Queen of Hawthorne Prep
Especially where I am concerned.
He drags the velvety softness of his tongue across my flesh and a thick shudder of ecstasy slides through me, pushing me to the edge of my sanity.
His head rises until our gazes can collide before he nips at the plump flesh. “I asked you a question.”
There’s no point in pretending. “You,” I admit. “I want you.” That, at the very least, is the truth. Under the cover of darkness, when my body is already splintering apart, our battle of wills no longer matters.
As if pleased by the response, his tongue skates over my throbbing clit. I groan and widen my legs, allowing him more access. Where he’s concerned, I’m weak and pathetic. A slave to my hormones. Those thoughts are so disturbing that I do the only thing I can and shove them from my head, wanting to focus on the here and now. On the pleasure unfurling in my body. There will be plenty of time tomorrow to berate myself.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes,” I whimper as his tongue continues to lap at me, carefully stoking the ecstasy until it’s a raging inferno that threatens to scorch me from the inside out.
“Admit that you like the way I touch you.”
“You know I do.” As the truth slides from my lips, an orgasm explodes, and I scream out my release.
Kingsley torments me until every drop of joy has been wrung from my body. Just as my muscles loosen, sinking into the mattress, he grabs my hips and flips me over before jerking me to my knees.
With one large palm splayed at the center of my back, he drives deep inside my heat. I whimper as his other hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back. His hips jerk against my backside. Every thrust of his cock sends my eyes rolling inside my head. Even though I came moments ago, pleasure sparks to life for a second time.
After the pain of the last week, this is the only thing that seems real. That makes me feel something other than grief, sorrow, frustration, and anger. When he’s filling me, forcing me to submit, I can forget about all of it and concentrate on the animalistic pleasure.
His grip tightens on the length of my hair, and even though my scalp stings from the pressure, it only heightens the arousal pumping through me. Another orgasm, this one stronger, builds inside as he continues to thrust rhythmically.
It doesn’t make sense for our bodies to be in such perfect synchronicity when we couldn’t be any further apart. When his muscles tighten, his movements becoming more frenzied, mine follow suit, matching every thrust with a parry. The long guttural groan that escapes from him forces me over the edge. My inner muscles clench around his thick cock, squeezing it as he slams into me before collapsing with a huff of breath that feathers against my back.
For just a sliver of a moment, everything feels right between us. Instead of being leagues apart, his harsh breathing fills my ears. And just like our fucking, it feels as if we are in perfect harmony. As if we are two pieces of the same whole, finally coming together.
With him buried inside me, his body covering mine, it feels as if we might find a middle ground and work through our issues.
Is that even a possibility?
Can he shelf his anger long enough to hear me out?
To put himself in my shoes?
It was never my intention to lie. I was put in an untenable position. One I couldn’t win. Either I betrayed Kingsley or my parents. Like everything regarding our relationship and family history, it’s complicated. When it comes down to it, Kingsley had a choice in the matter. He could have walked away from this arrangement. Instead, he chose to go through with it.
He chose me.
But I wasn’t given the same opportunity. It was—marry Kingsley or have the family company taken away and get buried alive under a mountain of debt.
How is that any kind of choice?
All I want is for him to see my side and cut me a little slack. He doesn’t need to forgive me or even agree, just understand.
I moisten my lips. “Kingsley—”
The sound of my voice shatters the fragile peace that had fallen over us. Silently he slides from my body, leaving me to feel empty and alone, before rolling from the bed. I bite my lip to keep from begging him to stay as he slips through the balcony door. Any hope filling me bursts like an over-inflated balloon, leaving nothing but despair and anguish in its place.
Whatever Kingsley and I once shared, if it was ever real, is gone. The only thing I can do is pray that Mom finds a way out of this mess.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I’m jolted out of a dead sleep by the incessant buzzing of my alarm. One hand snakes out from beneath the down comforter to swipe my phone from the nightstand. It takes effort to focus on the small screen.