Standing by the fire, I watch him walk up toward the flames, my eyes following his every move over the rim of my cup. The man is intimidating. Brutal. Dark.
Kingston “King” Toretto is larger-than-life, but at the same time, so shrouded in shadows and secrets, it’s hard to believe he’s real. Always around, but never actually here, he’s someone I’ve heard stories about, yet have never met. He’s a mystery. A ghost.
Through the flames, I watch the way he moves. His muscles are so tight, they’re ready to snap. His eyes take in everyone around him. His tattoo covered arms are crossed over his chest and his legs are wide, like he’s ready for a fight.
Broad and muscular, covered in tattoos and scars from head to toe, he’s as brutal looking as he is beautiful. His presence commands respect.
For years, I’ve had a sick fascination with him, even though I hardly know him. There’s something wrong with me because there’s something wrong with him.
“He’s trouble,” Lilly whispers, leaning into my side.
Pulling my gaze from King, I shoot her a quick look. “Says who?” I know she’s right. King’s the worst kind of man.
“Tiny told me shit about him. Bad shit.” Tiny says all sorts of shit, most of it bullshit. But even if he’s right, I don’t care, I want the man. I’ve always wanted King.
“There’s just something about him,” I counter. I want to take a walk on the wild side, and King is that wild side. He represents freedom, excitement, life, in a way I can’t describe.
Lil laughs. It’s tight, and a little concerned. “Yeah, his tattoos and muscles, those are somethin’.”
There’s something more. Something so real and raw, powerful and dangerous. “I’m gonna go say ‘hi’,” I tell her, finishing off my cup. I’m feeling brave today. It’s taken me years to become this brave, and today I’m cashing in. I don’t know what I’m thinking and it’s probably a good thing I don’t. I’ve spent my life around dangerous men, but none quite like King.
“Sam, that’s probably not a good idea,” Lil tells me, grabbing for my arm when I turn to go. “I know we like trouble, but he’s trouble trouble.”
“Good.”
“Good? You’re fuckin’ nuts and you’re drunk.”
I don’t care how bad of an idea this is, how bad it’ll hurt, or how stupid this makes me. I want King.
Making my way through the crowd of family and friends, I walk up next to him, swallowing roughly, my hands shaking. “I’m—” I start to say before he cuts me off.
“The princess.” His voice is rough, like sandpaper. He’s taller up close, at least a half a foot over my five-seven frame. He’s wider and bigger, and scarier. Meaner. Ruder. Nastier.
I laugh, my voice breathy, because the nickname is childish and not me. “I’m not.” It’s something my dad has always called me, something I loathe as much as I like. It’s become a label, like a warning.
He doesn’t look at me, and he doesn’t argue when he asks, “What do you want?”
Being raised in a family full of the most rude and crude humans alive, his shortness does nothing to detour me. I’ve made up my mind.
“I, uh…” I stumble over my words. There’s a moment, a brief flash of uncertainty, but I shove it down. “You,” I tell him, my voice shaky, betraying me.
He chuckles humorlessly. “I know.”
He knows? My pulse races and my stomach knots. “You know?” I practically choke on the words, embarrassment clogging my throat.
“Been eye fuckin’ me since I walked over here,” he deadpans, and I almost die.
Feeling lame, my cheeks turn a bright red, I’m sure.
“Oh.”
“All you gotta say is ‘oh’?” he sneers, eyes narrowed on me, expecting more. “Did the princess lose her liquid courage?” he goads me.
“No,” I huff, squaring up my shoulders and holding my head high. I’m determined. “I still want you.”
King finally looks at me—his eyes traveling slowly up the length of my body, landing on my lips. “You sure? Once you say yes, there’s no goin’ back, baby.”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Through the crowd, past familiar and unfamiliar faces, he takes me toward room six, my hand in his.
His rough hands are on my body, fingers digging into my hips, holding me down. On my back, my legs wrapped around his head, King runs the tip of his tongue between my pussy lips, stopping to tease my clit.
I’ve never felt anything like it.
I try not to squirm, but the way he devours me makes my body shake with need.
“Fuck, you taste as good as you look,” he breathes against my pussy, his tongue teasing. My virgin brain twists and turns with every growled compliment as he eats me alive. King’s got game. “Can’t wait to get my cock inside this tight cunt.” He shoves two thick fingers deep inside of me and curls them, hitting something that makes me come off the bed.
“Shit!” I cry out, shaking.
He chuckles. “Just the King, baby.”
I feel like I’m high, floating and spiraling out of control.
King sucks on me until I’m so overcome, my back bows and my thighs clench as I’m hit with an orgasm I’ve never experienced. My world explodes, my body tightening and tingling. “That’s right, baby, ride it out,” he growls against my wet flesh as I ride his face. Any embarrassment I had is all but gone.
Biting at the inside of my thigh, he stands up as I come down from my high, wiping his mouth with his hand. Between my thighs, my pussy on full display, he looks down at me and stares. There’s something warm in his cold brown eyes, a touch of heat in their depths. I feel special, even if I know I shouldn’t. I tell myself not to be that girl, but it’s not easy. He won’t remember my name in an hour and my face will be forgotten in a day or two, but in this moment, I feel like I’m somebody to King.
Tugging on his jeans, he pops the button and jerks them down enough to free himself. I watch in utter fascination as he palms his dick. It’s big and thick. I want it in my mouth, but I want it inside of me even more.
“King,” I whisper, desperate. Desperate for what, I don’t know.
The corner of his mouth tips up. “Princess,” he growls. “Keep lookin’ at me like that and it might go to my fuckin’ head.” His free hand runs up my leg from my ankle to my thigh, pushing them farther apart.
He doesn’t ask for permission—he takes what he wants.
Swallowing roughly, I ask, “How am I lookin’ at you?”
“Like you want me and only me inside you, forever.” He gives me a cocky grin. His shoulder length hair is messy, his whiskey colored eyes are dangerous and his body rough, yet he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
A single word slips from my lips, the one word holding so much weight. “King.”
One hand on the inside of my thigh, he pushes my legs farther apart and steps in even closer to my body. Running the tip of his massive cock through my wetness, I shiver. He chuckles darkly as I scoot closer to the edge of the bed, needing him inside of me. It’s almost an instinct, my body looking for his—seeking him.
“Your pussy’s greedy, baby,” he hisses, pushing inside of me slowly, savoring it. “And fuckin’ tight.” His eyes are pinched shut and his full bottom lip is between his teeth. “Jesus, Christ.”
It’s hurts, but in the best way possible.
“King,” I whisper, locking my ankles and pulling him into me. I want him to move, to go harder, deeper. To do something.
“I got you, baby,” he tells me, pulling out of me slowly. “I’ll give you what you want.”
“Harder,” I pant, urging him on.
And just like that, slow and soft is gone. The King is unleashed.
Slamming back into me, King grinds down, hitting my clit just right and tearing through my virginity. The hand on my hip squeezes while the other jerks my shirt up, exposing my boobs. He stops, deep inside of me, and looks me over. “You’re fucking beautiful, Princess,” he says breathlessly, and I believe him. His soulless eyes betray him. He doesn’t want to care, but he does, just the tiniest bit, and it’s the scariest and most heady moment in my life.
He cares while he’s fucking me, taking the virginity I so easily and willingly offered up to him. He cares until he doesn’t anymore. He cares until he’s pulling out of me and zipping up his jeans. He only cares until he’s done helping me fix my jean shorts and righting my tank. He only cares until he’s done with me, walking away without a single word.
That’s how I lost my virginity and my sanity.
And it wouldn’t be the first or last time. King would walk in and out my life over the years, fucking me in more ways than one and walk out. And every time, I promised myself it would be the last.