Chapter 7 Kingsley
Kingsley
Islept like shit and I woke up jittery and pissed as hell and sick to my stomach.
God, Rosalie could be so stubborn sometimes.
My cock was painfully hard, leaking precum all over my shorts, and I had woken up with a splitting headache.
That was too many whiskey shots even for me.
I had to wait for my cock to go down to piss, and constantly thinking about Rosalie didn’t help.
Squinting against the bright morning light, I pulled up my bank app and transferred as much as the fucking app would let me do at one time into Rosalie’s account.
What should I put in the notes section?
Sorry, baby girl?
Let’s make up?
No, I had to be direct. Had to own my shit.
I’m really sorry
I miss you
The words felt cringey, strange, but they were true, and I couldn’t think of any better ones. Still, the whole thing was cringe as fuck.
It made me feel almost vulnerable, and that was not a comfortable feeling. Because what if she didn’t forgive me?
But she had to.
What if she didn’t?
I sent over the money, then ordered twelve dozen red roses. After I had done that, I wondered if they were the right type of apology flowers to send, so I panic-bought three dozen other assorted bouquets, then went eagerly out into the center lounge.
“Ready for an interview?” Eunice chirped eagerly, wetting her pencil in her mouth.
Damn, she was relentless.
I hadn’t eaten yet, but the last thing I was in the mood for was an interview about Dolly.
But there was my manager, and I guessed it was something to do while I waited for Rosalie to wake up.
“Hi, there!” Dolly squeaked, looking shyly at me.
I squinted blearily at her. Apparently she was the kind of person who was extremely chipper in the morning. I much preferred Rosalie silently holding up a mug while she glowered at me.
“Let’s see how well the two of you know each other!” Eunice caroled. “Kingsley, what is Dolly’s favorite food?”
Well, shit. This was going to be awkward.
“BBQ,” I said.
Eunice looked down at her notes. “And the answer is—salad!”
What the fuck kind of answer was salad?
“Have you seen Rosalie yet today?” I asked Cornelius, but he shook his head.
“Kingsley likes burgers,” Dolly said.
I did like burgers, especially with Rosalie beside me at the grill, adding onions and jalapenos and mushrooms.
What if she didn’t forgive me?
My stomach was cramping so badly with fear that I could barely focus on the questions.
As if groping for any topic, Eunice was like, “So, a platonic girl best friend? What do you think that says about you? Would you consider yourself something of a feminist king?”
Platonic? Was that how other people saw our relationship?
“I love Rosalie,” Dolly said in a breathless voice. “I could never be mad that she’s Kingsley’s best friend. I want to be her friend, too. She’s so brave and powerful!”
“She’s reckless,” I countered. “She should’ve let security handle Maeve.”
“But she didn’t want me to get hurt!” Dolly squeaked out, her cheeks looking pink.
“Or she could have let me handle it,” I almost snarled. “Instead of endangering herself.”
Silence.
Apparently the only thing we had in common was talking about Rosalie.
Great, that wasn’t weird at all.
“Where is she?” I asked again.
It was not like Rosalie to miss breakfast, usually she came out the second she smelled coffee.
I felt twitchy, irritable, like I couldn’t settle, and Dolly squeaking and fluttering around beside me was not helping matters.
I was just about to suggest knocking on her door, when it finally opened and Rosalie came out.
She was wearing a baggy old T-shirt and little boy shorts, running a hand through her long dark hair. It was that dark true-blue black, such a startling contrast against the slight sunburn on her cheeks.
It was classic Rosalie to look hotter than everyone else in just a ratty shirt.
She was looking down at her phone, stretching those elegant dancer’s legs and I shifted in annoyance in my chair as I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. My cock was twitching, banging against my thighs.
Just like this little brat to look as hot as shit.
Fuck, she needed to stop being pissed at me.
My hands tightened on my jeans as my eyes dragged down her body.
One finger absently touched her lips, always so pink and plump, and today they looked more swollen than ever.
I remembered how she looked on her knees in front of me, her mouth with those plush lips wrapped around my cock.
Wait
I knew that look . . .
My eyes rose higher, where her perfectly applied eyeliner was smoky, smeared around her gray eyes and making her look even hotter.
Wait—that’s how she looked like when--but that was impossible—
Then Matt came out of the door behind her, with a massive grin on his face, his big paws touching her shoulder gently, running down almost worshipfully to her waist.
The fuck?
And suddenly I was seeing red, bounding to my feet so fast I knocked over the table in front of me.
“Did you two fuck last night?”
I stalked over, rage filling me.
Oh, no, hell no, no the fuck they didn’t--
Rosalie grabbed a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, so what? Thought I’d give this cornfed Iowa boy a chance. And it was more than worth it.”
She stretched and yawned like a little cat as she looked over at me.
Like she couldn’t have cared less.
I felt sick to my stomach.
But Matt was beaming from ear to ear like he’d just won the Super Bowl. Like a fucking virgin who just tasted pussy for the first time.
He looked fucking pussy-whipped already.
Dickhead!
“What the fuck, man?” I growled, shoving him hard in the chest. “What happened to the bro code?”
He frowned at me. “What do you mean the bro code?”
“Rosalie is off limits! You should know that!”
“How should I know that? You never said that!”
“It should have been fucking obvious!”
I shoved him again, knocking over another table and I could hear Eunice and Dolly making distressed little squeaks.
“Ignore him,” Rosalie told Matt, stepping between us and jabbing a finger in my chest. “If you have a problem with me, Kingsley, say it to my face.”
“The hell I don’t have a problem with him! He should have known you were off-limits!”
“Why?”
“Well, we’ve been best friends since college,” I howled, my thoughts spiraling as I wondered,
Had I ever told Matt that Rosalie was mine?
“Pft,” she snorted.
“You don’t get it,” I said, attempting to move Rosalie aside so I could get at Matt again, but my hands slid down the curve of her hips as I attempted to grip her, and her skin was so silky-smooth and warm that I felt my cock twitch back and forth. “It’s the bro code.”
She flipped me off, then turned her back and I saw just the hint of a pink mark on her throat. Just the tiniest blush of color and the rage pulsed so hard behind my temples that I gritted my teeth in fury.
“There’s no rule against you fucking me,” she assured Matt, still holding up her middle finger to me. “He’s just a lunatic.”
“Kingsley,” Dolly whimpered, pulling on my sleeve. “It’s OK.”
But it wasn’t remotely OK.
Not when Rosalie was looking back at me like that, her eyes smoky, her lips swollen from another man’s—what.
His cock?
I could feel a fight spiraling between us and my heat was up, blood pumping to my dick. Whenever Rosalie got in my face like that, made it clear she didn’t give a fuck who I was, she didn’t give a fuck about my money or my name, it made me goddamn horny.
But I couldn’t do anything about it with the entire band in the room, all gaping in astonishment at me, as well as—shit--the official reporter. And my fake little girlfriend.
“Back off, asshole,” Rosalie ordered, giving me a little push, and I had to tighten my fists to keep myself from gripping a handful of her hair and flipping her onto her belly on the couch, pulling down those little shorts and driving my cock in her perfect sopping wet channel. . .
But she was glaring at me, and I knew if I couldn’t control myself right now I wasn’t going to be able to stop until I had Rosalie beneath me begging for my cock as she always had.
Reluctantly, I took one step back.
“You’re shit for that,” I spat at Matt.
“I’m not going to apologize,” Matt replied, a bright spot in his cheeks. “I couldn’t ever be sorry for that magical night we just had. But let’s not fight.”
He touched her waist again, making me grit my teeth in rage.
“Come on, let’s go get some brunch.”
“Yeah,” Rosalie said. “I need to eat. I’m starving, and I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.”
“Let’s keep it between us. Don’t distress the girls,” Matt told me in a low voice, which proved he didn’t know Rosalie at all, because there was absolutely zero distress in her face. Just a wicked light in her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he went on urgently. “I’ll treat her well, I promise. Always let a woman come first, that’s my motto.”
Rage flooded me, and I couldn’t control myself, pivoting and smashing my fist into Matt’s face.
I was a few inches taller, but he definitely outweighed me by at least 20 or 30 pounds and he grabbed me around the waist and rammed me into the side of the wall.
Dolly screamed shrilly, once again totally useless, like a mosquito.
I gripped Matt by the collar and aimed another blow at him, our wrestling bodies rolling over the back of the couch and crashing into the coffee table.
Then I was suddenly doused with about a gallon of water, and I felt long nails dig into my skin as a hand firmly twisted the neck of my T-shirt, dragging me off of Matt.
God, how many fights had Rosalie broken up over the years?
Dumbass bar fights just because some woman’s husband had gotten mad at me. Times I’d gotten too carried away with my anger at the paparazzi.
Ro always the only person who could ever get through to me.
“Stop it, idiot!” she snapped.
Stupid Dolly was still shrieking at the top of her lungs, only stopping when Matt and I broke apart.
“Wow, Rosalie!” she breathed. “That was amazing!”
Rosalie barely looked out of breath, still in her bare feet with those long, tanned legs temptingly right in front of me.
“Everyone out!” I snarled, hoping to grab my girl and fuck her into next Tuesday.
No fucking way Matt had fucked her properly.
I was the only one who knew how to take care of Rosalie.
But Rosalie had an arm around both Matt and Dolly and was sweeping them out the door with her.
“Leave him,” she advised, glaring at me. “He gets these little celebrity temper tantrums sometimes, and if we don’t give him any attention he’ll stop.”
“Rosalie, I want to talk to you,” I growled, but she ignored me completely.
Matt gave me a compassionate look just before Rosalie slammed the door in my face.
What the fuck was that look supposed to mean?
Why was he feeling sorry for me?
When this absolutely was not going to happen again. I was putting my foot down.
The hell was wrong with Rosalie? How could she be this mad at me? She had to know she was my main girl. My stomach was in knots as bile rose in my throat.
I vented my feelings by flinging the whiskey glasses into the fireplace, then felt like a jackass.
“Get out of here,” I growled at the rest of my bandmates. “Everyone out.”
Grabbing my phone, I texted Rosalie as anger and panic pounded through my veins.
Get back here
This isn’t over
No response.
You can’t leave it that like
To add insult to injury, apparently since she had turned on Read Receipts, I knew exactly when she saw my text message.
And she did not bother to respond.
I know you saw that!
Still no response.
I couldn’t get how she looked out of my head.
Those smoky post-sex expressions were supposed to be for me. Her little yawns and sleepy eyes after I made her come three times in a row were for me. Her stretches and soreness from my cock.
Precum was leaking down my pants and soaking my legs as I strode into my bathroom, violently yanking open the shower door.
Having to stroke my own dick? Well, that fucking sucked.