Chapter 6 - Luna
"I'm trying to be better," King says, his voice dropping to something raw and honest. "But it's not easy when violence is everywhere around you. When it's the first solution that comes to mind because it's the one that's always worked."
I have no idea what to say to that. What do you tell a man who's spent his life solving problems with his fists when he admits he wants to be different? What comfort can I offer someone whose entire world is built on strength and dominance and never showing weakness?
My eyes drift to the wound above his eye, and I notice it looks angrier than it did before. Red around the edges, slightly swollen. Without thinking, I step closer, my nurse's instincts kicking in.
"Your cut is looking worse," I murmur, leaning in to examine it. "Mind if I check?"
King doesn't move, doesn't flinch, just watches me with those intense blue eyes as I reach up to gently probe the area around the stitches. He's radiating heat like a furnace, and this close I can smell the leather in his clothes.
"How does it feel?" I ask, trying to focus on being professional despite the way my heart has started racing.
"I've felt worse," he says, his voice a low rumble that I feel as much as hear.
Of course. Men always have to act tough, even when they're clearly in pain.
"I should clean it again," I tell him, reaching for the first aid kit I left on his desk. "Make sure it doesn't get infected."
I've been moving on autopilot for so long that I'm only now noticing how close we are, how intimate this position feels. My body between his spread knees as he sits in the chair, my hands on his face, his breath warm against my wrist.
And God, he's fucking handsome. Not in the polished, manufactured way of the men I dated in Seattle.
There's nothing soft about King. Everything about him is hard edges and brutal honesty.
The lines carved beside his mouth, the silver threading through his dark hair, the coldness in his eyes that somehow softens when he looks at me.
He gives no shits about anything or anyone, takes what he wants, answers to no one. I envy that freedom, that certainty.
"You okay?" King asks, and I realize I've been standing with my hand on his wound, staring at him like an idiot.
"Sorry," I mutter, stepping back. "I just—"
Before I can retreat, his hand is on my hip, warm and heavy, keeping me in place. My breath catches in my throat, and I swallow dryly as my heart thunders against my ribs. Between my legs, I feel a clench of desire so sudden and intense it makes me grip the edge of his desk with my free hand.
Oh fuck. My panties are already dampening as heat floods my pussy. I need to cool down, to think clearly. This is too much, too fast, too overwhelming. What if someone walks in? What will they think?
But King doesn't seem concerned about any of that as he tugs me closer, his grip on my hip firm but not painful. Even sitting, he's nearly at eye level with me, his broad shoulders blocking out everything else in my field of vision.
"I shouldn't be doing this," he says, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Touching you. Thinking the things I'm thinking."
I have a pretty good idea what he's thinking. The same filthy thoughts currently racing through my own mind, but I need to hear him say it.
Gathering every ounce of courage I possess, I meet his gaze squarely. "Tell me what you're thinking."
King rises from the chair, towering over me, "If I put those thoughts into words," he says, each syllable weighted, "I'm not sure I'll be able to stop myself from acting on them."
Fuck. He's so hot, so dominant, his presence filling the room until I can barely breathe.
I didn't come to Blackwater Falls for this.
I didn't uproot my life to act like some horny teenager with a crush on the town bad boy.
But King isn't a bad boy; he's a fucking force of nature.
A man who could easily lift me despite the extra curves I carry, who could break someone with his bare hands but touches me with unexpected gentleness.
I glance nervously toward the door, suddenly aware of how exposed we are. Anyone could walk in, could see whatever is about to happen between us.
King follows my gaze and seems to understand my concern. He reaches under his desk and presses something, and I hear the subtle click of a lock engaging. The frosted glass of the office door darkens, becoming completely opaque.
"No one can see or hear what happens in this room now," he says, his voice low and dangerous.
I should be intimidated. Should be worried about being alone in a soundproof, locked room with a man who radiates danger from every pore. Instead, I find myself wanting to push him, to test the limits of his control.
"Are we about to do something that no one should see or hear?" I challenge, my voice steadier than I feel.
His smirk is pure sin—a devilish quirk of lips that sends heat spiraling through my body.
I'm completely smitten, already knowing I'll obey whatever commands he gives, follow wherever he leads.
I'm soaked, and he hasn't even really touched me yet.
Sweat trickles between my breasts, and I resist the urge to grab them, to squeeze them in front of him like an offering.
King steps even closer, his beard grazing my cheek as he leans to whisper in my ear.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. "I want you on your knees."
I drop immediately, not even thinking about it, my body responding to the command before my brain can process it. Looking up at him from this position, I feel a rush of submission that's both terrifying and exhilarating.
"What do you want now?" I ask, my voice breathy with anticipation.
This is what I've always craved—a man who isn't afraid to be dominant, who knows exactly what he wants and isn't ashamed to ask for it.
In my past relationships, I've always been the one in charge, the one making decisions, taking care of everything.
But with King, I can finally surrender that control.
"Take off my belt," he orders. "Then my jeans."
I comply eagerly, my fingers working the heavy leather belt, then the button of his jeans. I slide them down his powerful thighs, leaving him in black briefs that do nothing to hide his impressive erection. His cock strains against the fabric, thick and hard, and my mouth waters at the sight.
"Kiss it," King commands. "Through the briefs. I want to see how badly you want it."
I glance up at him, eyes wide. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want it, Luna."
I don't waste a second. I press my face against his bulge, inhaling his musky scent as I kiss along the impressive length. I can feel it throbbing, growing even harder under my attention until the briefs seem ready to burst at the seams.
"Fuck," King groans above me, his hand finding my hair. "You're too good. I can't—"
He tugs his briefs down himself, impatient now, and his cock springs free right in front of my face. It's magnificent. Thick and long, the head already glistening. My pussy clenches at the sight, imagining how it will feel stretching me open.
"Can I touch it?" I ask, not wanting to move without permission.
"It's all yours," he growls.
I wrap my lips around the head, moaning at the taste of him—salt and musk and pure male. I try to take him deep immediately, eager to please, but he's too big. I need to work up to it, to get him slick with my saliva first.
I stroke the base of his cock with one hand while I focus on the head, swirling my tongue around it while maintaining eye contact. King tilts his head back, a deep groan escaping him as I bob up and down, taking a little more with each movement.
"Spit on it," he commands, his voice strained.
I pull back and do as he says, letting saliva drip onto his cock, then use my hand to spread it along his length. Without breaking rhythm, I lick the sensitive underside, tracing the prominent vein from base to tip before enveloping him with my mouth again.
This time I manage to take almost all of him, gagging slightly as his cock hits the back of my throat.
But I love it. I love the feeling of being pushed to my limits, of having no control.
For once, I don't have to be in charge. I don't have to make decisions or help others.
I'm simply following King's lead, a willing vessel for his pleasure, and it's fucking liberating.
I appreciate that he's not grabbing my hair and forcing me down, that he's letting me set my own pace despite the dominant role he's taken. It's a consideration I wouldn't have expected from someone like him.
"I never thought you'd be this good," King says, his voice tight with restraint. "But it makes sense."
I pull back, keeping my hand moving on his cock as I look up at him. "Why's that?"
"You seem like the type who wants to excel at everything she does," he says, a hint of that sinful smirk returning.
I can't help but laugh softly. "I am," I admit. "But I think the same about you."
His smirk deepens, curling the edges of his mouth in a way that makes my heart race. "I am," he confirms. "I always need to be in control. And it's time I show you what that means."
My pussy throbs at his words, a flood of wetness soaking my already damp panties.
King grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet like I weigh nothing, then spins me around so I'm facing his desk.
Before I can catch my breath, he's tugging my jeans down, his wet cock sliding between my ass cheeks as he presses against me from behind.
He's so close, his chest a wall of heat against my back, his breath hot on my ear. "I'm going to fuck you mercilessly," he promises, his voice a dark growl that sends shivers down my spine.
I tilt my head back, offering my neck to him without thinking. "Please," I whisper. "Make me forget everything that happened in the last 24 hours."
He kisses my left cheek. "We'll forget it together."
I brace myself for the immediate invasion of his cock, but instead feel his fingers stroking through my folds, making sure I'm ready for him. I moan and push back against him, beyond words now, trying to convey with my body what I need.
King understands. He slaps my ass once, hard enough to sting, and I gasp at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. Then his cockhead is pressing against my entrance, stretching me open as he pushes inside with agonizing slowness.
"Fuck," I gasp as he fills me completely, his thickness making me feel utterly claimed.
It's incredible to be so thoroughly filled by him, to be chosen by a man who could have anyone he wanted. I can feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein as he begins to move, setting a pace that's just this side of too much.