Black Knight (Royal Elite Book 4)

by Rina Kent

  It’s like that in my subconscious. My erotic, porn-fest subconscious.

  My dreams should level up to this state from now on. Soft hands wrap around the bulge in my jeans and I grunt out a moan.

  When my eyes open, there she is. The dream is still there, right in front of me.

  She’s fully naked, too, her tits begging for my mouth on those perky nipples. Kimberly kneels between my legs like a good little girl, her face flushed, her green hair dishevelled.

  Still, she looks like a sex goddess.

  The best to ever exist.

  She fumbles with my belt, pushing my jeans and boxer briefs down. Her touch is unsure, innocent even.

  Just as I would’ve imagined my Green.

  My dick jumps to life at her inexperienced ministrations. It’s been hard and painful ever since I ate her pussy, demanding to be buried inside her and get his own turn.

  But I can only do so much damage, even in dreams.

  You’re already there. Cole’s devil voice says in my head. Might as well go all the way.

  Shut up, demon.

  “What are you doing, Green?” My voice is hoarse with arousal.

  Her teeth nibble on her bottom lip, that full lip I want a taste of. When her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with a rare sparkle, the one she had when we used to go to new places, take risks, and then laugh out loud when we reached such place.

  It’s her curious nature shining, her true, non-fake one.

  “I want to make you feel good, too.” Her breathy voice is like a fucking aphrodisiac to my starved dick.

  “Make me feel good how?” I’m still lying back, but my attention doesn’t drift from her. I want to engrave her in my mind so when I wake up, these memories won’t go away.

  Maybe when I wake up, her taste will remain on my lips, too, and I’ll recall how she writhed against my mouth and came all over my tongue.

  It was different than porn. They make shallow, fake noises there. My dream’s small whimpers and gasps were torture to my dick.

  “I don’t know.” She wraps her hands around the base of my dick, and I groan deep in my throat.

  “You never did it before?”

  She shakes her head once.

  I smirk, knowing my dream would say what I want to hear the most.

  “Why not?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Promise you won’t find me weird.”

  “You’re not weird; you’re a bit quirky.”

  “Promise,” she insists.

  “Fine. Promise.”

  She bites down on the corner of her lip. “I thought it would be icky.”

  “How about now?”

  “It’s different.” Her cheeks redden. “I want it.”

  “Because it’s me?”

  She nods once, running her fingers up and down my length.

  The growl that leaves my throat is that of an animal. I’m not supposed to enjoy this, but it’s the most I’ve been turned on my entire fucking life. “Say it out loud, Green.”

  “Because it’s you, Xan.”

  Her eyes remain on me as she lowers her head and takes me inside her hot, little mouth.

  She’s soft, way too soft, as she laps her tiny tongue around me in small strokes.

  I’m tempted to let her go at that pace forever, just to see her head bob up and down, to have her this way until the end of time.

  My dick has other ideas, though. It’s been tortured enough.

  I lean over and dig my fingers into her green strands. She moans like the best erotic fantasy.

  “You’re killing me, Green.”

  Her answer is to go faster, but it’s not fast enough or hard enough.

  “Look at me,” I tell her.

  She does, her eyes so huge, I can almost see my reflection in them.

  “I’ll take control and it might hurt.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this, but even if she’s a dream, she’s still my Green, and I always tell my Green everything.

  She nods slowly, but her lips tremble around my dick.

  Fixing her head with both hands, I ignore the pain in my bandaged palm and thrust my hips so I’m deep into the back of her throat like I’ve always fantasised about. Like I’ve always wanted to and never got the chance to.

  Kimberly never takes her eyes off me, even when my pace turns wild and brutal. She opens her mouth wide and takes me in as much as she can. If anything, that curious gleam in her eyes lights up the harder I pound into her.

  The more I fuck her mouth, the more her arousal coats the air, her nipples hardening to pebbles.

  She’s turned on.

  Well, well. Cole was right. The seemingly innocent ones are the wildest.

  “Do you like it when I fuck your mouth, Green?” I grunt.

  She nods frantically, her hands gripping my thighs, nails digging into my skin as if she’s holding in something.

  “Don’t let anyone else fuck your mouth,” I say like a pitiful arsehole, forgetting the part that it doesn’t matter.

  “Don’t let them touch you or kiss you or see you naked.”

  Her brow furrows.

  “If you were mine, no fucking one would get within two metres radius from you.”

  Maybe it’s my words or that lustful, curious look in her eyes, but I come so hard, even I am surprised by the power of my release.

  My back and balls tighten as I empty down her throat with a groan. Cum drips from the side of her mouth to her chin.

  I pull from her. “Don’t swallow.”

  She stares up at me with confusion in her eyes, but she complies. I reach over and clutch her chin, opening her mouth, and stare at my seed all over her lips and tongue.

  Marked and claimed.

  If only for this moment, I want to believe she’s mine.

  I close her mouth. “Swallow every last drop.”

  She does, her throat working with the motion. Then she does something that surprises the shit out of me.

  Kimberly winds her arms around my neck and attacks me with a ferocious kiss, causing me to lose my balance and fall on the mattress.

  I’m on my back and she’s splayed all over me, kissing me sloppily, as if she’s been waiting to do it for a long time.

  My hand wraps around her and I return her kiss. Tasting myself on her tongue is the most arousing thing I’ve done in recent memories.

  This is officially the best dream ever.

  We kiss for what seems like forever, making out like hungry animals, like the world will end the moment I wake up.

  And that’s probably what will happen, isn’t it?

  The moment I open my eyes, I won’t see the green of hers, I won’t taste her on my tongue or inhale her deep inside me.

  I cover her eyes with my hand, slowly erasing her from memory, making her disappear.

  She doesn’t resist, even as her body shivers over mine. Instead, she whispers against my lips, “What happened to us, Xan?”

  “Don’t talk. Don’t ruin it.” I flip us over so she’s beneath me, small and beautiful and ready for the taking. “Fuck it. I’m going all the way.”

  “A-all the way?”

  “Yes, Green. I’m going to fuck you hard and fast and dirty. I’ll hate myself for it and wish I could take a rope to my neck when I wake up, but you know what?” I lean over to nibble on her lobe before murmuring, “It’ll be worth it.”

  “Wait.” She places her slender hands on my shoulder. “Wake up?”

  “I don’t want to wake up.”

  “You already did.” Her eyes widen. “This isn’t a dream, Xan.”

  “That’s what dreams say.”

  “No, this isn’t. We’re –”

  The door barges open, cutting her off.

  “Xan! Ahmed says I can have brownies and –” Kirian’s blubbering cuts off mid-sentence and his eyes double in size as he stares at us, then grins. “Hey, Kimmy. You didn’t say you’d do a sleepover at Xan’s.”

  “Oh, shit,” she mutters, hiding undern
eath me and pulling the covers over us.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Uh…wrestling. This is like special wrestling.” She struggles with the words.

  “Can I join?” Kir’s grin is enormous as he trots to our side.

  “No, Monkey.” She smiles awkwardly. “We’ll be right out, okay?”

  “I want to join. Why are you wrestling without me?”

  He grabs my forearm, his tiny hands tightening on my muscle that’s still taut from how I’m holding my body over hers.

  No.

  Fuck no.

  I reach out and pinch her cheek and…she doesn’t disappear.

  Why the fuck isn’t she disappearing?

  Because she’s real, dickhead. So very real.

  I’m not drunk and sleeping while Cole and Aiden sit there as guardian demons.

  Kimberly winces before whispering, “What was that for?”

  Proof that I fucked up.

  18

  Kimberly

  “Where are my brownies?”

  My baby brother’s voice startles me from my thoughts. I’ve been too focused on Xander to pay him attention.

  He stands behind the counter, cutting the brownies into tiny pieces over and freaking out again.

  Since Kirian interrupted us this morning, Xander pushed off me as if I have a contagious disease and hasn't once looked me in the eyes.

  He grabbed his clothes and washed in another room, taking Kirian with him for his morning freshening up.

  I don’t even recall how I took a shower. All I remember is the foreboding when I got dressed and felt his every touch like it was engraved in my skin.

  His tongue, his hands. Hell, my mouth is still sore from the way he fucked it and took complete control of me.

  Then he pushed me off.

  Then the dream, as he called it, ended.

  I try to remain calm, to not have some sort of a breakdown, but the longer he avoids me, the more I touch my wrist, the stronger the itch becomes, and I don’t want that itch to come to the surface. Not now, not ever.

  Xander hasn’t spoken to me for thirty minutes and whenever he makes eye contact by accident, he freezes for a second before shaking his head and looking away.

  At Kirian’s words, he smiles and places the plate in front of us. I reach over and throw a piece in my mouth, letting the rich chocolate taste occupy my thoughts. Kirian grins, nomming on the brownies with renewed energy.

  I don’t realise I’ve been eating with him until my mouth turns all too sweet.

  Damn. Those are at least five hundred calories first thing in the morning.

  Still, I don’t feel as bad about them as I normally would. Probably because Mum’s voice isn’t at the back of my head right now. I’m not hearing her scolds or seeing the weight numbers.

  The only thing that’s occupying my thoughts is the person standing behind the counter, watching Kirian eat and erasing me completely, as if I don’t exist.

  I never thought there would be a day where I would be jealous of Kirian, but here it is.

  “Xander,” I murmur his name as if I’m not supposed to say it. Like before.

  For years, he snapped at me for saying his name, but not last night. Last night, he loved the sound of his name on my lips. Last night, he looked at me differently when I called him what I’ve always loved calling him – Xan.

  His jaw tightens. He’s pissed off because he was erasing me and I alerted him that I exist right here in front of his eyes.

  He says nothing.

  I lean over to speak closer to his face. He smells fresh with that hint of mint and bottomless ocean. “I’m talking to you.”

  “And I’m not,” he says ever so casually.

  I’m about to say something else when Lewis Knight comes down the stairs. I wince, realising Xander and I might have been loud while his father is here.

  Then I recall how Kir walked in on us – which was way worse. Wrestling? Really? Surely I could’ve thought of something better. I hope we didn’t scar my baby brother for life and he believes the wrestling story.

  Lewis is about to head straight to the door but stops when he notices us. A rare smile lifts his face as he approaches us.

  “Hey, young man.” He snatches a tissue and wipes the chocolate on Kirian’s cheek.

  “That’s right, Uncle.” Kir grins, showing his growing teeth. “I’m a man. Tell everyone else.”

  Both Lewis and I smile.

  Xander doesn’t. He gives us his back as he fusses with the coffee machine. His rigid, stiff back that seems about ready to burst out of his T-shirt.

  “How are you, Kim?” Lewis asks me with a warm expression, another thing that’s so atypical of him to show.

  He’s known as a powerful politician with strict decisions. That’s why he gets along so well with Silver’s dad.

  Despite his average appearance, he has an eloquent tongue and a charisma that makes up tenfold for the looks. Xan only took after him in the shape of the eyes, perhaps. Which is also similar to Kirian’s.

  I always joked to Xander when we were kids that Kirian looks like him, not me.

  Wait.

  No. I shake my head. That’s absolutely not possible.

  Go away, stupid thoughts.

  I fake a smile. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “How are Calvin and Jeanine?”

  Why the hell are you asking about them? I know why. Because they were always some kind of friends, especially Dad and Lewis; they sort of grew up together, went to the same school – RES – the same university, and the same damn world.

  However, my mind is spiralling to a completely wrong direction right now.

  “T-they’re good.”

  Xander glances back at me as soon as I stammer, his brows drawn together, then reverts his attention to Kirian, who’s completely oblivious to the tension brewing in the air.

  Lewis wipes Kirian’s cheek again. I try to unsee the scene in front of me, of Lewis’s doting gesture or his smile that’s as extinct as a passing unicorn, but I can’t. It’s impossible.

  It’s all that’s brewing in my mind right now.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Lewis tells me.

  “What do you mean?” I try not to sound spooked or on the verge of blurting these thoughts I don’t completely understand myself.

  His expression returns to normal as if realising how many times he slipped, smiled, appeared damn doting. “With Kirian or anything.”

  “Okay.” No way.

  He throws a disapproving glance at Xander, then his bandaged hand. It’s uncanny how much he can communicate with only his eyes. He was welcoming with Kirian and me, but he’s obviously pissed off with his son.

  And it’s understandable, considering the shit Xan has been getting himself into. Alcohol, fighting, and now, hurting his hand.

  I swallow at that.

  He cut his hand, and there was blood. Like me.

  Only, is he? I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose. Doesn’t mean the wound isn’t hurting him, though.

  Xander smiles at his father and even though his dimples make an appearance, it’s a forced one that’s hiding what seems like bitterness behind it. “Good morning to you, too, Dad.”

  “We’ll talk later.” And with that, Lewis is out the door.

  I stare at the place he stood in, beside Kirian, my mind filled with all sorts of messed up theories.

  No, nope. I’m not going to think about that.

  Xander smiles down at Kir. “I’ll go get ready for school. Okay, Superman?”

  Kirian gives him a fist without lifting his head and then they make a blowing sound.

  I would’ve been touched by the scene if my insides weren’t melting down.

  Xander leaves from the other side – Kirian’s side. If he thinks he can run away from me, from this, he has another thing coming.

  He doesn’t get to kiss me, to murmur those words to me, and to light my body on fire just to walk away as if
it never happened.

  He called me Green. His Green.

  After a whole seven years, he finally called me Green again, and I’m not going to pretend that it’s a play of my imagination or some sort of dream.

  I’m done being pushed around by him and letting him be the decision-maker in all this tale.

  We always did things together and that shouldn’t change.

  I storm on his heels and plant myself in front of him, disallowing him access to the stairs. “You don’t get to run away.”

  “Run away?” He laughs and the cruelty in it crushes me slowly. “Who are you so I’d run away from you?”

  “But –”

  “You’re nothing, Berly.”

  “Fuck you,” I wanted to say it with spite, but it comes out weak and with so much pain, it’s pathetic.

  “No, thanks.”

  “But you did. You can’t pretend it never happened.”

  The malice in his eyes is nothing like I’ve ever seen before. This time, it’s tangible and with the clear intention to break. “Watch me.”

  “I won’t stay still this time.” I fight the brittleness in my voice. “I’m not the girl who waited on your approval like a lost puppy. That girl is gone. If you erase me, I’ll erase you harder.”

  “By all means,” he snarls in my face. “Do. It.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you keep doing this, Xan?”

  “Stop saying my fucking name.” His eyes rage until they darken into a frightening blue. “Stop talking to me. Stop being in my damn vicinity. Disappear from my fucking life.”

  Then he turns and takes the stairs, leaving me there, bleeding metaphorically.

  I reel from the effect of his words. Each one of them is like a stab to the throat.

  I was wondering what price I’d have to pay this time, and here’s my answer.

  It’s worse than being called disgusting. This is like breaking me from the inside out with no chance of healing.

  He was once my knight, my anchor, my warm shoulder. Now, he’s the villain coming after my life.

  Now, he’s the master of that suffocating fog that’s slowly wrapping its tentacles around my throat and cutting off my air supply.

  His back is all I see as he ascends the stairs.

  And I know, I just know that he’s saying goodbye for the very last time.