King Series Firsts Box Set: King, Lawless & Preppy Part One

by T. M. Frazier

  I can draw.

  Not only could I draw, but I could draw well. It came as naturally as breathing.

  The second thing connecting me to her.

  When I put the book down, I looked up, and King’s client was gone. King sat on his stool alone, watching me. “You were in the zone,” he said. “You looked so fucking cute sitting there concentrating.”

  I swallowed hard, “I…uuuhhh…got caught up.”

  His words took me by surprise. I visualized stalking over to him and climbing onto his lap. His big strong hands coming around my back and resting underneath my shirt on my bare skin. I thought about what it would be like to let him do more than what he’d done before.

  What would it be like if he used more than his fingers?

  I shuddered.

  “Bring it here,” King said, holding out his hand, snapping me out of my own imagination where I was naked and writhing underneath him.

  “No, you don’t want to see it. I was just messing around. I’ll just put it back in the drawer and clean up now.” I walked over to the sink with the book under my arm. King reached out and snatched it away from me, flipping the pages in search of my sketch.

  “Holy Go-go-Gadget arms,” I quipped. I’d clearly underestimated King’s reach.

  “How do you know that?” He asked.

  “What do you mean? How do I know what?” I asked.

  “The ‘Go-go gadget’ thing. That’s a reference to a cartoon. Have you ever even seen it?”

  “Um…I think so. It’s this guy who wears a trench coat and has a billion little gadgets all over the place that usually don’t work the way he wants them to.”

  “I know who it is. What I want to know is have you watched it since you lost your memory?”

  “No, I haven’t watched any TV until earlier tonight when Preppy put on something called American Ninja Warrior.” I stepped back and leaned against the counter. “What are you trying to get at? I thought you believed me.”

  “That’s not it. I’m just trying to figure it out. Help me understand.” King leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “If you haven’t watched it, then it’s something that carries over from before. How exactly does that work?”

  “I’m not really sure. When I was living in the group home, I saw a psychologist or a psychiatrist or one of those. He told me that memory loss works differently for everyone. For me, it wiped out all personal information. Names, faces, memories. But I can still walk and talk, so I retained all my functions. I also know facts. Like, I know who the president is, and I can sing to you the jingle for Harry’s House of Falafel’s commercial. I just don’t know HOW I know those things.”

  King nodded. I bit my lip.

  “You know, you’re the only person besides the psychologist guy who’s even asked me about it,” I added.

  King turned a page in the book and found my sketch. He studied it for several minutes. Time seemed to tick by slower and slower. I grew restless wondering what he thought of it. He was probably trying to figure out how to tell me it was complete crap. But then again I didn’t take him for someone who would go out of his way in order to avoid offending anyone.

  So, what the hell was he staring at for so long?

  And why the hell did I need his approval so badly?

  “Are you done for the night?” I asked, trying to draw his attention away from the sketch. If he hated it, I’d rather just not talk about it at all. He lifted his eyes from my sketch just long enough to give my body a slow once over, like he was looking at me for the very first time. His gaze ignited my skin as if he’d actually touched me.

  “Am I done?” he repeated my question. King ran the underside of his tongue across his bottom lip, leaving a sheen where he’d made it wet. “I’m not sure. I’m thinking I could just be getting started.”

  Holy Shit.

  The familiar redness burned its way up my neck and my ears grew hot.

  The clock read 4:45am, and although I should have been tired due to the time, I was more alert than ever. The caffeine and sugar from the four Red Bulls I’d drunk felt like it could keep me awake for days, but I needed to get away from King because I felt myself starting to forget all the reasons why letting him strip me down and have his way with me would be a bad idea.

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means that I’m done with clients. But it also means that I’m not done with you.” King grabbed my wrist and dragged me onto his lap, the very place I’d just fantasized about being.

  I gasped.

  The hard muscles of his thighs rippled under mine. His smell—a light mixture of soap and sweat—was intoxicating. He fisted a handful of my hair and yanked my head sideways, exposing my neck to him. He breathed me in, running his nose along my neck, followed by a long leisurely lick from my collarbone to the sensitive spot on the back of my ear. I moaned, and he chuckled. I could feel it vibrate through his body and into mine. “Oh, pup. How much fun this is going to be.”

  Just like that, he released my hair and pushed me off his lap. My shaky knees almost gave way, and I had to hold onto the counter to avoid falling forward onto the floor.

  “We’ve got one more,” King said.

  “I thought you just said no more clients tonight,” I said, breathlessly.

  King proceeded to set up three small containers of black ink. “Here.” He handed me a thin-tipped black marker.

  “What do you want me to do with this?” I asked.

  “I want you to draw your sketch again. The same one. Hold it up for reference.”

  “Draw it on what?”

  “On the back of my hand, it’s a much smaller canvas than your sketch so you’ll have to downsize a bit, but it’s one of the few spaces of blank canvas I have left.

  “Why?”

  “Why do you always ask so many fucking questions?”

  “Don’t you have a machine that does this? You can copy this picture and just stick it on there if that’s what you really want.”

  King sighed with frustration. “Yes, I do. But it’s not the point. I want you to draw it on me. I want you to put that pen to my skin and recreate your sketch. I don’t care if it’s crooked. I don’t care if it’s not perfect, just fucking draw it!” he shouted, standing up. He took a few steps toward me until I was backed up against the counter, clutching the sketch book to my chest. “Please?”

  A ‘please’ from the man who didn’t say ‘please’.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “But why?”

  “Because I looked over at you while you were drawing this, and you looked all cute, biting your lip, your face flushed, the back of the pencil pressed against those pink lips. Then, when you showed me what you drew, I saw it right away.”

  “Saw what?”

  “Me. The bird. You drew me.” I opened my mouth to argue that it was just a bird, but I couldn’t. He was right.

  Dark and dangerous.

  Hard but beautiful, taking what he wanted from the world.

  It was him.

  King propped the sketchbook on the table so I could reference my drawing. I did the best I could to create a smaller version of it onto the back of his hand. I worked even harder trying to ignore the electricity humming between us. King never took his eyes off of me.

  It took me twice as long to complete than the sketch, but when I was finally done, I put the marker down and sat back.

  “Okay?” I asked.

  King held his hand up and examined my work. “It will work,” he confirmed. “Now, go get me a coffee.”

  “No Red Bull?” I asked, standing up from the table.

  “It’s after 5am. After 5am calls for coffee.”

  “Okay, coffee then,” I said, making my way down to the kitchen. By the time I figured out the single cup coffee machine thing they had—the only modern appliance in the kitchen—and got back to the studio, King was hunched over his hand with his tattoo gun buzzing.

  “What the hell are you doing?”
r />   Silence.

  “So what? You’re ignoring me now?”

  He lifted the gun from his skin. “Yes, because if I talk to you, I’ll be giving this bird a dick in his mouth instead of a snake,” King said.

  “I will get back to the fact that you sort of made a joke later, something which I didn’t think you were capable of doing, but right now, the only thing I can concentrate on is that you are tattooing my sketch onto your hand!” I shouted.

  “What did you think I was going to do with it?” King dipped his gun into the ink.

  “I don’t know, but not that!”

  “Pup?” King asked softly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Enough with the questions. You’re distracting me. Go the fuck to bed.”

  “But—” I started to argue.

  “Pup?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Bed. Now. Or you can choose to stay, but I’m warning you, if that’s the decision you make and you are still here when I’m done, I’m bending you over that couch and fucking you into next week.”

  Shit.

  I scurried out of the room as fast as I could, not stopping to catch my breath, I could still hear him laughing as I closed the door and sank to the floor.

  I was totally and utterly, for lack of a better word, FUCKED.

  Fifteen

  King

  You looked so fucking cute, sitting there concentrating. Where the fuck did that come from? I hadn’t even realized I’d said it out loud until I saw the redness rise in her cheeks. On the other hand, flirting with her and making her uncomfortable was by far becoming my newest and most favorite source of entertainment.

  Since she started eating Preppy’s cooking, it only took a couple of days for Pup to pack on some weight. The additional few pounds had done amazing things for her figure. Her sunken cheeks were a little fuller and somehow made her appear even more innocent and cherub-like. Her tits and ass were rounder and begging to be touched even more so than before. She had the body of a woman and the face of an angel and I was constantly walking around like a thirteen year old who had to keep adjusting himself to hide his raging hard-on.

  The truth was I didn’t bother her while she was sketching because I didn’t want her to move, and I was perfectly content to just sit and stare at her all night. But then, she would cross and uncross her legs while biting her lip, and all I could think about was how I wanted to be the one to bite that lip. How wet I could make her between those legs.

  I didn’t get up from my stool after Neil left because I was afraid she’d look up from her sketch and see my cock standing at attention through my jeans. If she were any other chick, I would draw her attention to it, but I didn’t want to send her running into the other room. I already felt her fighting off whatever attraction she had for me. The horrible truth of the matter is that I didn’t want to scare her away.

  Because I actually liked having her around.

  Somewhere, somehow, my anger towards her had turned to some sort of fucked-up affection.

  Which I had to put a stop to right a fucking away, because any sort of feelings for her other than contention and lust would only get in the way of the plans I had for her.

  She was afraid of me. That much was obvious, but there was a fire there, too, and the more she fought it, the more it turned me on.

  The way her body reacted to me told me that there was only so long she could resist the inevitable. The inevitable being me fucking her until she couldn’t remember her own name.

  It’s not like she knew it anyway.

  But I did.

  An unfamiliar nagging feeling tugged at my gut.

  Guilt maybe?

  I brushed it off. There wasn’t time to entertain any feelings of guilt. A better opportunity to get Max back was not going to just fall into my lap like this again. And in the meantime, I was going to spend my time with her as I pleased. In her case, that meant doing everything I had to make her warm, wet, and willing.

  “Boss-man!” Preppy shouted, bounding into my studio with his pupils dilated, forgetting to blink like he’d just snorted blow by the fucking truck full.

  “What’s up, Prep?” I asked, putting the finishing touches on the tattoo Pup had sketched for me. After I saw it, I needed it on my skin, immediately and permanently and for the life of me I didn’t know why. But after it was done, I felt like a weight was lifted.

  “What the fuck is that?” Preppy asked, pointing to the back of my hand. I wiped off the excess ink and blood and held it up so he could see.

  “It’s a tattoo, dumb-ass. Or did you forget what it is I do in this room?”

  “I know it’s a tattoo, fucker. I just wanted to know why you were tattooing yourself right now.”

  “You’ve seen me do it a hundred times so what’s the fucking big deal?” I barked, not liking Preppy’s third degree.

  “What exactly is it?” he asked, leaning over my shoulder as I put a layer of plastic wrap over the top.

  “It’s nothing. Pup drew it. What exactly is it you wanted?” I hated being short with him, but I wasn’t about to answer questions I myself didn’t exactly know the answers to.

  “I came to tell you two things actually. One is that Bear called, and he overheard his dad talking. Isaac’s coming to town. He’s not sure when, just knows he’s coming. Got eyes on him though. He hasn’t left Dallas yet.” The MC had a long-standing relationship with our former primary source of weed.

  “And?”

  “AND I’m pretty sure he’s probably a little pissed the fuck off that we cut him out as our supplier.”

  “I was locked up, and he didn’t want to deal with anyone but me. If he expected us to just do nothing until I got out, that was his mistake. We saw opportunity. We seized it. End of story.”

  “Yeah man, that’s the way you and I see it. But Bear overheard his dad saying that Issac sees it more like a kick to his balls that he wants to pay back to us a thousand times over.”

  “I’m not hiding from Isaac, or anyone else. If he wants to talk to me, he knows where the fuck I live. Now, what’s the other thing you wanted to tell me?” I snapped.

  “Dude, you’re so fucking moody since you got out. You’re like a bitch on the rag twenty-four hours a day. The second thing I wanted to tell you is that I’m going to take Doe out on a date Saturday night.”

  “You’re going to fucking WHAT?” I suddenly wished my tattoo gun was a real one because with that one sentence, Preppy was walking into dangerous fucking territory.

  “She’s cool as shit, so I’m going to take her out. Maybe, a movie or something. The drive-in is playing some scary paranormal thing, and chicks fucking love that shit. Makes ’em all cuddly,” Preppy said, hugging himself with his arms.

  “Like fuck you are.” Not only was he not taking her out, I got the impression that scary wasn’t exactly Doe’s favorite genre. The girl’s been scared enough in real life.

  “Dude, I’m not going to fuck her. Unless that’s cool with you. In which case, I will most definitely fuck her.”

  I stood from my stool. It rolled back and crashed against the wall. “Not. A Fucking. Chance.” The thought of his hands on her made my stomach twist.

  “You don’t even like her,” he barked. “Besides, you don’t know anything about her. And that’s your fault because she may not know a lot about herself, but the little she does know you haven’t even bothered to ask her about.”

  He had a point, but Preppy didn’t know that there was a reason for that, and I planned to keep that reason to myself for the time being.

  “What exactly would you like for me to talk to her about? Because the where do you come from, what’s your name, thing doesn’t exactly apply in her case.”

  Preppy huffed and linked his fingers together behind his neck. “I don’t know. You could ask her something simple, like maybe, how she likes her sandwiches or something.”

  “Sandwiches. You want me to ask her about sandwiches?”

  “Why t
he fuck not? Everyone likes a delicious sandwich, and talking about them is better than talking about the heavy shit you seem to be carrying around these days.”

  This is why Preppy was my best friend. He saw right through me.

  “I know Max is important. I know we need to get her back, but until then, you still have a life to live, man. And talking to the girl, who for all intents and purposes is living in our house, isn’t going to get in the way of that.”

  That’s what you think.

  “Have you even fucked her yet? I mean, the chick sleeps in your bed and shit. What the fuck is that all about?”

  “That’s none of your fucking business,” I warned. He was crossing a line.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that as a no. Maybe, that’s why you’ve been so fucking grumpy since you got out. Maybe you just need to get some ass. Get laid. Get all up in there before your dick shrivels up and falls the fuck off.”

  “I’ve gotten laid since I’ve gotten out, so shut the fuck up about it. This isn’t about liking her or about fucking her. This is about me saying NO and you listening to me for once!”

  “King, you’ve been my best friend since the dinosaurs roamed the earth, so listen to me when I tell you that you look at her like you want to fuck her brains out, but you treat her like she’s garbage under your shoe. It’s not cool, man. You’re the one who decided to keep her here, which wasn’t the brightest idea to begin with, so let me have a little fun with her for fuck’s sake.”

  “This is about a debt that needs to be paid,” I said, unconvincingly.

  “Oh come on! We both know she didn’t take anything. And since when is it up to you to dole out life lessons on who needs to pay for what? You some kind of life coach now? Besides, she’s not your property. She’s a person, not a fucking car.”