King (Endgame Book 1)

by Riley Ashby

  His apology meant nothing to me. I jerked out of his grasp and slid away again, but he pulled me against him.

  “No getting away from me now,” he muttered, stroking my cheek—even though I refused to look at him. I was shaking as he shrugged off his jacket and put it over my shoulders. “You wanted me to keep you, remember?”

  I shrugged, refusing to speak. He didn’t deserve my words.

  “I'm sorry,” he said again, uncharacteristically tender. “I sent you through emotional turmoil you had no business experiencing. I should have known better. I should have been better. “

  “It's fine,” I said, sitting up and wiping my face free of the unexpected moisture there. I wasn't comfortable with this version of him. It was unpredictable. I much preferred the man who treated me like a doll and yelled at me like a child. I had plenty of experience with demeaning father figures. “I want to go to bed.”

  He nodded and let me move away.

  I kept the ice pack on my face for most of the drive, and by the time I stepped out of the car, my eyes were stiff from the cold. I started to walk inside, but Ellery picked me up again, carrying me not to my room but what I assumed must have been his. The color of the room assaulted my eyes after being accustomed to the stark white of my own. I didn’t get much time to examine my new surroundings. An older man met us in the hallway as Ellery finally placed me back on firm ground then pushed me down onto his bed.

  “Thank you for coming, Doctor Halloway.”

  “No problem at all,” he said cheerily, but I peeked at the clock. It was after two o’clock in the morning. “Let's take a look at you.” He smiled at me reassuringly and pulled a few instruments from his bag. He looked up my nose, into my ears and eyes, prodded around in my mouth a bit, and examined my ribs. In the end, he determined I didn't have any broken bones or detached retinas, but my ribs were deeply bruised and would need healing. “You were lucky he didn’t hit your nose,” he said as he placed a butterfly bandage on the cut left on my cheek from Chase’s ring.

  I didn’t feel lucky at all.

  He gave me some painkillers and spoke with Ellery in the hallway while Karen, who had appeared the moment I sat on the bed, flitted about me like a nervous hummingbird. She helped me out of the tight dress and into a long nightshirt she brought from my room. I sat back down on the bed as Ellery walked back in.

  “Thank you, Karen. You can go back to bed now.”

  She looked about to argue with him, but he silenced her with one look. She smiled at me over her shoulder as she closed the door. The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  The air seemed to grow heavy as he approached me. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  I shrugged. “I want to sleep.” I’m wondering why I’m here. “I can find my way back to my room.” I tried to rise from the bed, but his hand on my shoulder held me down.

  He was frowning. “You’re allowed to be upset, you know. “

  I shrugged again, trying to express disinterest and get him away from me.

  It didn’t work.

  He picked up my wrist, looking at the red skin. I expected an interrogation, but he lowered his mouth to the new marks and gently kissed me. “We’ll talk about that later,” he murmured, glancing up, before his demeanor changed completely.

  In one instant, he went from caring and concerned to authoritative commander.

  “Let me see your side.” He gestured for me to stand. I nearly did then caught myself. I wasn’t going to jump at the snap of his fingers any longer. I sat more firmly on the bed.

  “You saw it earlier.”

  He glowered, crowding me closer. “Let me see again.”

  “I want to sleep.”

  “I don't care.”

  He pulled me to my feet and rolled up my gown, holding it against my chest while he traced his fingers over the bruise, which was already deep purple. There was a darker patch where a ring had cut into my skin. I sucked in a breath when he pushed gently, and his fingers jerked back. The hand holding my gown touched the bottom of my breast.

  I didn’t move.

  I was afraid if I did, the heat gathering between my thighs would combust.

  He tried to sell you. He tried to give you away.

  It was no use. My heart was racing, and I had goose bumps again, but all I wanted was to feel more, more of this infuriating man’s hands all over me and in places he hadn’t yet touched. I wanted them everywhere. I wanted everything.

  His hand was shaking, but I didn’t think he was angry. His eyes traveled my body, not looking for injuries but lingering on the swell of my breasts and the curve of my hips. Looking down, I blushed as I saw my hard nipples were visible even through the shirt. As he moved closer, I felt his cock, hard and long against my stomach. I sucked in a breath.

  He leaned down and kissed my jawline. I jerked back, surprised that it hurt. Had he bruised me there too?

  “Do you think you'll be able to sleep?” He ran his fingers up my body. His touch was light, but I felt it everywhere. I suppressed a gasp as my nipples turned to granite under his fingertips.

  “I'll be fine. I told you. Leave me alone.” But my voice was breathy, even in my own ears. It was all I could hear.

  He leaned forward more and nuzzled the side of my face. Despite myself, I relaxed into him. I should be mad at him, but I had gotten what I wanted. He kept me. And despite myself, I felt bonded to him.

  “You were so brave,” he murmured, trailing his lips across my cheek. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He planted a soft kiss on my bruised cheek, and I heard myself sigh. One hand remained on my side, a comforting pressure against my ribs. The other slipped beneath my underwear, cupping my ass. “I am so proud of you.” He nudged my nose with his, turning my face toward him, and he kissed me. My ears were met with a soft whimper, and I realized it was coming from me.

  As his tongue gained entry to my mouth, his hand on my ass moved to my front, and I gasped sharply when he pushed against my clit. The sensation awakened me, and I jerked away. The hand on my side moved instantly to my neck, holding me in place.

  “Hold still.” His forehead nearly touched mine, and he stared into my eyes. The forest green pinned me in place. “I can help you sleep.” He kissed my neck. “I can relax you.”

  For a moment I let myself fall against him. I missed the feel of his hand on my side, the feel of his fingers on my arm. I wanted him to kiss me there and then clutch me so hard he left new marks on my hips from his fingertips.

  But I couldn’t do that. I didn’t know anything about this man, except that he apparently liked to see me hurt. And what did it matter that I liked to be hurt, that I liked the feel of his hands pushing on my bruised muscles while he plunged his tongue into my mouth? What did it matter if he made me feel frightened and treasured and turned on all at once? Because there was no telling what would happen tomorrow, if he would change his mind and ship me off anyway or send me back to my sad life at home.

  I tried to move, but there was nowhere to go; whether his hands held me or not, I couldn’t pull away from his eyes. His intention was clear. My heart rate galloped.

  “Why are you thinking of that at a time like this?” He couldn’t have missed the tremor in my voice.

  He let go of my nape and put his hand around the front of my throat, squeezing gently like he had my first night. “Because I saw what happened when I did this.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and let my head fall back, and then he was pushing me onto the bed. His hands moved to my waist and my hips bucked as his fingers slid underneath the elastic of my underwear, tugging them down my legs. I panted as those fingers then stroked the lips of my pussy, already wet from his earlier touches. He smoothed my arousal across my skin, along the inside of my thighs.

  “You like being bossed around,” he muttered, moving his lips to my side again. It ached from the stress of my breathing. “I saw it earlier, when I told you to stop biting your thumb.”

  “Stop it,” I
said. I slapped him away, but he grabbed my wrist.

  “And I like it when you struggle.” He hovered over me, one hand still between my legs. “But you'd better not right now. You'll hurt yourself.” He sat, pulling his tie over his head and then using it to fasten my hands to the bedpost. I groaned as I spread my legs underneath him and arched my hips up. He smiled as he moved his hands over my breasts. My nipples were hard, nearly tearing through my shirt, and he stroked them beneath the silky fabric. The cotton was soft but against my sensitive skin it could have been sandpaper.

  His mouth would feel nice.

  “That’s a good girl. I know you want me. And you’re mine now, for real. No one’s taking you away.”

  His voice was chocolate velvet. It was so maddening. I wanted him to shut up and at the same time I never wanted him to stop.

  “You don’t have to beg me tonight. Tonight, I’ll make you feel good. But I promise,” he said as he kissed across my neck and down my chest, “you will beg me.”

  I wanted him to let me go, leave me alone so I could harden my shell overnight and be ready for tomorrow. Yet here I was, opening underneath him.

  “Sophie, listen to me. This is important.”

  I moaned. “You called me Sophie.”

  He leaned over and kissed my side. My skin was hot where the blood was pooling beneath the surface; his touch was a salve. He rubbed my clit gently, then faster, sending lightning through my veins. I could feel my arousal coating my thighs, his fingers slick as he stroked me. The painful fire that had been consuming me changed, mingling with the pleasure he stoked between my legs.

  “You call me Ellery if you want me to stop, okay? That’s the only time I want you to use my name. But if you want me to keep going, you call me Master.”

  His hands were pure magic, one of them kneading my breasts while the other worked between my legs. I wailed, feeling the orgasm build inside me. He moaned in response, his lips on my neck.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, barely able to gasp out the word.

  “Yes, what?”

  I could say it. I could call him by his name, and he would stop. He’d untie me and take me back to my room. Or maybe he’d let me sleep here, undisturbed.

  I could say it, and he would let me go.

  “Yes, Master.”

  His hand pinched my nipple, and I cried out. It unleashed him. His voice changed, dropping lower than I had ever heard it.

  “I just fucked over the biggest deal of my life, but hearing you yell like that is worth it.” He moved lower, taking his hand away from my pussy and leaving me barren. But not for long. His mouth closed over me a moment later. I cried out and arched my back, the range of movement cut short by the restraints.

  “Shh,” he murmured. “Don't hurt yourself.” He paused to suckle the inside of my thigh. “Let me do the work.” Then his tongue was on my clit. I gasped in surprise. He clamped his hands around my hips and held me in place with his forearms. He flicked his tongue expertly, stoking a fire in my core I had no desire to put out.

  “You can't move, Sophie, and I'm not letting you get away. Let me do this for you.”

  He removed one hand from my hips and slipped a finger inside my pussy. I moaned and felt him laugh rather than hearing him. He was right; I couldn't get away from him, even if I wanted to. I was too tired to fight. I relaxed my hips. The fingers holding me down softened as well, no longer holding but massaging my skin.

  “There you are.” He alternated sucking and licking my clit while his finger wiggled inside me, thrusting in and out rapidly. “Just let go.” I tried to hold still but was panting in exertion, the pleasure from his mouth overriding the pain of my bruised ribs. His touch made me feel golden, like the presence of his lips on my body was healing me. Would I heal faster if he kissed my eyes or licked my side? The prospect of his tongue on other places on my body drove me mad. If I hadn't been injured, I would have ripped my hands free and dragged him inside me.

  “I'm sorry for tonight, Sophie. I’m sorry I almost gave you up.” He raked his teeth across my clit, and I rolled my hips, overwhelmed by the sensation. Every twitch of his fingers was a lightning strike. “Forgive me?”

  I shook my head, wanting to punish him but unable to speak. He laughed. “I think you do.”

  This pleasure, this sensation was pure magic. I had touched myself before, teased myself with half-assed fantasies I was too afraid to let myself explore too deeply. I had always lived in fear of being discovered by the men that came and went to see my father, checking the locks to my room multiple times each night, afraid to even make a noise lest they realize I was there and break down the door. But as Ellery’s tongue danced across my tender flesh, I let that fear melt away.

  The only man I had to be afraid of here was currently eating my pussy, and I didn’t want him to stop.

  “You’re such a good girl, Sophie, even if you don’t always listen to me.” I moaned at his voice. I wanted to hear him talk endlessly, but every time he spoke it meant he stopped licking me. “I’m so glad I can give you this.”

  He inserted another finger and sucked my clit with a force I'd never felt before. I cried out, my legs going rigid beneath him. My hips pulled away from him, unable to withstand the pleasure, but he held me in place and changed to flicking my clit with his tongue. Tears fell from my eyes as I gasped for air, and warmth flowed between my legs as Ellery receded.

  My eyes remained closed as he kissed his way up my stomach, my chest, my neck. I sighed in relief. Now I could sleep, now that he had touched me. Now that he had kissed me. Now that he had cared for me. He was keeping me safe.

  He tugged down my shirt and freed my hands from the tie then pulled a blanket over me and turned out the light. The bed shifted as he slid in alongside me, rolling me to lie on my uninjured side and throwing his arm around my waist. The last thing I remembered before going to sleep was his whisper in my ear.

  “Sleep long and deep, my pet. You earned it.”

  I woke up alone the next morning, stiff as a board. My ribs ached with the exertion of last night, from being pummeled and … and coming on Ellery's tongue with my hands tied above my head. The memory evoked a throb between my legs.

  Why did he touch me like that?

  Looking around, I discovered I had never made it back to my white room. The decorations in here were rich navy and dark mahogany, though still punctuated with gold. The dress I had worn the night before hung on the door to the closet.

  Everything flooded back to my mind: the glorious pleasure, the wondrous feel of his hands on my skin. I was pressing my legs together beneath the blanket as echoes of the orgasm thrummed through me, turning me on again with the memories.

  I had to get out of here. I had to regain control.

  Moving to get out of Ellery's bed, I stopped to catch my breath once my feet touched the ground. Wincing, I clapped a hand against my side to brace myself. Upon seeing painkillers on the side table, I swallowed three with the small glass of water sitting next to them. The water was cold, ice still floating on the top. Someone had placed it here recently. I drained the glass as a door swung open.

  “No. Back in bed.” Ellery snapped his fingers at me, pointing to the mattress. He was only half dressed; I had never seen him less than fully clothed. I didn’t even remember him undressing the night before. Behind him, I glimpsed a bathroom larger than the closet in the white room.

  I stood up, intending to be defiant, but fell back down as pain radiated from my core.

  “You need to lose this rebellious streak,” he grumbled, grabbing my ankles and swinging my legs so I was on my back again. And he didn’t leave me alone or speak to me from where he stood because that would be too pedestrian for Ellery King; he climbed on top of me, pinning me against the bed with his body but holding himself up just enough so he wouldn’t place more than just the slightest amount of pressure on me.

  I could feel my pulse in the capillaries just underneath
my skin.

  “Should I teach you another lesson about listening to me?” His silken voice poured from his mouth and consumed me. I saw those lips and remembered how they felt between my thighs only hours ago. “Should I make you as wet as you were last night when you came on my tongue?”

  He was barely covered, wearing only boxers and a pair of slacks open at the waist. Tilting forward, he pressed his length against me.

  My body responded without my consent, my back arching despite my mind’s protests. One of my ankles hooked around his leg. A lazy smile grew across his face, and one of his hands dropped between us.

  My panties were still missing, his fingertips flush against my skin. But he didn’t touch that most vulnerable part of me; he traced along my inner thighs as the hair on my arms rose.

  I shouldn’t want to be doing this, but I couldn’t muster the energy to protest. I reminded myself that he had let me down the night before, contributed to my physical injuries as much as the man whose hands had held me; he was the one who dragged me along in the first place. He had tried to give me away to a man who had openly proclaimed his desire to abuse me, regardless of my feelings on the subject, all to further his own interests.

  I also remembered how he looked at me afterward, poring over every bruise and trying to stitch them together with his eyes. The way he held me against his chest, trying not to jostle me as he hurried us home. The way he was so gentle with me as he removed my clothes.

  He hurt me and had still managed to protect me at the same time.

  “Did I tell you how good you taste?”

  I wanted to look away, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks, but I was locked onto him and he knew it. His hand finally dared to cup my pussy, not probing but applying pressure that vaguely relieved the desire building there. He smiled as I whimpered. One of my hands traveled up his arm, wrapping tenderly around his bicep.

  “I have to leave,” he whispered, and the spell was broken. His hands and his body were gone, awkwardly tucking away his erection as he struggled to close his fly, his head down to keep his eyes from ravaging my body while he finished dressing.