Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  My shoulders slouch, my hand running over my belly.

  “So anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?” she asks. “Before I leave?”

  I think about how I can possibly give her a proposition of me having my own show—with a twist of something else to offer this strange crew—when she just told me that they have a group of good-looking people who give the crowd live freaking devil-angel porn. I just said “freaking” again.

  I think I need water.

  “I’ll talk about it with you tomorrow.”

  She throws down her smoke and shrugs. “Or maybe I’ll be too busy. Goodnight, Little Bird. Don’t hurt yourself tonight.” She walks away, carrying the echo of her cackles behind her tight ass.

  King’s fingers dig into my hips before I can so much as think of anything else, and he turns me, so I’m straddling his lap. He looks up at me, his eyes searching mine. “Like what you see?”

  “Somewhat.” I’m meaning him, but I don’t think he’s meaning him, and again, I could really do with a glass or ten of water.

  His eyes narrow, and I instantly know that I’ve done something wrong.

  He stands off the chair and is flipping me upside down over his shoulder. My hand flies to my mouth to stop a scream from escaping. Now I’m staring right at the destroyed Dolce & Gabbana jeans that are strapped nicely around his tight ass. The little solar lights that lead the way are slowly disappearing with every step he takes.

  “Really not necessary, King. I could have walked.”

  He stops outside our RV and opens the door, carrying me inside and upstairs to his room. I don’t get a second to admire the kingdom because he’s tossing me onto his bed. My hair is everywhere, and I’m almost certain that the makeup I put on earlier is smudged all over my face, but thanks to liquid courage, I think I look like a ten. Okay, a six at best. Water.

  “What are we doing, King?” He loosens his belt buckle and undoes his button. His hair is a mess all over his head, and his tanned cheeks are slightly flushed. Probably from carrying me. But then when I look over his muscles, I know that can’t be it. He obviously trains as a side hustle. I reach forward before I can stop myself, and my fingertip is connecting with the roses over his hip.

  His hand instantly flies out and stops me as his other comes under my chin, tilting my face up to his. “Don’t.”

  “Well, what are we doing?” I ask again, licking my lips.

  His eyes drop to my mouth, and he turns around, tugging on his hair. He turns back to face me, his eyes wild. “Fuck if I know, Dove. I don’t know anymore. You—you’re.”

  The red streaks around his wrist catch my eye, and I shoot up off the bed, catching his wrist before he can move it. “Blood.”

  He yanks it out of my hand, and before I can say anything, his mouth is on me, and he’s pushing me back onto the bed, his body falling on top of mine. I no longer care what we are doing because whatever this is feels right. At least it does right now.

  My legs widen and he sinks into me further, his head moving to the side to gain more access on my mouth. He’s heavy, and his breath is brushing over my collarbone. All of these factors contribute to the flight of butterflies that are roaring in my belly. I think of that Halsey song, where she’s saying that sometimes the warning signs feel like butterflies, but those thoughts evaporate when he grinds against me. I’m sticky from the Texas heat and from running through the forest, but on top of that, we have the alcohol and the sexual tension that has been about to snap for far too long.

  My hips raise up to meet his, rubbing against his swollen crotch.

  He groans, and the deep sound vibrates over my mouth, sending shockwaves all the way down to my core. Reaching for the band of his jeans, I yank them down until I can run my nails over his ass cheeks. He bites down on my lip, so hard that I can taste the familiar tang of blood taint my mouth. “You wanna do this?” he asks, though his hands are gripping for my tank. “Speak now or forever hold your fucking peace, Little Bird.”

  I do what any girl would do with Kingston Axton half naked on top of them, wanting to eat you alive.

  I hold my fucking peace.

  He tears off my tank top with his bare hands and cups one of my breasts in his hand. His mouth lowers, and he sucks my nipple into his mouth. Warmth satiates throughout my body, tingles snarling all over my flesh.

  I moan, pushing my chest into him, wanting more. Needing more. Something more. I reach down and unbutton my shorts, yanking them off and kicking them off the bed.

  King stops, his breathing heavy, and his chest heaving. He slowly crawls off the bed, his eyes never moving from my body until he’s standing back where he started.

  He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth as his hand dips beneath his jeans. Now the bulge that was there has doubled as he slowly moves up and down.

  “Touch yourself.”

  “What?” I whisper out, not wanting to touch myself. “Why, when you could do it?”

  His jaw clenches. “Because I can’t have you, so I want to watch you have you.” He pulls his jeans down, and his cock springs free. My mouth waters at the sight. Tight skin around a thick shaft. There’s a piercing on the tip of his crown that goes from the top to the bottom. How did I miss that before?

  “God.” My back arches off the bed like a hungry fucking lunatic.

  “Touch yourself, Dovey. Show me what you do when you’re all alone.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, and my eyes widen as I watch him slowly pump himself. The sight is traumatic. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted, but being told you can’t have it.

  Instead of doing what I usually do, ask too many questions, I go with it. I slide my palm over my nipples before slowly dragging them down my tight stomach. Everything is slick from both of our bodily fluids, so my hands slip and slide all over the place. When I find a spot below my belly button that’s a little more wet than others, I lean up on one elbow and see the smudge of blood.

  His eyes turn to fire as they catch mine, and he watches with aching pain as I swipe my thumb through it and bring it to my mouth, sucking the blood off my thumb and making an extra effort to roll my lips over with the movement. It isn’t exactly hard, since my lips are one of the larger assets on my body.

  He turns feral, and a deep growl vibrates through him. The atmosphere thickens around us, and I know I’ve hit something dark within him. Something untamed and violent. I don’t care. I want it. I want all of him. I run my hand back down my body until I’m cupping myself. I slowly sink my index finger inside of me, turning slightly, so he has the best view. Using my thumb, I rub my clit in circles and watch as he squeezes the tip of his dick.

  “King,” I whisper, wanting him inside me. “I need you.”

  “Fuck.” He exhales, stopping his movements. He leans forward and grabs my hand, bringing my fingers to his mouth.

  He sucks me off my fingers. “Finish yourself off.” Then he pulls up his jeans and leaves me lying there, on his damn bed, unsatisfied and frustrated. He stops by his door, turning over his shoulder. “Stay the fuck there tonight.” The door slams in his retreat, and I take this time to examine his room. I’m irritated, so my eyes flash around the room quickly, taking everything in. Obscure walls, one large window, a King-sized bed, a couple dressers, and a large TV.

  That’s it. The décor is simple but masculine. His heady scent of leather, spice, and honey resonates through his black cotton sheets.

  I stroll to the other side of the room, snatching up the first shirt I see on the ground and pulling it over my head. I’m wondering whether I should stay here or go back to my room. Squeezing the doorframe, my frustration gets the better of me, and I back up, hitting his light switch off and sneaking back down to my little area. I notice that no one is in the RV, but I don’t care to think more of it. Right now, I just want to sleep. I can smell King all around me as I drop face-first onto my bed, and before I can register that I’m about to sleep in his shirt, my eyes are drifting closed, slippin
g into a deep sleep.

  Dove

  The next morning, I wake feeling a lot better than I deserve. Yawning, I spread my arms wide, my agitation only growing between my legs. I remember everything from last night, which doesn’t help. I’d rather I not remember him turning me down mid—whatever that was—with me spread eagle on his bed, playing with myself.

  I fumble into the kitchen, finding Killian already sipping coffee with his hair ragged everywhere.

  “Have a good night?” I tease, scrubbing my eyes.

  “Not as good as yours apparently.” He grins from behind his mug, a smug smile on his face.

  “Could have ended better,” I mumble, pouring the black java into my coffee mug, before sliding into one of the kitchen chairs. I blow into the hot liquid, enjoying the warmth that the steam provides, falling on the tip of my nose.

  “You ready for tonight?” Keaton comes down next, falling beside me.

  “Yes and no,” I answer honestly, taking my first sip and instantly feeling my muscles relax.

  “You’ll be fine,” Keaton assures me warmly, squeezing my shoulder blades before disappearing out the front door.

  “It’s so fucked up to see him be an actual human to someone who is not himself or us.”

  “What do you mean?” I spin around to face Killian.

  “I mean, he’s…Keaton.” Killian’s eyes then drop to my shirt, and his eyes shoot up in surprise before being replaced by his menacing smirk. “You two are fucking weird.”

  I look down at my shirt to see I’m wearing King’s from last night. It has a few tears in random places, but the material feels quality. It’s obvious that it has been destroyed for vanity and from age.

  I groan, standing from my chair and emptying my mug into the sink. “Don’t get me started, please.”

  Killian’s smug smirk falls when his eyes go over my shoulder. His jaw sets and his grip tightens around his mug. I start to turn around to see what warranted his change of mood, but his hand comes out to stop me. I shove him away, continuing to turn, when my eyes connect with Val’s smug face walking down the stairs.

  “Really.” I shake my head, fighting the urge to fly across the room and tear her eyeballs out of their sockets.

  She shrugs. “I did try to warn you, Little Bird. You’re a seat warmer, and I’m the trophy.” She continues out the door, slamming it in her retreat.

  “I hate her,” I answer out loud.

  Killian’s arm wraps around my torso, pulling me into his warm chest. His lips caress the back of my earlobe as my eyes remain upstairs. The very same fucking bed I was just in. Where he turned me down and simply replaced me with Val within the same fucking night. “Don’t take it to heart, Little Bird. Sex is a weapon in this world, and we have no problem loading it up to utilize it.”

  I crane my neck to give him more access. I feel reckless and hurt. “He left me.”

  “Mmmm,” Killian murmurs against the soft spot between my shoulder and my neck.

  “Naked.”

  He freezes.

  “With my finger inside myself.”

  Killian’s fingers spread out over my belly and slowly lower. My eyes close as I inhale the possibility of doing this. I’m worked up and under fucked thanks to Kingston. But apparently, Val was good enough for his royal penis.

  Killian’s hand slips lower, pressing against my pelvic bone. “Wanna show me what you were doing? I promise I will fuck you as hard as he hates you.”

  A door slams from upstairs, and I jump out of Killian’s grip. Then I’m annoyed that I jumped out of his grasp. My cheeks flush in embarrassment, and I quickly dash back into my room to change. I need to exert this energy somehow, and if I can’t fuck it out of my system, I’ll have to dance it out.

  I change into some appropriate clothes—yoga pants and a sports bra—and make my way to the tent, swearing under my breath.

  I need sex. I’ve never needed sex so bad in my life, although, getting it before was never hard. I had my regular guys. By guys I mean two—one was Richard (yes, the very same) and the other was Ollie. Ollie was complicated and always wanted more than I could emotionally give, so he wasn’t my preference. Richard was. Somehow, we managed to keep our lives balanced and not let our sexual activities interfere with our work or home life. Maybe that was because he and I were rubbing on each other since before he took ownership, but after he and his wife were divorced, or maybe it’s because Rich and I were just compatible in bed. By compatible I mean boring, but enough to scratch the itch. It’s like scratching your itch while wearing acrylic nails. It grazes it, but nothing gives you the full pleasure like using your bare, raw nails.

  “Morning, Little Bird. How was your night?” Delila asks, falling into step beside me as we make our way through the entrance of the tent.

  I ignore her and ask a question I’ve always wanted to know. “Why don’t you guys offer, like, carnival rides?”

  Delila answers quickly. “Quite simple, really. What do carnival rides attract?”

  Realization crashes into me, and for a second, I feel miniscule.

  Idiot.

  “Right.”

  I take a seat on the center stage and begin warming up my body.

  “What did you want to ask me last night?”

  “Would you rather me ask you or show you?”

  Delila grins, lighting the unlit cigarette that sits in her mouth. “I’m a showgirl, Dovey. Thought you’d know that by now.”

  I did. I do. But I don’t know how I’m going to show her without having all of my plan with me. I’ve come to the conclusion that I enjoy being on the road with Midnight Mayhem, as much as I’m still confused with how they go about recruiting their showrunners. I didn’t have a fabulous life before. In fact, one thing has stopped since I’ve been here, and that’s The Shadow. He hasn’t lurked in the club or been waiting for me in the parking lot. He hasn’t shown up in my dreams when I close my eyes at night, and he hasn’t whispered sweet nothings into my ear when I’ve been sitting in silence.

  It’s been quiet. Too quiet.

  After stretching, I make my way behind the main curtain and stand still at the congestion of all the props there. The triple ring of death, the cage, the bikes, bars, and ramps. There are copious amounts of prop equipment and a whole lot of anxious workers running around like bumble bees. I would hate to be behind here during a show. It must be hectic.

  “Looks like you survived last night, D?” Maya comes up beside me wearing oversized sunglasses, an Adidas hat, jumpsuit pants pushed up her legs, and a Fluro pink loose shirt that looks one size too large. She’s got a coffee in one hand and a joint in the other.

  “Good. You?” I ask, eyeing her up and down.

  “Don’t run your judgy eyes up and down me, little miss thang. I’m doing what I do.” She spins around and disappears through the curtain. Seeing Maya only reminds me that I still need to see King. After last night and seeing Val leave his room this morning, and me deciding that I quite like being here, only solidifies the fact that I need Delila to agree to what I’m going to propose to her. She’s not all that disagreeable, and she can be approachable, but I’ve learned in the very short space that I’ve been here that that is very selective with Delila. One minute she’s sunshine and then next she’s the storm.

  There’s no telling.

  Movement catches the corner of my eye, and before I can stop my wandering eyes, I’m looking right at King. My heart jumps to life in my chest and almost rears up my throat when I find him looking right at me. He’s walking closer and closer, coming closer and closer, and just when I think he’s about to talk to me, I figure out his eyes are actually over my shoulder, and he walks straight past me, as if I’m not there.

  As if I don’t exist.

  I used to think that having Kingston Axton’s attention was the worst feeling in the world, but I was wrong. Not having his attention is. Especially because now, he’s seen me naked.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and mentally co
unt to five.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Then I spin back around and enter through the way I came, knowing full well that I need to do what I’m here to do.

  Work.

  I had talked myself up so hard during those five seconds. Which is ironic because five seconds was exactly how long it took for that hype to come crashing down.

  Which was exactly when I was walking toward the stage and dipping behind one of the chairs.

  “Dove?” Keaton calls out when he enters. “We’re going to practice on the Triple Wheel of Death. You good with that?”

  I gulp. “Okay.” I hate that one. I wish we could practice on something else, but I quickly realize that it actually doesn’t matter, because King wants me dead.

  “Is your act planned out, Dove?” Delila asks, staring at me from down the aisle.

  I nod. “Yes. I think. As much as it will be. I’ll need a few things, though.”

  Delila curls her finger, so I head to her and rattle off everything I’ll need. Nothing major. A couple wine bottles, a waiter’s plate. You know, because I have no idea how I’m going to sell this idea that I not only want my own show, but I want to recruit a few people to join me.

  “Dove!” King barks from behind me, just as I hear the loud rumble of his bike vibrate around the large area.

  I spin around, knowing how awkward and annoying this is going to be.

  “I’ll get your things ready, Little Bird!” Delila yells over the bikes. Her eyes flick between King and me. “Good luck.”

  Stepping into the wheel, I fling myself up on the swing, and King drives the bike in next. He starts rocking it back and forth. He stops rocking once we’re partially in the air with Killian starting his bike down below. They’re waiting for Maya, so there are a few seconds when it’s just him, me, and his bike, and the seconds that seem to freeze time when your feet aren’t placed securely on the literal ground.

  I want to yell at him.