King’s Captive

by Amber Bardan

  I close my eyes and pray it’s going to be like this. That he’ll yank up the back of my dress and fuck me right here on the beach. That I won’t have to look him in the eye. Won’t have to touch him in return.

  That he won’t see me love every moment of it.

  He rolls me over. I struggle against his grasp, but when it comes to brute force I don’t stand a chance. His hips settle between mine. With my dress bunched around my waist the useless thong I’m wearing does nothing to shield me from the bulk filling the front of his pants. I club my fist and swing toward his ear.

  He catches both my wrists and pins them over my head with a roar. “I told you not to run.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Satisfaction coils noxious in my chest, then breathes out my lungs. “Go on, teach me, Julius.” I tilt my pelvis and my core drags over the length of his straining cock. “Aren’t I yours to take and keep and punish?”

  The grip on my wrists tightens. His face still clenches in the grip of adrenaline, fierce and animalistic, and all I want from him is one bite.

  “We’re married—so take it,” I say with another thrust of my hips. Those words burn. We are. We are, but I’m not that person. He wants her. Remembers her. Yearns for her. I’m not her.

  I hate them both for it.

  He leans into me. My wrists bury and grind in the sand. I arch for the taking, thighs falling wide. His erection nudges my mound as he hunches over me. Pleasure flares but I stare past him, past his head descending toward my cheek, to the darkening sky.

  “If you want to play this game—” his words glide from his mouth hot and wet against my ear “—want me to hold you down—” the fingers banding my wrists squeeze, sending the smallest creak of pain into my joints “—if it eases that battered conscience of yours to tell yourself that you have no choice, that I made you—” now it’s his hips torturing me with small delicious thrusts against my sex “—then by all means, baby, I’ll take great pleasure in pinning you down.” He moves again and now his face is above mine and there’s no looking past him. “But it’ll only be a game. You’ll know it and I’ll know it too.” His words rain down on me. “You’ll have to ask for it. You’ll have to say, Julius, hold me down—” His wide lips press together, then puff apart in the most provocative p I’ve ever seen. “Please.”

  My teeth gnash. With those words I somehow hate him more than ever. For not giving me this last game. For understanding just exactly how I tick when I don’t understand him at all. The snake inside me uncoils, exploding up my throat and filling my mouth with venom that flicks right off my tongue. “I hate you.”

  Teasing drops from his expression, and for an instant he’s exposed. His eyes wide and all I can think of is the moment he told me he loved me, the way his face looked then. The image is bitter and beautiful, and drives the snake to strike harder. “I wish you were dead.”

  He can’t shut himself down fast enough. Each word sends a ripple into his features and adds a new crease to his brow.

  “I’ll dance the day Fury finally kills you.”

  His eyes flare wider. The lapping of waves so close to our feet roars rhythmically, but the silence between us groans louder. He watches me, his gaze darting across my face as though it doesn’t know where to settle—as though he doesn’t know what to make of me or of us.

  Finally, he shouts, a howl torn from his guts. The sound ripples through me, shaking lose everything I’ve been struggling to hold together. My eyes blur. He releases my wrists and sits back on his heels. I bring my arms down and lift myself up onto my elbows. Julius reaches behind him, and tugs something from the back of his pants.

  My heart hammers again, just as hard from running, because I know what it is he has in his hands. He brings his gun between us. A tear squeezes out of my eye.

  I take a gulping breath.

  He lunges for me and pries my arm from the sand, then presses the cold steel into my palm. My fingers close around the handle, but I don’t even know how to hold something I despise this much.

  “You want me dead, then do it,” he says, rising up on his knees beside me to tug off his beautiful black jacket. “It’s only right that it should be by your hand.”

  Grit grates between my fingers and metal.

  My head spins.

  He doesn’t bother with buttons—he tears open his shirt, leaving it gaping where it’s still tucked into his pants. Then he takes my wrists and tugs me up onto my knees, as well, and slams the barrel of the gun right over the tattooed rose on his chest. “You want to kill me, then take my life.”

  My pulse pounds against the inside of my skull.

  Maybe I could doubt he means it. Maybe I could think this is just another game—if his eyes weren’t shining—if his voice weren’t breaking.

  His hands wrap tighter over mine, and he nudges my finger lower, toward the trigger. “Go on, this is your chance. I won’t give you another one.”

  Hot salty liquid runs down my cheeks and between my lips. His gaze burns into mine, and I lose all ability to breathe. I can’t ignore the evidence that crazy or not, good or bad, this man loves me.

  “If you want my life, take it, because I meant every vow I ever made to you. Even if you don’t remember, I’m yours until I die.” His finger squeezes, and the trigger gives a fraction. I strain against the pressure. “This is the only way you’ll ever be free of me.”

  I clamp my other hand over the gun. My triceps shake as I wrestle for control. He presses harder, his teeth showing, and the trigger almost sinks down.

  “No!” My scream echoes down the beach.

  He lets go.

  Chapter Thirty

  I fall onto my back with the gun clutched in my hands, then roll onto my side, pull my arm back, then throw with every bit of strength I have. The gun slips between black waves with a quiet splash. I collapse against the sand, gasping.

  Julius appears over me, and scoops me into his arms. The tension between us is broken. We pulled so hard we snapped. All that’s left now is throbbing, shredded and raw. I cling to him. There’s no denying how I feel. He kisses me. His stubble pricks me with every stretch and sweep of his lips. I wrap both arms around his neck and allow myself to be grazed. His tongue fills my mouth and knits me together. His palms clamp over my cheeks. The kiss deepens, fusing us together. My breasts sandwich between us. I straddle him. Open my mouth and absorb the clean, consuming taste of him. My airways fill with his sharp scent, and the undeniable masculinity of it seems to stroke right between my legs, inflaming the need already there.

  His hands move over me, then he lifts me up by my ass. Somehow he manages not to fall with me all serpentined around him. I let him carry me, something I swore I’d never do, but there’s no logic to these emotions. I rub my cheek over his stubble, then bury my face in his neck.

  By the time we make it to the house, into his room, my pulse is humming.

  He lowers me beside the bed. My bare toes brush the carpet, then the soles of my feet meet the ground. My weak knees dip before I catch myself. Our gazes meet, and the moment stretches.

  I’m so in my body and everything is real and pulsing.

  I turn to the bed and climb on, then settle on my knees with my back to him and sweep my hair over my shoulder. His fingers brush the hair at the base of my skull. A shiver passes over my skin. He unhooks the collar of the wedding dress. I cross my arms over my chest and reach for the fabric clinging to the tops of my shoulders and drag it down my arms.

  Goose bumps brush my knuckles as my skin meets the air and lace pools into my lap. His touch lingers at the base of my neck, then travels down my spine one inch at a time. I hunch forward, back curving. His mouth comes down between my shoulders, kissing and scraping a blazing trail toward my tailbone. I sink onto my forearms. Sand grinds between the bedspread and me. He drags the
dress over my hips along with my thong. His mouth and touch never slow.

  The dress has my knees trapped together, but his hands are on my ass, spreading me open, drawing me back, making me clench. His stubble scrapes my thighs, then the wet heat of his tongue drags over my pussy. Tension coils through my sex, blossoming heavily in my womb. My head drops between my arms like I’m praying. His arm clamps over my lower back and he tugs me deeper toward his face, his tongue stroking from my clit to my ass. A moan breaks free of my lips and I hold on to the bedspread. He pushes my ass wider, then closes his mouth right over my vagina and sinks his tongue inside me.

  A wave of pleasure rolls up my body. I jerk, but his arm keeps me clamped to his mouth, and all I can do is be consumed. The hard, tight peaks of my nipples knock against the bedspread. His tongue plunges deep. My hips twist. I press my face into the bed, dragging in lungfuls of laundry-scented air. His hand moves between my legs and touches my throbbing clitoris. Bliss slams into me like a nail, driving tension to a blinding twitching peak. My nipples brush cotton again and again, and it’s like life itself has changed texture, friction pushing another layer of strain against my pulsing body. He presses my clit in circles while devouring my pussy. It’s vulgar and perfect. Heat swamps me, my extremities ignite. Blood rushes to my cheeks and breasts and cunt. My thighs twitch. His tongue plunges. Every muscle clamps down, drawing tight and hitching toward explosion.

  He releases me abruptly. I snap from the edge with all the violent sting of a giant elastic band. My mouth gapes and the sound that spills from me is guttural and dripping with need.

  I collapse. Wet from pussy, to ass, to thighs—from his mouth and from me. I glance behind me. He tugs the ends of his shirt from his pants, and shrugs it off, then moves on to his belt. I roll over, kick my legs out of the dress and push his hands from his waist. I’ve always dreamed of touching this buckle and today it’s mine. I slide down to the carpet between him and the bed and lay my hands on his belly. His muscles contract under my palms. I press my forehead to his warm stomach, and reach for the belt. Soft short hairs tickle my face. There’s more hair on his right side than his left. I push the end of the belt through the frame of the buckle, then pull the strap back hard, releasing the prong from the notch, and slide the belt open.

  His erection pushes against the fabric of his pants. My thighs squeeze. Anticipation itches through me hard, and I’m right back on that edge. I slide a small black button out of the buttonhole and yank down his fly.

  His cock springs free and bumps me on the cheek. I jerk back and it’s reality that hits me square in the eye.

  Because Julius... There’s got to be over six feet of him wrapped in lean muscle.

  He’s probably double my weight.

  And the man is superbly proportioned.

  His cock sweeps upward, not completely straight but abundantly thick and plenty long, just like him. He’s twice my size and his cock is most likely twice my capacity. I glance at him and smile. Being with Julius would always be a struggle, and this wouldn’t be half the fun if it wasn’t a challenge.

  I wrap my hands around his length. He throws his head back and groans. Then he looks back down at me and my breath stops in my chest. The promise of what’s to come is as thrilling as it is frightening.

  He loves me.

  He wants me.

  He loves me, and I’ve never said it back. Not in this life. Can’t say it, because I have no idea what this thing is. But right here in his eyes is the promise—he’s going to push me.

  He wants those feelings returned even if he has to drive them into me himself.

  His cock slides in my fists, firmer than something made of flesh and blood should ever be able to be. He kicks off his shoes and manages to remove his pants while I still hold on to his cock.

  I want to suck him. Want to put him in my mouth. My tongue is wet but my courage has run dry. His hand wraps around my throat, and he guides me back so my neck arches against the mattress. I’m trapped between him and the bed. My neck bent just as he wants it to be.

  He steps in, one foot at either side of my hips. “Open your mouth, baby.”

  The river I’ve been playing in has turned raging. Can’t dangle my legs or dip my toes—I dive right in—let it drag me under.

  I let my mouth fall wide, but he doesn’t give me a breath to take, his hand covers mine and he brings his cock between my lips and across my tongue. There’s a moment to taste him—and he’s musky and male and I want to eat this feeling whole—then he’s filling my mouth and breaching my throat. He pulls out and I gasp, my hands falling to grasp his hips.

  I stretch my jaw wider and when he comes back to me, I suck the thick veiny expanse of him with lips and tongue and throat. He groans. The sound of his satisfaction floods me with a powerful rush. He draws back and I suck his dusky-pink head. Try to wrap my mind around how this huge thing is going to feel entering me. I run my tongue along the edge of his cock, licking his ridges. My pulse pounds under his grip. He pushes a little too far. My throat spasms. I cough and dig my fingers into his hips but never stop sucking. His touch travels from my neck up to my face, and he strokes the hollow my cheek makes sucking him. My gaze flies up to his. He rocks forward into my mouth.

  His eyes flicker. “Oh, baby.”

  A different kind of pleasure blasts me. His words make me feel like I’ve been crowned princess of the world. Because he’s almost helpless. With me on my knees, with my neck bent against his bed, his cock stealing my breath, he’s the one defenseless.

  His cock slips free of my mouth. I gulp in the air I’ve been missing, but still can’t quite catch it all. He drags me up by my arms, then I’m spread out on his bed and covered by him in one agile move. My skin ripples with life, sensing every place he’s pressed against me. Nude as I am nude. His hardness squishing my softness. The hairs on his body tingling my smooth areas. I let my legs fall open and my body screams it’s ready.

  His cock nudges between my folds.

  My muscles brace. I grasp his shoulder blades but can’t get hold of him. He presses into me. I shout a sound. It’s exquisite and it’s agony. I’m stretching almost to breaking. His cock pushes in, maybe another inch. My pussy spasms, crowded and full. Nameless feelings wash through me. My eyes roll back. He buries himself all the way. My body bows, my neck cranes, and my eyes water. His hand runs over me. My eyes refocus, but I can hardly gasp, I’m too full to take in anything more.

  He squeezes the hair behind my ear—forcing my gaze to his—forcing my attention to the breath of space between his lips and mine.

  Forces me, just by the look of him, to remember this arcane man loves me.

  He makes me feel it.

  He makes me experience it—wretched as it is wonderful. He pulls back, then thrusts inside my straining vagina. The tears collected in my ducts escape. Shivers of pleasure wrap around me. My nose bumps against his, and I grasp his magnificent ass. My arm burns from my wound but I can’t let go. He moves again and this time the thrust is real. I’m wet and wanting enough that he glides through my slickness, but that doesn’t mean he truly fits. He lowers his mouth to mine. Our lips meet, and I taste his one softness. My hips rise to meet his next thrust, and I’m swept into euphoria where there’s a different me and him. I make sounds against his tongue. His kiss deepens, but my eyes strain open. He thrusts hard and when he hits my limits, he keeps pushing. Until I’m breaking. Deep, deep in my chest, I’m breaking there. My body tingles like I’m full of static, pleasure lashing like licks of electricity.

  I’m spilling out of my skin. He punctures the deepest places I possess. His tongue fills my mouth, his cock fills my body. I hold on. The tension spreads, deeper and rawer than ever before. His hips move powerfully between my thighs. I pull my knees back to take him deeper. He knocks against some incredible place inside me. Ecstasy gathers along my nerves.
r />   He breaks our kiss, and squeezes my hair in his fists.

  “Sarah.” He stares at me, then pounds into me. The sound of my name wraps around my heart and the bliss of his thrusts crash through me at once. I erupt—screaming—muscles contracting in spasming rapture. My fingers tighten on his ass and I squeeze him in, and in, and in, and still can’t take him in enough.

  Pleasure expands my cells, and I pulse with it.

  He sinks deep, then rests there. My pussy tightens around his thickness again and again. I feel every glorious fraction he impales me with.

  His grip moves to my cheek, tilting my gaze to his.

  He rocks his hips against me and triumph plays across his features in the most lascivious of smiles. “Beautiful girl, keep coming on me.”

  It’s like there’s a button from my ears that sets off my cunt, because the pulsing keeps going. He gives a rumbling growl, then sits back, and his gaze fixes where he fills me. My thighs strain, and I push up from my feet and grind myself against him. His thumb glides between my stretched folds and he rubs. My hips buck, orgasm tearing up my spine.

  He catches me by the back of the knees, and rolls me over.

  Then he’s on me, his weight settling heavy and overwhelming along my back. He slides his arms underneath me, one over my chest and one clamped across my belly, and crushes me to him. We’re so close it’s impossible to get closer. So close the intimacy imprints and leaves a stain.

  He’s wedged his way between my thighs. His soaked cock rests along my slit, and he rubs himself there. My oversensitive clitoris screams. I can’t take it but there’s no way to resist and there’s no room to move.