King's Price

by Jackie Ashenden

  The lick of her tongue, the scrape of her teeth over my lip was electric, the taste of her like honey. I was desperate to devour her but the hungry way she kissed me did things to me, sucking away all my anger and giving me desire in its place.

  She left me breathless.

  Then suddenly her mouth was gone, trailing down over my jaw and my neck, her lips pressing against my throat. Going further, her tongue licking along the line of the scar Thompson’s knife had left on me.

  I didn’t know why that made me feel like my heart was slowly being squeezed in a giant fist. And when her mouth moved down, tracing the line of each and every scar, the cigarettes they’d ground out on my chest and stomach, the twisted line where the baseball bat had broken the skin, that fist squeezed tighter.

  Making me weak. Leaving me vulnerable.

  ‘Vita.’ I gripped her hair, tugging her head away. ‘No.’

  But her black eyes were bright with determination. ‘I want to give you better memories,’ she said huskily. ‘Let me, the way I let you.’

  But I already had the taste and feel of her beautiful body, the sound of her screaming my name instead of the pain of the knife and the burn of the cigarettes. The scent of her arousal instead of the smell of my own flesh burning.

  I didn’t need her delicate tongue and her mouth tracing the reminders of how weak I’d been.

  I gripped her hair tighter. ‘No.’

  ‘Please,’ she said. ‘You know you can trust me.’

  Trust, fuck. I had no idea what that meant any more, if I ever had. Or why she offered it to me without guile or manipulation, her honesty laid bare in her eyes.

  Such a mistake. She needed to protect herself better, especially from men like me.

  I opened my mouth to tell her no, but she leaned forward again, giving me another of those sweet, soul-stealing kisses, and somehow I couldn’t bring myself to pull her away again.

  So I sat there, my fingers wound in the silkiness of her hair, letting her kiss her way down my body. Letting her lick and taste each mark, each scar. Tracing them then putting her mouth over them like she was sucking poison from a snakebite.

  Thompson’s knife had undone me with pain and now Vita was undoing me with pleasure. I should stop her, take control of the situation again, show her that she couldn’t mess with me the way she was doing, but...

  Christ. My pulse thundered in my head, my cock aching like a bastard, and I couldn’t drag my gaze away from that little pink tongue, watching it on my skin as she went lower and lower.

  And it struck me that I’d never been touched like this before. Oh, women had gone down on me—I liked a blow job; what man didn’t? But I’d never let anyone run their tongue over my scars or trace them with their fingers. I’d never told anyone what they were or what they meant.

  I’d never told anyone about them, full stop.

  Yet I’d not only told Vita, I’d let her touch me too.

  Vita, with her bright black eyes and her honesty, her trust and her passion.

  Slipping between my thighs to kneel on the floor, she then reached to unzip me. I hadn’t bothered with underwear when I’d got up earlier so there was nothing between her cool fingers and my rock-hard cock as she opened my trousers and drew me out.

  My breath escaped in a hiss as she wrapped those fingers around me, her hair trailing silkily over my thighs and stomach as she bent forward. Then her lips brushed the head of my dick and a growl escaped my throat.

  I reached down, gathering her hair in my fist and away from her face so I could watch that pretty tongue lick me.

  ‘More,’ I demanded, unable to help myself.

  But she ignored me, licking, nipping, making me jerk and shiver under her touch, making me growl yet again.

  I’d taught her what I liked in a blow job over the course of the past few days, and I liked it rough, with teeth and a firm touch. But she wasn’t doing that now. She was being careful, delicate. Teasing me with gentleness. I wanted to push her head down on me, make her take me all the way to the back of her throat, yet...

  I liked this. I liked the care she was taking with me and I had no bloody idea why.

  Her tongue swirled, and I gritted my teeth, holding on to her hair as another electric jolt of pleasure hit. ‘Put me in your mouth,’ I ordered, though it sounded more like a plea. ‘Fuck, Vita. Do it.’

  Those perfect red lips closed around my cock and she watched me all the while, the heat of her mouth making me lose what little breath I had left.

  ‘Jesus,’ I forced out as her fingers tightened around my dick. ‘Vixen...’

  Then she sucked me. Slow and deep, fast and shallow. Hard then soft. Letting me see my own hard flesh disappearing into her mouth then sliding back out again.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  The whole world shrank down to this moment. I forgot about Thompson and his fucking knives. I forgot about the scars marking me and how she’d undone me with her kisses. Forgot about the camera on the laptop recording us. I forgot about everything except her midnight gaze and the stars glittering in it. And her mouth surrounding me, taking me in so deep I could finally feel the back of her throat, her fingers squeezing me tight, pumping me.

  I lifted my hips in time with the suction, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter, a hot ball of it at the base of my spine, ready to explode.

  Then she lifted her lips a moment and whispered, ‘Say my name,’ before swallowing me down again, her fingers tight around my dick. She made a soft, satisfied sound that vibrated against my aching flesh and, just like that, the hot ball of pleasure detonated, a column of fire shooting straight up my spine, exploding like a bomb in my head.

  My fingers tightened in her hair and I thrust helplessly up into her mouth, roaring her name as I came.

  Afterwards, my ears ringing, my body pulsing with the aftershocks, I hauled her up off the floor, putting her onto her back on the couch then shifting over her.

  She put her arms around my neck, giving a delicious little shiver as I settled between her thighs. My cock brushed the wet folds of her pussy, already getting hard at the contact, but she gave no sign of noticing, her dark eyes serious as they searched my face.

  ‘Leon, I—’ she began.

  But I’d said all I wanted to say about it for the night so I laid a finger over her mouth. ‘No more,’ I murmured. ‘I gave you what you wanted. That’s enough.’

  Frustration flickered in her expression. ‘But I want to talk about you. Why don’t you tell me what you were like as a child?’

  She was very warm under me and the smell of sex and feminine musk was heady. I could suddenly think of a million things I wanted to do more than talk about my childhood, and all of them included her naked body.

  ‘Why?’ I flexed my hips so my cock slid against her slick flesh. ‘I’d rather fuck you senseless.’

  She hissed, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. I wanted to bite it myself so I leaned down, but she jerked her head to the side, avoiding me. ‘No, not yet.’

  I growled, but she refused to be distracted. ‘Come on, Leon. I’m curious.’

  So she didn’t want to play.

  I debated trying to convince her, but then dismissed the idea. Clearly, she wasn’t going to give up until I’d given her what she wanted. Bloody determined little vixen.

  ‘What was I like as a kid?’ I said, surrendering. ‘I was quiet. I liked to read a lot. When I was about ten I got heavily into computers and computer games.’

  Amusement glittered in her eyes. ‘So, nerdy then?’

  I thought about my younger self. Trying to escape the reality of his life any way he could, with books at first then in the glow of the computer screen and the roar of computer-generated gunfire.

  ‘You could say that,’ I agreed.

  Amusement turned to mischief. ‘
Computer club at school?’

  ‘Naturally. All the best people were in the computer club at school.’

  ‘I know.’ She grinned. ‘I was in the computer club. And the science club. And the photography club. In fact, if there was a club you can pretty much guarantee that I was part of it.’

  Curious, I searched for the teenager she’d once been in the sharp, lovely face of the controlled adult she’d become. She would have been bright. Intense. Passionate.

  If I’d met her in high school I would have thought she was amazing, I realised. My childhood had been overshadowed by the reality of my father’s business and his ruthlessness when it came to running it; Vita’s intensity would have been a bright light shining in the darkness...

  Christ, I wouldn’t only have thought she was amazing. I would have fallen head over heels for her.

  ‘I wish I’d known you then,’ I said before I could stop myself. ‘I think I would have liked you.’

  Her smile became radiant. As if I’d given her a gift. ‘I think I would have liked you too. Though you’d probably have intimidated the hell out of me.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  She blushed. ‘You’re hot—and hot boys were always intimidating.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Only a very hot person would ask that question.’

  Ah.

  I flexed my hips again, loving the feel of her against me. ‘You shouldn’t have been intimidated. Don’t you know you’re beautiful?’

  She caught her breath but that smile still tugged at her mouth. ‘That sounds like a song lyric.’

  ‘All my best pick-up lines are song lyrics.’ I stared down at her. ‘Seriously, though, I mean it. You’re lovely. I thought I showed you that in the mirror in the lift.’

  ‘You did. But it’s hard to accept sometimes, especially when it’s always been made clear to you that you’re not.’

  I frowned, stroking the hair back from her forehead. ‘That bastard Simon has a lot to answer for.’

  ‘Not only Simon. My parents aren’t exactly supportive types. Clara was the one with the looks in my family, which was pointed out to me a lot.’

  Her insecurities made sense to me all of a sudden. A beautiful sister and parents who couldn’t see what I saw—the passion, the honesty, the bright-eyed curiosity...

  ‘Poor Clara,’ I said. ‘She only got looks. You got brains and beauty.’

  Vita flushed. ‘I wasn’t fishing, if that’s what you think.’

  ‘I know you’re not. I’m just giving you the truth.’ And I let her see it in my gaze. ‘Brains. Beauty. Honesty. Passion. You got it all, vixen.’

  Her mouth curved, pleasure alight in her eyes. Then it faded, her expression turning serious. ‘You’re very good for me, Leon King. But you’re also very bad. You probably need to stop.’

  I didn’t know what she meant by that.

  Are you sure you don’t?

  Okay, maybe I did. And maybe I liked it. Especially the being good for her part.

  I liked that very much.

  ‘Do you really want me to stop?’ I ran my hands down her sides then slid my palms beneath the curve of her butt. Gathering her flesh in my palms, I squeezed her lightly. ‘Because I’m okay with being good for you.’

  Her breath caught. ‘Maybe...you don’t need to stop that part.’

  ‘What about the bad?’ I slipped my fingers between her thighs, searching, exploring. ‘I definitely don’t want to be bad for you.’

  She gave a soft gasp as my fingers found soft, wet flesh, then groaned. ‘I think you should stop talking.’

  I grinned. And stopped talking.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Vita

  ALL THAT SEX should have knocked me out cold but I couldn’t sleep. My head was too full of the terrible things Leon had told me and his understandable reluctance to talk about them.

  Eventually, after tossing and turning, I slipped off the couch, leaving Leon fast asleep beside me, picking up his shirt again and putting it on. Then I got the throw that had been hung over the arm of the couch and covered him with it, being sure not to wake him.

  As I drew the throw up around his bare shoulders I looked down at him, my heart aching.

  His father must have been one hell of a bastard to have left him in the hands of the monsters who’d hurt him. No wonder he’d set about making himself dangerous. No wonder he’d turned himself into a weapon.

  He’d done everything he could to protect himself.

  Unsettled, I turned from him and, after a second’s thought, went into the pristine minimalist stainless steel and white tile kitchen.

  I loved kitchens. They were my laboratory for the wonderful chemistry that was baking, and Leon’s kitchen was up there with the best. I wandered around it, checking out cupboards and poking my nose in drawers, opening up the oven to have a look.

  Then, needing something to distract myself, I went over to the pantry to see what kind of baking ingredients he had. Not many, but the basics were there.

  In the early days after I’d been sent to live with my aunt, when I couldn’t sleep I would sometimes get up in the middle of the night and bake something. The focus it required had given me a break from my thoughts, plus I loved that it was chemistry without having to be in a lab.

  I didn’t think Leon would mind if I used his kitchen, so I set about whipping up a quick batch of scones. I’d been experimenting with an old recipe my aunt had given me, trying to get the best rise, but I hadn’t had much luck. So now I pushed all thoughts of Leon’s past out of my mind as I bustled about, getting the ingredients out.

  Totally absorbed, I made two batches and was just getting the second batch out of the oven when a deep, husky male voice said from behind me, ‘Do I want to know why you’re baking scones in my kitchen at five-thirty in the morning?’

  I turned around with my tray full of scones to find him standing on the other side of the kitchen island, his hands in his pockets and his trousers half zipped. The fabric sat low on his hips, revealing golden skin and a crisp glory trail of tawny hair that had my mouth watering.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I said, clearing my throat as I put the tray down on the kitchen island counter.

  ‘So you bake?’

  I’d conditioned myself not to talk about the things that excited me, but there wasn’t much point in pretending to be casual about my baking. Not now there were two batches of scones sitting there.

  ‘Yes.’ I took off the oven gloves and put them on the counter next to the tray. ‘I like to. Especially when I can’t sleep.’

  His smoky golden gaze focused on the trays of scones. ‘These look...amazing.’

  The simple praise warmed me like the sun on a winter’s day and I couldn’t help smiling. ‘Thanks. I’ve been messing around with a recipe of my aunt’s, trying to get a better rise. I think the second batch is better.’

  ‘They all look great to me, not to mention smell bloody delicious.’ He lifted a brow. ‘There’s jam in the fridge. And butter.’

  ‘Was that a subtle hint?’

  ‘It was subtle?’

  I laughed, turning to get what he’d suggested from the fridge. There was whipped cream in a spray can so I grabbed that too.

  When I turned back, he was in the process of grinding beans and making coffee.

  ‘It’s tea and scones, you know,’ I pointed out, putting the items down on the counter.

  ‘Not here it isn’t,’ he said decisively. ‘Coffee. Always.’

  He filled the stovetop espresso maker and put it on the element, then came back over to the counter to stand beside me. ‘Why baking?’ He reached for a scone. ‘Seems an odd thing for a scientist to do.’

  ‘Not really. Baking is just chemistry.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Of course. It’s all about
mixing things to create chemical reactions. How one ingredient works with another, or doesn’t work depending on the measurement. It’s fascinating how they all work together.’ I warmed to my favourite subject. ‘Or don’t if you mess up the proportions. Or how amazing it can turn out if you add something else.’

  He smiled and it wasn’t the manufactured smile of a man setting out to charm, but spontaneous and full of warmth. It turned him from hot to breathtaking in a matter of seconds. ‘Where did you learn to bake? Did that get you into chemistry or vice versa?’

  I blushed under the warmth of that smile. ‘My aunt taught me. The one I got sent away to. She thought I needed something to do. And since it was like science, with all that precise measuring, I...’ I faltered, feeling silly for no good reason.

  ‘You liked it,’ he finished, that gorgeous smile curling his mouth.

  My cheeks felt hot. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’re good at it too.’ He pulled the scone in his hands apart and it steamed gently, the delicious smell filling the space between us. ‘My mother died when I was young,’ he went on. ‘I don’t remember her, but I do remember the various stepmothers I had. One of them used to bake. Not often and not well, but she did. Scones were her best recipe and, though they weren’t as good as these, my brothers and I used to like them.’ He looked down at the scone in his hand. ‘When she baked, it was like...I had a normal family.’

  My breath caught at the unexpected confession. He was looking down, golden lashes veiling his expression, but I heard the wistfulness in his voice.

  Part of me didn’t want to speak in case I ruined the moment, but I couldn’t stop myself. He’d let me have another crumb of information about himself and I was hooked.

  ‘Is that what you wanted?’ I tried to sound casual. ‘A normal family?’

  ‘Yes. Christ, I would have given anything for Dad to be a builder or an accountant or, shit, a truck driver. But he wasn’t.’ There was a flash of gold as he glanced at me. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this.’

  I tried to keep things light. ‘Because you’re hungry and you want a scone, and you’ll do anything to get one?’