Empire of Lust: Chapter 12

This is the second time in my life that I’ve been carried. Or more accurately, the third, since he probably carried me into the house last night.

Ironically, the first time was also by him.

Kingsley.

Aka the most infuriating man to have ever walked the earth. The most attractive, too.

Only, I’m not over his shoulder like all those years ago. Now, he’s carrying me bridal style like in some cheesy movie. For a second, I’m too disoriented to decipher the change of events. It isn’t until we’re out of Gwen’s room and down the hall that I snap out of it.

I slam my fist against his chest and I swear the hard thing makes a sound under my hand. Maybe he’s not human, after all, and I’m trapped with a soulless machine.

But would I be this out of my depth if he weren’t flesh and bones?

“What the hell are you doing, Kingsley?”

“Taking you to a more fitting setting. I don’t know about you, but sex in my daughter’s room is a turn-off.”

“Let me down!” I grind out, kicking my legs in the air to make him loosen his hold.

He digs his fingers into my waist and I wince. “Unless you want to worsen your injuries, stay fucking still.”

I’m about to bite his ear off when he shoves a door open to…his room.

I merely passed it earlier in the midst of Martha’s obvious attempts to keep me as far away from it as possible.

White light fills the space, highlighting the clean, minimalistic, and almost clinical appearance of the room. The colors are just as basic—gray, black, and white.

My heart skips a beat when I realize those are the exact colors in my own bedroom. Jeez. Talk about some twisted coincidences.

Kingsley drops me on the bed, gently but also with the type of firmness that displays his need for dominance.

I lift myself on my elbows just in time to witness him remove his jacket. His movements drip with control, ease, and the confidence of a man who knows what he’s doing and where he’s going.

His white shirt stretches across his muscular chest as he throws the jacket somewhere I can’t see. Then, without breaking eye contact with me, he unbuttons his cufflinks and rolls the sleeves of his shirt over his powerful forearms.

I couldn’t look away even if I tried. Because the thing is, Kingsley is veiny. He has big hands with long fingers and visible veins that stretch from the backs of them to his arms.

And even though I somehow forgot the details from back then, the memory of what those hands did to me is starting to hit me. Right between my legs.

Not to mention that the cuts on the back of his hands and knuckles add a barbaric edge to his already callous appearance.

At this moment, he could be classified as a merciless monarch with a penchant for conquering.

“Here’s the thing, sweetheart,” he speaks in a voice full of lust that drags out my own. “Your lips are injured and your tongue is chewed on, probably because you refused to give the fuckers the satisfaction of seeing you weak. As a result, you bit on it, constantly, until you nearly bit it off.”

My mouth falls open. “How…”

“You said it back then, right? You’d rather swallow your poison. I know Nietzsche is your idol and the holy messiah of your brain, but he’s a fucking moron who couldn’t make up his mind, so the next time you’re in a life-threatening situation…” His knee drops between my legs, effortlessly prying them open as he slams a hand on the mattress by my head. The other cups my jaw again. His thumb glides over my lips, and they tingle with both pleasure and pain. “You’ll open these fucking lips and scream for help. Am I clear?”

“I told you I don’t believe in that.” I try to push his hand away, but he leaves me no room to fight. He has the type of infuriating authority that’s impossible to budge, and while I rebelled against it before, I can feel myself losing that warrior spirit now.

“You’ll start to…eventually. Now…” He slides his thumb back and forth over my lips again, not sparing the swollen or cut or broken parts. “Seeing as you’re in pain, I’m upgrading the earlier challenge from a kiss to something else.”

“Something else…?”

My low-spoken question remains hanging in the air as he tactfully drops his hand between my breasts and fingers them through the material until both my nipples protrude. The friction against the dress is so painful that I gasp.

“You’re so sensitive here, aren’t you?” he says with dark sadism, then closes his lips around the nipple through the cloth and sucks. The fact that he didn’t even bother to remove the dress and is doing it through it is dirtier than anything I could’ve imagined.

He licks and probes and bites my nipple so hard, I think I’ll come from the friction alone. The bursts of pain from my shoulder and upper chest blend with the pleasure and spreads to my aching core.

It’s too much.

Him.

This.

Everything about this moment is too surreal in nature that I can’t wrap my mind around it. All I can do is fall into its trap with the helplessness of a prey.

My hair forms a halo over my head from how much I’m writhing. The discomfort from my bruises and his unapologetic claiming makes the atmosphere animalistic in nature.

And just when I think I might orgasm from the sensation alone, Kingsley releases the tortured nipple, leaving a wet, transparent blotch on the white dress and licks his lips as if proud of his handiwork.

I’m ready to call him a hundred colorful names, but that thought vanishes because his head lowers to my other nipple, gracing it with the same attention he gave the previous one.

My hands ball into painful fists, strangling the sheet, and I wish it was in disgust. In denial. Anything but what I’m feeling right now.

Excitement and a scary sensation of letting go.

My nipples throb, sending a straight zap between my legs with each of his brutal bites.

“Oh, God…”

“Bit unfair that he gets the praise for something I’m doing,” he says, flicking his tongue on my nipple, then he bites down until I gasp. “Now, say my name.”

“Fuck you, Kingsley.”

He chuckles, the sound dark and demented as he bites my nipple one final time and slides between my legs. “I’m going to fuck that attitude out of you, sweetheart.”

I’m disoriented when he lowers himself to the foot of the bed. I don’t understand what’s going on until he kneels there and flings my legs over his hard shoulders and dives between my thighs.

The delicious feeling of being stretched to my limit barely registers because he’s yanking the dress up to my waist.

His lips find my inner thigh and I shudder when he breathes me in slowly, as if savoring a chef’s main course.

Then he bites the inner flesh. Hard.

“Ugh. That hurts, asshole.” I grab both his shoulders trying to push him away, but he bites again, this time, ripping a whimper out of me.

“Stay still or it will hurt more,” he speaks against my skin, then sucks on it, flicking his tongue back and forth until I’m a wiggling mess.

I fall back on the mattress, my hands, just like my resolve, barely holding on.

My skin is lit on fire with his bites, nibbles, and eventual soothing sucks. It’s like he takes pleasure in how I jump, then fail at suppressing my moans.

By the time he reaches my underwear, I’m panting and struggling to breathe.

“You’re the only woman who looks sexy as fuck in cotton panties, witch.” He proceeds to prove his words by biting my folds through the material.

A spark of fire spreads through my core and damn near jolts me upright. Kingsley shreds the underwear with his bare teeth, creating unbearable friction against my most intimate part.

“You’re so wet for someone who claimed not to want me.”

“S-shut up, jerk…”

“Is it a wise idea to call me names when your pussy is soaking my mouth like a little whore?”

My thighs physically tremble and I hate my illogical reaction. “Don’t…call me that.”

“Call you what?” He does a long lick from the bottom to the top of my slit, stealing my breath in the process.

“W-hore. I’m no one’s whore.”

“No one’s but mine, because I’ll eat your pussy like you are one.” He jams his tongue against my clit with a force that sends me over the edge.

The climax is so strong that my mouth remains open in a wordless cry. And then I’m screaming so loud, I’m surprised I don’t bring the whole place down.

Kingsley, however, doesn’t seem to be done. He thrusts his tongue inside my opening, slamming the earlier wave into a more powerful one. He tongue-fucks me hard, fast, and with so much control that I’m gasping for air.

My fingers mindlessly sink into his hair and I pull on the silky strands, practically grinding against his mouth.

I’m desperate for something that I can’t pinpoint.

Something that’s building inside me with the power of the storm that’s glinting in his eyes whenever he stares at me.

Or glares.

I don’t even know anymore.

Sometimes, he looks at me as if I’m the conquest he intends to wreck into irreparable pieces.

And maybe I look at him like the challenge he’ll never win. The black horse that’s never going to be tamed.

It’s push and pull. Give and take. Even right now when he thinks I’m completely at his mercy, though I’m absolutely not.

Kingsley tightens his hold on my thighs, putting a halt to my frantic movements. But he continues to suck, nibble and fuck my folds until I’m delirious.

Jesus. He’s driving me insane.

Just when I think I’m going to become one with the bed, the sound of something vibrating echoes like doom in the air.

Kingsley emerges from between my legs and licks his lips. “You taste as wild as you look.”

I expect him to come back for that taste, but he retrieves his phone from his pocket, stares at the screen, then tells me, “I have to take this. Be quiet for me, sweetheart.”

I start to pull back, but Kingsley releases my thigh and thrusts two fingers inside me at the same time as he answers, “Shaw speaking… Yes, I’m free to talk.”

Holy shit. Is this crazy asshole for real?

Apparently, he is, because he curls his fingers inside me and I have to slam a hand on my mouth to silence any embarrassing sounds.

“Yes, I understand,” he says with the calmness of a sinning priest.

How the hell can he stay in his element while he’s rearranging my insides?

I don’t get an answer to that, but I get another finger, and this time, the three of them are so deep inside me that they hit my G-spot. Once, twice…

My head rolls back and a lusty noise slips from me.

Kingsley smirks with the cunningness and dripping charm of Lucifer himself as he shakes his head, then proceeds to finger-fuck me. In and out with a frantic rhythm that robs my sanity.

Goddamn it.

God. Fucking. Damn. It.

The fact that someone else could hear my cries of pleasure doesn’t seem to stop me from releasing them. If anything, all I hear is the sloshing sound of his fingers sinking in and out of my arousal and the pure filthiness of it tugs me to the edge.

An edge so steep, I’m both exhilarated and terrified to take the leap.

“I’ll make a final offer after I review last year’s statistics. If they’re below my standards, I’ll drop them before they take their next dose of oxygen.” He pulls the phone away and mouths, “There. Good girl.”

I come then. From the combination of the situation, his words, and how his fingers pound into me fast and hard.

My noises are uncontrollable and I turn my head to the side and stuff my face into the mattress to muffle them.

Kingsley continues lazily thrusting his fingers inside me until he finishes the call.

I stay hidden in the mattress, both shame and thrill coursing through me with equal intensity.

Just what the hell happened to me just now? Do I need to start seeing some therapist to understand myself better? Because my body, soul, and heart seem to have given my brain the time out of his life.

Two powerful hands cup my cheeks forcing me to face him, and that’s when I find him standing above me, looking at me with an expression he has no business directing at me.

The same way he looked at me all those years ago. When he said he decided to keep me after all.

His fingers slide all over my face and hair with a gentle yet possessive touch. “So beautifully broken, my little whore.”

I snap out of it and push him away, scooting backward on the mattress. “I’m not your whore.”

Light shines in his usually dim eyes. “Would you rather be called a good girl then?”

“N-no.”

“You just came for it. But then again, you got wetter when I called you a little whore, so that means you have both a degradation and a praise kink. Interesting.”

“Your death will also be interesting if you don’t stop this. And can you tell me what the hell that was all about just now?”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that. Just now, a lot of things happened and all of them ended with filthy orgasms and your pussy falling in love with my fingers and tongue. Next up will be my dick’s turn.”

I can’t help the heat that covers my neck at his crass, dirty words. Just why does he say them with such ease? Still, I force myself to respond, “The talking on the phone while touching me part. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“The same variation of what’s wrong with you, because you came like a very good girl.”

I jolt at that word again and the bastard doesn’t miss it, because he smirks. “Needless to say, I win. Better wear your best armor, sweetheart, because shit is about to get real when I seriously pursue you.”

After I freshen up, I put on the nearest sweater over my dress to hide the embarrassing wet spots. Then I’m ready to bolt out of Kingsley’s house and get my brain checked by a doctor.

Maybe the thugs hit my head hard enough to knock some screws loose. That’s the only way I can make sense of the fiasco that just happened.

The whole situation doesn’t make sense and it’s making me suspicious. Just why would he want me? He never did before—at least, not as Kingsley Shaw.

Is it only because he recalled that night from twenty-one years ago? But that’s still ambiguous. He has some sort of antisocial and narcissistic tendencies, and the amount of people he genuinely cares about amounts to Gwen and Nate. So he couldn’t have been pining for me all this time.

In fact, he made it clear that he’d get rid of me. Is that what this is all about? He couldn’t find a method to take me to the board so he’s playing a seduction game? But he’s not the type to stoop to that level, not to mention, he’s direct to a fault.

Goddamn it.

All this thinking about his motives is driving me insane and his closeness makes matters worse. I need to get out of here to clear my head.

But Kingsley has other plans. Of fucking course.

He basically drags me to the dining room which is big, cold, and dispassionate just like him.

The table is set for two and Kingsley sits at the head of it like a dark lord in hell. It’s stupidly unfair that he still looks as elegant as ever in his white shirt, black slacks, and perfectly styled hair while I’m struggling to remain standing.

Grabbing a napkin, he motions at the chair to his right. “Sit down and eat.”

“Can you stop acting like you’re my boss outside of the firm?”

“That would be a no. And it’s not like you allow me to act like your boss at the firm.”

I flip my hair. “That’s because I happen to be as good as you at what I do.”

“Arrogant much?”

“You’re arrogant, too, but since you have a dick between your legs, it’s called charisma. Yet when a woman has confidence in herself and her work, she’s labeled an egotistical bitch. If we’re going to be fair, you should be called an egotistical dick.”

“Then I guess we’re fair, because you call me that all the time. But you might want to stop giving attention to my dick or he’ll take it as an invitation.”

“On another planet, asshole.”

“You speak as if I can’t arrange it. Also, don’t pretend you don’t want me. Not only is that a blatant lie, but I also have the evidence to prove the opposite.”

“What evidence?”

“Your body shattered for me, even when you were in pain.”

“That’s called a physical reaction.”

“Physical reaction. Sexual Desire. Lust. The label holds no meaning, sweetheart. The actual effect does. So deny it all you like, but the fact remains, you want me.”

“You want me, too.”

“Did I say otherwise?”

“Why do you want me?”

“Spur of the moment.”

“Not only do you not act on impulse, but you’re also putting too much time and effort into something that’s supposedly on the spur of the moment. So allow me to call bullshit.”

His lips tug in a wolfish smirk. “Your attention to detail about me is touching.”

“I have attention to detail about everything. It’s not exclusive to you.”

“Oh?”

“Oh,” I mimic his provocative tone. “Now, tell me why you want me?”

“It’s just a physical reaction, as you mentioned. A lust for an intense hate-fuck.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

My chest squeezes, and I have no clue why the urge to bolt out of here is stronger than the need for my next breath. Still, I force myself to appear unaffected and remain in place. I force myself to stop thinking about the door he just slammed in my face.

Kingsley lazily drags his gaze over me and I squirm. Jeez. After he so brutally ripped my panties, I’m not wearing any, so no accidents should be allowed. I wrap the sweater tighter around me, and he smiles. “Take the clothes with you.”

“Of course I will, genius. You expect me to walk outside naked?”

“No, or I’ll have to deal with all the fuckers who witness the strip show in a not-so-nice way,” he says casually, as if he’s not delivering a threat. “I meant that you don’t need to return the clothes.”

“They’re Gwen’s.”

“They’re yours now. My daughter won’t be wearing that after you came in it.”

I can’t see it, but I feel my neck turning red. The bastard. I definitely and totally and without a doubt hate the shit out of him.

If I could actually not want him, it’d be great.

“Now, sit down and eat. There won’t be a third time I tell you that.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten a thing since this morning.”

“Still not hungry. Have a good night.” I take a step toward the exit, but the moment I brush past him, he grabs me by the waist.

I yelp as he pulls me back and shoves me down on his lap. Or more accurately, I’m sitting on one hard thigh, my legs spread open and my bare pussy brushing against his pants.

The temperature escalates from two digits to three of them superfast. I attempt to elbow him, but the hot breaths at my ear freeze me in place.

“If you’re still horny and would like to ride my leg, go for it, but I can’t promise I won’t fuck you right afterward. Hurt or not.”

I squirm, my fists clenching on either side of me. “Let me go, Kingsley.”

“Not until you eat.” He jerks his chin at the bowl of soup and the plate of shrimp in front of me. “All of that.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then your stubbornness and I can stay here all night. You’ll eventually either eat, hump my leg, or both.”

“You…”

“Bastard, jerk, asshole, dick. I know the tune, and it won’t serve any purpose aside from pissing me off, so unless you want to witness a hideous manifestation of those emotions, save it.”

I cross my arms over my chest, staring at him behind me. “Let’s stay like this then and see how you’ll function tomorrow at work when you’re sleep-deprived.”

“That mouth of yours is begging to be fucked, sweetheart.”

I purse my lips so that I don’t speak. Anything I have to say under the circumstances will just backfire.

While I don’t back down from anything, the sexual department with Kingsley is not my forte. He’s the only man I can’t even think about snatching power from and while it’s infuriating, it’s oddly thrilling, too.

And I hate that.

And him.

He cages me between his arms and reaches for the soup and proceeds to eat without any problem.

I stare at the hanging chandeliers and the wall, the door, the windows. Anywhere but at him, but that still doesn’t dissipate the tension. If anything, it heightens with each passing second until I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears. His heat beneath me and behind me makes it hard to think, breathe, or focus.

Something warm is placed at my lips. A spoon filled with shrimp and rice. “Stop being fucking stubborn and open up.”

I huff but don’t follow his command.

“You’re an infuriating woman. Did you know that?”

“Funny coming from an infuriating man—” He shoves the spoon inside and I have no choice but to swallow or choke.

“That’s not fair!” I speak, covering my mouth with the back of my hand so he doesn’t make me eat another spoonful.

“Tough shit, sweetheart. Fair and I have nothing in common. Now, open that mouth and eat.”

I shake my head.

He narrows his eyes. “Do you have some sort of an eating disorder? Now that I think about it, I only see you drinking things—coffee, alcohol. Lots of alcohol. Wait a fucking second, are you an alcoholic?”

“Shut up. And seriously, why the hell are you so focused on me lately? I liked it better when you didn’t give a fuck about me.”

He remains silent, and I curse myself.

I didn’t exactly mean to ask the question, but now that it’s out in the open, I want an answer. But at the same time, a part of me is terrified of the answer.

“I still give zero fucks about you aside from the fact that I want in your pants, and for that, you need to be healthy enough to handle me.”

My ears catch fire and I don’t know if it’s anger or something entirely different. “I’m not one of your whores, Kingsley. You don’t get to tell me what to do with my body. If you want that, go to them.”

“They’re escorts, not whores. And I’ll go to them once I’m done with you.”

I can feel the volcano rising in my throat and I seriously imagine chewing his head off slasher movie style.

But then he says, “How about a trade?”

“If it’s not your life for humanity’s peace, I’m not interested.”

He chuckles and I hate how the sound vibrates against my neck and penetrates my skin.

“I’m too precious to sacrifice myself for something as dull as humanity. So how about I answer any question you have about Gwen, and in exchange, you’ll finish this plate?”

I was so ready to tell him to go fuck a pole. But the bastard went straight for the jugular. He knows how desperate I am for some semblance of a relationship with Gwen, even if I have to sell my soul to the devil—him—for it.

“Not one question. I want an infinite number.”

“That’s not how it works. One question for one meal.”

“Three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“One. If you want more, then you need to join me for dinner some other time.”

“You’re a cunning asshole.” I sigh.

“Thanks for the compliment, witch. Now, open your mouth.”

I try to take the spoon. “I can eat on my own.”

He keeps it out of reach and tuts. “My table. My rules.”

I release a breath and open my mouth, feeling weird. Like a child, but also so utterly turned on, it should be illegal. Part of the desire has to do with the fact that someone is taking care of me, enveloping me, and providing a protection I haven’t dreamt of. And somehow, that spurs a strange type of lust I haven’t experienced before.

Briefly closing my eyes, I think of Gwen and that makes the sensation slowly wither away.

“Does she ever ask about me?” My voice is low in the silence of the dining room.

Kingsley keeps feeding me steadily, his expression blank, but it’s not the anger blank he uses to camouflage his demons. This one is more neutral like when he’s in a static state—which is rare as hell.

“She did a few days ago. Said hi again and asked me if I’m giving you a hard time.”

“You…never told me that.”

“You were undergoing ‘Operation Avoid Kingsley,’ so I didn’t think you cared enough about whatever Gwen had to tell me about you.”

I hang my head. “You could’ve still told me.”

“The keyword being could’ve. Besides, what would that change? Unless you go on the offensive with her, Gwen will never consider you a mother.”

“Offensive?”

“It means to go for it. Be proactive. Don’t wait for her to eventually come to you. That might’ve been possible a few years—hell, even a few months ago—but she’s more emotionally stable now, thanks to a certain fucker that shall not be named and, therefore, she probably doesn’t feel the need for a mother like she did before.”

My lips part. “Did you just give me advice about Gwen? I thought you wanted me out of her life.”

“I still would kick you out if that were an option, but then again, I care about her more than anything else in the world, so if she wants you, I can’t simply erase you or Nate. Though my murderous plans for the bastard are still alive and functioning.”

I laugh.

He narrows his eyes. “What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing. You just sounded like a very strict parent.”

“I am a very strict parent, which is why I can’t believe I let her marry Nate. Think an annulment would be possible now?”

“I’m afraid not, unless you want to be Nate’s subject of how to get away with murder. Seriously, I don’t understand why you approach him so much about it. They’re both adults in love.”

“He’s the more adult one and shouldn’t have looked in my fucking daughter’s direction. You haven’t been there, so you don’t know the feeling of finding out your ‘brother’ who was supposed to have your back was fucking your daughter under your damn roof.”

“Touché, asshole.” I push him away and stand up, surprised to see that I ate almost everything in the bowl. “But for the thousandth time, I didn’t know she existed. Stop blaming me for the lost twenty years.”

I’m blaming myself enough as it is.

“I’d have to give a fuck to blame you, and as I mentioned, I don’t have any.”

“Fuck you, Kingsley.”

“Very soon. And I’ll start with that mouth.”

“Better revise your will, because I’ll bite your dick off.” I flip him the middle finger and walk out, resisting the urge to run as if my ass is on fire.

His evil laughter stays with me long after I’m out of his house.

It isn’t until the cold air licks my skin that I realize I left my wallet and phone inside—or I’m hoping I did because I haven’t seen them this entire night. I’m sure I picked them up from the alley and paid the taxi driver, though.

“Want a ride?”

I release a resigned sigh as I turn around and find Kingsley toying with his car keys and clutching my phone and wallet. “I can take a taxi.”

“None comes out this far, so you’ll have to walk for a long time.”

“I’ll call one.”

“Or you can quit the war for the sake of war and let me give you a fucking ride.”

He doesn’t allow me to protest as he grabs my arm and drags me to his car.

I try not to feel grateful, I really do.

But I fail miserably anyway.