Reign of a King: Chapter 22

“I’ll always be here.”

Those words trickle in and out of my consciousness. Like a shadow you can see, but you can’t touch.

By the time I open my eyes, I don’t know whether what I’m seeing is real or a mere play of my screwed up imagination.

The first thing I notice is that I’m not in my flat lying on the floor, reliving my gruesome memories.

My room in Jonathan’s house comes into view with its huge space and elegant ceiling. When did I get in here?

“You need to eat.”

I startle into a sitting position and that’s when I notice Jonathan seated on a chair opposite my bed.

He’s in a pair of dark blue suit trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the taut lines of his collarbone and hinting at his chest muscles.

That’s the most skin I’ve ever seen from Jonathan, aside from his veiny arms. It’s like he lives in a suit — or was born in one.

Not that he had to get nude before, all he needs is that firm hand to make me fall all over the place.

He’s been focused on his phone, but now, he slides it in his pocket and lifts a bowl of soup from a tray on the bedside table.

“You brought me here?”

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?”

Did he listen to Alicia’s voice message? Worse, did he see me at my lowest on the floor?

“How…how did you get access to my flat?”

“I have my ways.” He offers me the bowl. “Now, eat. You haven’t had anything since this morning and it’s nine in the evening.”

How the hell does he know that? I don’t bother asking, because he’ll just say he has his ways again or bluntly ignore me.

My nose scrunches at the scent of food. “I’m not hungry.”

If anything, nausea is about to hit me for no apparent reason.

“Is this part of your rebirth? Skipping meals?”

“So what if it is?”

“You cannot escape Maxim by stopping everything you used to do when you were with him. You do realise you’re only fooling yourself, right?”

My nails sink into the duvet as black rage bubbles in my stomach. “You know nothing about me to say that, okay? Nothing! And I told you not to say his name.”

“There, clear evidence that your rebirth never took off. If you’re a mess after a meeting with his solicitor, how do you intend on facing him when he resurfaces? Because he will resurface, Aurora. If it’s not with parole, then it’ll be with something else. People like Maxim don’t like to be pushed to the shadows. He’ll steal the limelight and he’ll come after you. So instead of running away from the ghost of his name, get your shit together. Flight mode never works, so you might want to start trying the fight mode.”

My lips part as the weight of his words strikes a deep, dark corner in my chest. It’s almost like he was with me during the years I looked over my shoulder, expecting the ghost of my past to catch up to me.

In fact, I still do. It’s a curse without a solution.

Some of my nightmares are about vacant eyes, but most of them are about me pedalling down that road and I always, always get pulled back into the forest’s clutches by a dark hand.

“Now, are you going to eat or would you rather I make you?”

I snatch the bowl from between his fingers and don’t bother with a spoon. I drink it all in one go as if I’m chugging down alcohol.

Once I’m finished, I slam the empty bowl on the bedside table and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “There. Done, your majesty. Leave me alone.”

“What did I say about that mouth, Aurora?”

“What are you going to do about it? Fuck me? Oh, wait. You only like to spank and finger me.”

His expression shifts from disapproval to what seems like…amusement? “Does that bother you so much?”

My cheeks heat. “It does not.”

“If it didn’t, you wouldn’t have mentioned it in an angry fit.”

“You flatter yourself.”

“Is that so?”

“I absolutely couldn’t give two fucks about that.”

“Fascinating.” He stands up and I expect him to leave, but he unbuttons his shirt, slowly and with utter confidence.

“W-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He shrugs off his shirt and the urge to hide under the covers hits me without a warning.

Since I’ve never seen Jonathan naked, I don’t know what to expect, but the firm chest with lean muscles is certainly not it. Who knew the prim and proper suits covered this view? But then again, Jonathan has always had rugged, brutal characteristics. Why would his nudity be any different?

He’s so fit and well-built for his age. His skin is sun-kissed and honed to perfection. Almost as if God took extra care when he was proportioning him.

His fingers undo his belt and while I should look away, I don’t. I’m glued to the unapologetic masculine beauty that is Jonathan King.

He slides his trousers down firm thighs, leaving him in black boxer briefs, and takes his time setting his clothes on the chair. It’s almost like he’s teasing me on purpose.

My spine snaps upright, and my toes curl underneath the sheet in anticipation of what’s coming next. By the time he removes his boxer briefs, I’m ready to hide for real, for a different reason from earlier.

Holy. Shit.

His cock isn’t only hard and thick, but it’s also massive. No kidding, I’ve seen my fair share, but Jonathan wins the crown. Literally.

Oh God, does he expect to fit that thing in me or something? Even though being aroused is no longer a foreign concept to me, I don’t think I could ever take him inside me.

Not in this lifetime, at least.

“Do you like what you see?”

I shake my head frantically, and I mean it. I might be in awe at his size, but I want to continue being in this phase while staying far apart.

Then why the hell are my thighs clenching?

Jonathan smiles, and the motion reaches his dark, stormy eyes, lightening them a bit.

Woah. I didn’t know he could smile, let alone do it so lethally.

That smile could kill. It’s not only the beauty in it. No. It’s the sheer promise it carries.

“The reason I didn’t fuck you is because I needed to get you ready, but since you want it so bad…”

“I don’t.” I meant for my voice to be firm, but it’s similar to a moan.

What the hell is wrong with me? Do I…want this?

Before I can figure out an answer, Jonathan yanks the cover away. Now I have no defence line. Without his tailored clothes that somehow tame his raw self, he appears like the roguish predator he actually is. The slight stubble on his jaw gains a dark shadow within seconds.

He crawls atop me and undoes the buttons of my blouse, as slowly as he did his and with the same level of confidence.

It falls from my shoulder, exposing my black satin bra. Jonathan’s fingers trail over the material, eliciting a shudder at the base of my spine.

“Next time, I want red. Like that lipstick.” He snaps it open, pulls it off me, and throws it beside us.

I’m breathing so harshly, I’m surprised he doesn’t notice. Every inch of my skin is attuned to his touch, and my entire body is homed in on his presence.

I take in his woodsy scent with every inhale and purge some of my inhibition with every exhale.

Somewhere in my mind, I recognise this is wrong, but I can’t think of the reasons why right now. They’re trapped, unreachable. Almost invisible.

He unbuttons my trousers and slides them down my legs, then throws them on top of the pile of clothes.

We sit opposite each other, completely naked. Or more like I’m sitting while he hovers over me like a dark promise in the middle of a moonless night.

“You’re now the property of Jonathan King, wild one.”

“I’m no one’s property.”

He narrows one of his eyes. “If you have nothing useful to say, shut that mouth.”

“I mean it. I might have agreed to this deal, but you don’t own me, Jonathan. No one does and no one ever will.”

He grabs me by the hips and flips me over. I yelp as my front hits the mattress and he lifts my arse up in the air.

“I was going to give you what you crave and fuck you, but I changed my mind.”

“W-what?”

His hand slaps my arse. Hard. I moan into the pillow, my voice wanton, even to my own ears.

“You’ll beg for it.”

“Screw you, Jonathan.”

He spanks me again, this time circling a finger on my slick folds until a whimper escapes my throat. “Add a please and I might.”

Ugh. Damn him.

His length slides up and down my wetness, slow and unhurried. The sheer confidence he exudes with his movements turn me into a puddle. My nails dig into the sheets, trying to find refuge in Jonathan, and failing miserably.

His assault continues, getting more ruthless by the second. The crown of his cock aligns with my entrance and I tense with anticipation, but he removes it all too soon.

He thumbs my clit just to back off.

He spanks me just to push me into the highest throes of lust.

The small bursts of excitement, arousal, and then disappointment hit me over and over again. I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life. It’s torture in its deadliest form and all I want is more.

“I hate you,” I mutter.

“But your cunt wants me.” He glides his cock up and down my folds, teasing. “See how much it’s soaking wet for me? I didn’t even inflict any pain.”

“Jonathan…” I whimper.

“Say the words, Aurora.”

“I…ugh…”

“Those aren’t it. Try again.”

“J-just do it.”

“Not quite there.”

“Fuck me, you arsehole.”

“And?”

“P-please —” the word catches in my throat as Jonathan thrusts inside me in one brutal go. Just like everything about him.

Holy…

My body bucks off the bed as he fills me in a way I never thought I could be filled. The stretching sensation leaves stinging pain that hurts so good. Our bodies aren’t only joined, they’re so absorbed in one another as if falling into an unknown dimension.

“Fuck.” His long, masculine fingers with perfectly manicured nails savagely grip me by my hip. It feels so bare and weak under his grip. So vulnerable. That hand can bring me so much pleasure, but its price is always pain.

“Do you feel how your tight cunt traps me inside? It’s made for me.”

I want to tell him to shut up, but I can’t speak. Besides, his dirty words tighten my nipples even more, which is almost impossible, considering they were already hard.

Jonathan pounds into me slow at first, rocking his hips in moderate circles. Then just when I get used to the rhythm, he picks up his pace.

It’s so relentless that my body physically slides on the mattress. I soak in every thrust and every jerk of his hips.

Something inside me unlocks and a needy moan rips in the air. That’s when I realise it’s mine.

Jonathan wraps a fistful of my hair around his hand and pulls me up by it so that the slick warmth of his chest covers my back. The position is uncomfortable, but the angle of his cock gets deeper, hitting that most pleasurable spot inside me.

“Oh…oh…t-there…there…”

“Here?” He does it again and I nod frantically.

He slaps my arse, then reaches out with the same hand and closes it around my throat. “As much as you say you hate me, your body unravels around me, Aurora. This body is my fucking property.”

I don’t have the energy or time to answer as I’m shocked into an orgasm, instinctively screaming out his name. It’s so different from the other ones. This one goes on and on, and I feel like I’m going to faint or something.

Do people ever faint during sex?

Jonathan’s grunt fills the air as he pulls out of me and comes all over my arse.

The hot liquid burns a little against the sting of his handprint on my flesh. I bite my lower lip, relishing the sensation.

Is it supposed to feel as if I’ve ascended out of my body and have just now come back?

This must be what it means to be fucked.

Literally.

Figuratively.

When I think Jonathan will release me, he pulls me up by the hair, his hand still caging my throat, and whispers hot, sinister words at my ear, “The only reason you haven’t been owned before is because I hadn’t come along yet.”