The Never King (Vicious Lost Boys #1)(16)

Why the hell am I so aroused by this?

The girl starts choking on him, but he doesn’t give in.

I am entranced by him, by the thrusting of his hips and the glint of the moonlight on his dark hair, the straight dark lines of his tattoos and— My bedroom door bangs open. A dark figure stalks in, grabs my chain and yanks me back. I lose my footing, stumble. Bash catches me and wraps a hand around my throat.

“What did you say to him, Darling?”

“What? I didn’t—”

“I know my brother. He’s my other half, after all.”

There’s just enough moonlight pouring through my windows to see the hard scowl on Bash’s face. They may be identical, but Bash’s edges are sharper.

He must be the older of the two, Kas’s protector even though I doubt he needs protecting.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Bash’s grip on me tightens. “All of you fucking Darlings are the same. You act innocent, like you’re the victims—”

“We are!”

He snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“You kidnapped me. I don’t want to be here!”

He swings me around and presses me against the wall. The air is knocked out of me.

“You think we want you here?” he says. “You think this is fun for us? Watching Pan slowly die right in front of our eyes? Feeling the island revolt as if it wants to spit us out? You think we asked for the Darlings to—”

He cuts himself off and takes in a long, deep breath, nostrils flaring.

“Pan is dying?” I say.

He scowls and his eye twitches.

“Why is he dying?”

He removes his hand from my throat, but it lingers on my shoulder, his thumb pressing at the valley between my collarbones.

I’m still ignited after watching his brother fuck some girl’s mouth.

My heart is racing in my chest.

Bash meets my eyes and he narrows his.

His breathing quickens and I realize I made a mistake trying to get to Kas first. I thought he would be the one because he was the nicest. But that’s exactly the reason he wouldn’t touch me. Not first, anyway.

Starla, I think, I’ll make you proud.

You fuck the one that’s good and ready, she’d say.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve used my body to get what I want.

I let out a breathy little moan and Bash clenches his teeth together, presses closer. I can feel his cock hard against my thigh.

I push my hips forward, rock against him.

He growls.

Bash will fuck me.

I’m sure of it now.

And when he does, Kas will be pissed and Pan will be pissed and I’m not sure what Vane will do.

But I will have set something in motion.

Channeling my inner Starla, I reach between us and grope Bash and his nostrils flare as a rumble sounds deep in his chest.

I stroke him through his pants.

“Darling,” he says, “you’re playing with fire.”

“Am I?”

His hand slides back up my throat as his teeth grit together.

I bring my hand up and steal in beneath the waistband of his pants. When I feel the heat of his cock, the head swells and I drag my thumb over the slit.

“Fuck it,” he says and spins us around, sitting himself on the edge of the bed, me on his lap.

He has himself out before I can take a breath and then he’s tearing my panties aside and shoving into me.

“Bounce on my cock, Darling,” he orders and the triumph nearly escapes me in a high-pitched squeal.

I seat my knees on the bed, wrap my arms around him and slide him out, then back in. His grip is hard on my hips, driving me down on him. “Fuck. This is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

He throbs inside of me.

I yank off his shirt.

If I’m going to use my body to get what I want, then I at least want to admire what I’m taking in return.

Bash is corded in muscle, covered in those deliberate dark lines. His abs constrict as he shoves into me.

“Fuck, Darling. Fucking hell. Pan is going to kill me.”

He yanks down the collar of my dress, pulls my breast out and captures my nipple in his mouth. He bites at me. I yelp and jolt against him, but he tightens his hold on me.

Rocking my clit against him, my pleasure builds.

I’m fucking a Lost Boy.

I have a plan.

I’m going to get out of here and then—

I feel Peter Pan before I see him.

And when he walks in the room, Bash immediately goes still beneath me.

I see the flick of a lighter first, the flame dancing in the darkness, burning the end of the cigarette in his mouth.

Bash throbs deep inside of me.

Pan snaps the lighter shut with a definitive clack, then takes a pull on the cigarette, the bright ember burning neon orange.

When he exhales smoke, he says, “Don’t stop on my account.”

He comes into the room, sitting in the wingback chair behind me.

Bash exhales, almost a sigh. He’s still hard, still buried in me, but he doesn’t move.

“Go on,” Pan says. “Fuck her.”

“Pan…I didn’t—”

“Fuck her, Bash. Do it now.”