Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(56)

"Goddamnit, princess," King growled, fucking me with his knot at my opening, making me wild and weak all at once. "Goddamnit, I can't."

I sobbed as he pulled away, misunderstanding the words for a solitary moment. And then he was thrusting in and deeper in, the knot making its home in me easily after all his teasing of us both. We both howled, King's stomach flattening over my back, tickling me with chest hair and sticking with our sweat.

Heat flashed inside of me as he released, and I remembered vaguely about contraception and condoms, and then those thoughts evaporated as he ground against my ass. We groaned in unison, King's forehead on my shoulder.

He never stopped moving again.





I'd assumed his claim of not stopping was a little exaggerated.

But he fucked me on his desk, working his knot in me until I nearly passed out from delirious pleasure. He dragged me into his lap on his chair, bucking softly until I was too limp, stripping off Bear's shirt and teasing my breasts and nipples until they were sore. He hobbled us over to that leather couch, spread me out beneath him, and just fucking kept going. He propped me up against the back cushions, my cheek against the wall, stroked my stomach and thighs with his hands, dragged his lips over my shoulders.

Kisses. Kisses on the back of my neck. I hummed at their softness, and King purred in my ear.

The heat died out in those hours, fucked out of me at last.

I grinned at the knowledge, and then King's face appeared over mine and I realized suddenly he wasn't inside of me anymore. I blinked and stretched, shivering on the couch, my skin sticking uncomfortably to the leather.

"Drink, princess," King rasped.

He was wearing his jeans, but they weren't buckled. I hadn't gotten a good look at him before, but I helped myself now, distantly aware of how clear my vision was. His chest was broad, lines and muscles softer than Bear's but fuller than Chance's, blond curls running down to his belly button. He had scars on his skin, puckered and shining, and I wondered where they came from. The lines on his forehead dug deep, but the ones around his eyes were softer. Gray was eating up the edges of his blond hair and all through his beard. His nose was a little crooked, faintly scarred in the middle, evidence of an old injury. He stilled, watching me as I reached up and touched the spot with shaky fingers.

The plastic mouth of a water bottle touched my lips and I gasped, tilting my head and letting him soothe my parched throat.

His eyes were a deeper shade of blue than before, and the anger on his face was gone.

"I guess that's what I fucked out of you," I murmured, splashing a little water on my chin.

His brow furrowed at the declaration, but he didn't ask me what the hell I was talking about.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes trailing down and over my sprawled form.

There was sort of a gaping, hollow sensation between my legs I was electing not to examine further, and my ass was still hot from his palm, my breasts tender too.

"I've never felt so good," I said honestly.

King looked away, but not fast enough to hide the twitch of his lips in a smile.

"What about you?" I asked. I was too sex drunk to wrap my head entirely around the situation, but I knew that he'd told me to leave and I hadn't. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe my perfume had.

King let out a long sigh, capped the water bottle in silence and set it on the floor, combing one hand through his beard. His mustache was rumpled, and he smoothed it with an absent gesture of thumb and middle finger. Then he turned to me, sliding his hand under my neck, bending down to hover his face over mine.

Blue eyes flashed over mine, trailed over my nose, down to my mouth and back up again.

"Never fucking better, princess," he said solemnly. Then his mouth was on mine.

His beard was soft on my face, mouth confident as it folded over mine in a kiss, opening me up for his stroking tongue. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and his free arm scooped around my back, lifting me up to deepen the kiss. There was something in the steady confidence of him, or the almost mournful way he'd spoken, that made me want to cry.

Or maybe I was just strung out and exhausted, still hungry, overwhelmed.

King didn't relent, even as he lifted me from the couch, cradling me to his chest. He pulled away slowly, walking toward the door and into the hallway.

"Bear came looking for you while I had you facedown in the cushions," he said, and I caught the pride in the words. "Told him I'd bring you back to the nest when we were done."

Was Bear angry or pleased? I couldn't tell from King's expression and I didn't want to ask, so instead I tucked my face into his throat and breathed him in. With my back to his chest while knotted, there'd been something more animal than intimate between us. I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder, and his steps faltered.

"Will you sleep with me?" I asked.

Or had he done what he said he would? Fucked and knotted me until he was done with me.

King didn't answer at first, carrying me up the stairs with a careful steadiness, like he was trying not to jostle me in his arms.

"Somebody's gotta keep an eye on things," he said.

I tightened my hold on his shoulders as his steps slowed.

The door to Bear's room was cracked open, and King pushed it open with his bare foot.

Bear was standing inside, fully dressed, smile calm and—I suspected—carefully controlled. "Chance is cleaning up. I'm gonna sort us out a fucking buffet of food. Keep an eye on her?"