The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(77)

“What look?”

“The dangerous sexy one that’s possessive as all get-out.” She positioned his cock at her entrance and sank onto him in a smooth move. “The one that should scare the shit out of me and send me fleeing into the night.”

“You’re too brave to run scared, Duchess. Not from me, and not from anyone else.” He thrust up as she sank onto him again, but his position only offered him so much leverage.

It was worth it to see that look on her face. Her cocky smile that had been missing for far too long, her movements sure as she rode his cock, seeking her own pleasure. Fuck, she’s perfect.

Beautiful and strong and fucking perfect.

She circled her hips in a move that had him digging his heels into the mattress in an effort to drive into her. “Journey.”

“I like it when you say my name.” She planted a hand on his chest and leaned up to untie first one hand and then the other.

Frank kept gripping the headboard. “You sure?” This moment was too perfect to ruin because either of them wanted to push her too far, too fast.

Journey took his hands and placed them on her hips. “I want all of you, Frank. Your trust, your dominance, your strength. Give it all to me.”

His heart damn near grew ten sizes at her words. “Ride me, Duchess.”

She gripped his biceps and started moving, every sinuous roll of her hips driving them both closer to the edge. It took everything Frank had to keep still, to let her stay in the driver’s seat. He kept his grip on her hips, urging her to maintain the relentless pace that would take her exactly where she needed to go.

“God, that feels good.” Her eyes slid shut and she whimpered, her strokes becoming more irregular. Frank stroked her clit with this thumb, watching her face all the while. He wanted to see the moment she came undone, that she gave everything to him.

Journey dug her nails into his arms and cried out, her back bowing as her pussy clamped tight around his cock. It was too much and not enough, and he thrust up into her again and again, needing to follow her over the edge, to share this fucking perfect moment with her. He came with a curse and her name on his lips.

She rewarded him with a sweet smile and slumped onto his chest. Journey pulled his arms up to wrap around her back like he was her favorite blanket. “It shouldn’t be possible that the sex keeps getting better and better, but it does.”

“I know.” He kissed her temple and held her close. There was no telling what the future would bring, but they had right now and it was enough.

“Hey, Frank?”

“Yeah.”

“I really do love you. It’s not a situational thing. It’s an all-too-real thing.”

He held her tighter, never wanting to let her go. “I know, Duchess. Mine is an all-too-real thing, too.”

“Well…good.”

He grinned against her skin. “Are you hungry? I have some food stashed in the kitchen.”

“Starving.” She sat up and shook her out hair, looking like some kind of sex goddess. “Food and fucking. Frank Evans, you really do know the way to a girl’s heart.”





Chapter Twenty-Two



After a night spent in Frank’s arms, Journey woke up in his bed alone. She stretched and smiled without opening her eyes. The invisible sword might be hanging over their heads, but it was hard to be truly afraid with her body still aching from what Frank had done to it. What they’d done together.

I love Frank Evans.

He loves me.

We’re going to try to do this for real.

If they could get through their current situation, they’d actually have the time and distance to figure out if they could be together. She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. Esther was scarier than Elliott in a number of ways, but Journey didn’t freeze up at being in the same room as her grandmother. That was a battle she could fight.

It might even be one she could win.

She smiled. God, is this what hope looks like?

She tried to call Anderson, but he didn’t answer. Journey checked the clock—six in the morning—and decided against leaving a message. Instead she sent him a text. We need to give Esther an answer today. I’ll be in the office later this morning, but if you’re free earlier, let’s meet.

Satisfied she’d gotten that ball rolling, Journey called Bellamy. Despite the early hour, he sounded wide-awake when he answered. “Hey, Jo.”

“How’s Eliza doing?” It still bothered her that her sister wouldn’t let them into the room after her accident, but Journey could understand to a certain extent. That didn’t mean she was going to let the directive stop her. She’d already been a shitty enough sister without abandoning Eliza when she needed Journey the most.

He sighed. “Not good. I mean, she’s going to make close to a full recovery. The doctor is confident she’ll walk and run again, though the limits of that will be something Eliza has to figure out for herself when the time comes.” He hesitated. “Her face is bandaged up. She had close to eighty stitches on her face and shoulders alone. She’s…she’s going to scar.”

The implications settled across Journey. A scarred model was an unemployed model, even with today’s slowly advancing ideas of what beauty was. Even if she could still work, people would always compare Eliza now with Eliza before the crash. It would be hell. “Shit.” She threw the covers back and stood. Moving made it easier to think. “We’ll find a place for her. If she doesn’t want to be part of the company, then we’ll find something else.”