Cocky Dipshit still didn’t back down. He scoffed. “The King? Are you nuts?”
“No, I’m King Sloan and this is my bar, you dumb fuck. As of right now, you’re no longer welcome here. If you leave right now, you’ll be able to do it walking. If you don’t, you’ll be carried out. And if I ever see your goddamned ugly face again, I’ll fuck it up so bad that even your momma won’t be able to look at you.”
I couldn’t see the guy’s reaction because King was so much taller than me, but I could feel the way the air changed. Fear. I wondered if King was wearing that scary expression on his face and if Cocky Dipshit was going to crap his pants.
King’s body stayed rigid, but I heard footsteps moving away from us. Sensing the idiot was gone, I stepped back, putting space between King and I. He whirled on me and I saw for myself that his face was terrifying. It was even scarier than the look he gave me the night we met for the first time.
“Not a fucking word,” he rumbled, grabbing my hand and yanking me down the hall.
I had to jog in my heeled boots to keep up with him, thankful that my pencil skirt had a zip up the front, which I’d left open to a couple of inches above my knee. He led me straight to the alcove where Justin kissed me the first night we met, unlocked the door, and shoved me inside.
I was so surprised at what I saw that I didn’t even resist as he all but carried me over to a huge micro suede couch and sat my ass down on it.
It was an office, but not like any I’d been in before. The walls were dark red and all the furniture and flooring were black. It wasn’t lit with the overhead florescent lights, but by numerous lamps. One on his desk, another on the table by the couch, and a floor lamp in the corner across the room. A window was on the far wall, covered by black wooden blinds with thick slats.
I gaped when I saw the monitors on the wall opposite his desk. There must have been cameras all over the place. Now I understood how he knew where to wait for me.
“Jack, it’s King. Just had a run in with a dumb fuck in the hall. I want you to make sure he leaves.”
I glanced up to find King with his back to me, speaking into a walkie-talkie.
“Yeah, boss. What’s he look like?”
“Five-ten, maybe one-eighty, with blond hair, blue eyes. He’s wearing an ugly ass blue shirt with pearl snaps, jeans, cowboy boots, and a white Stetson.” King walked to the monitors, studying them. “I see him. He’s at the end of the bar, farthest from the entrance, and fuck me, the asshole is settling in to have another beer after I told him to get the fuck out.”
“On it, boss,” the disembodied voice of Jack replied.
“Make an example,” King muttered into the walkie-talkie. “I want him to understand that I meant it when I told him he was no longer welcome in King’s.”
I blinked at him then. The name of the bar changed? King’s? The words he spoke to Cocky Dipshit came back to me and I realized that he wasn’t exaggerating or making shit up when he said this was his place. He owned it. That’s why we were in this office.
Looking around, I realized that this office suited King perfectly, dark, dangerous, and sexy as hell.
The hot, restless feeling I’d struggled with all night returned, making me want things I shouldn’t. It was time to leave.
I rose to my feet, straightening my skirt, checking to be sure that the zipper wasn’t revealing too much.
King stalked to his desk and tossed the walkie-talkie on it before turning to me. When he saw me standing, he looked me over from head to toe. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked quietly. Too quietly.
“Home,” I answered shortly, ignoring the thrill of anticipation and heat that shot up my spine. “I appreciate your help getting rid of Cocky Dipshit, but I’m sure Ashley and Katie are wondering where I am and I need to get going. I have work tomorrow.”
Without another word to me, he picked up the handset again and clicked it. “Jack, after you take out the trash, there’re two women at table fifteen. Tell them that King will be taking Jena home and that their tab is on the house.”
“No problem, boss.”
King’s eyes never left my face during this exchange. When he was done, he dropped the radio on the desk again.
“Now, you’re girls are taken care of and you and I need to have a chat.”
I straightened my shoulders. “Like I said, King, I appreciate your help but I’m leaving.”
“Sit. Your. Ass. Down. Jena,” he barked.
“Fuck you, King!” I shouted.
Suddenly he was right in front of me, no, practically on top of me, his left arm wrapping around me and pulling me tightly against his body. His right hand twisted in my hair, yanking my head back so hard it almost hurt.
I didn’t understand why, but I felt that tugging somewhere else on my body. Somewhere much lower.
“Don’t say it unless you mean it, darlin’,” he snarled.
Then he kissed me.
Chapter Five
‡
King Sloan was kissing me. And, God help me, I fucking loved it.
As soon as his mouth hit mine, the nagging ache that I’d felt between my thighs all night transformed into a burn. When his teeth nipped my bottom lip hard enough to sting, my mouth opened and he thrust his tongue inside. He tasted like whiskey and sex.
I sucked his tongue deeper into my mouth and he groaned down my throat, his left hand dipping down to cup my ass and tilting my hips closer to his. He was already hard.
My hands lifted to curve around the nape of his neck, my nails scraping his scalp as I fisted my hands in his shoulder length black hair. He groaned again, releasing my mouth and sinking his teeth into the side of my throat.
My head fell back and I moaned as his lips, teeth, and tongue, moved down my neck to my collarbone. He used his grip on my hair to tug my head farther back, arching me over his arm and exposing my throat to him.
Unable to gain control of my hands, they trailed down his back and pulled his tee free from his jeans. That was when I touched King Sloan’s skin for the first time. His flesh felt like hot silk stretched tight over thick slabs of muscle. It was addictive and I wanted more.
I dragged my nails down his back, digging hard.
“Jesus, fuck me,” King muttered against my collarbone, his fingers clutching my ass tighter.
He suddenly straightened and hauled me over to the desk. Using his grip on my hair, he turned me and bent me down over the shiny black surface.
“Hands on the desk, Jena.” When I didn’t comply quickly enough, his hand shot out and slapped the side of my thigh. “Hands on the fucking desk.”
I moved then, bracing my palms on the cool, smooth wood. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. It was the worst idea in history, but there was no way in hell I was leaving this office until King finished what he started. I needed his strength and his roughness and I was going to damn well take it from him if I could get it.
He may be an asshole, but I’d never felt as though my entire body were on fire before. I didn’t just want him to fuck me. I needed it, like I needed air or water. If he walked away now, I was sure I would die.
I bit my lip as his hands slid down either side of my hips to the hem of my skirt. He yanked it up to my waist, tucking the back edge into the waistband.
“Goddamn,” he whispered.
A gasp flew out of my mouth when I felt one of his fingers trace the waistband of my thong from hip to hip, down each cheek, and then trail up the center where the fabric disappeared between my buttocks. No man had ever touched me like that and definitely not there.
“This ass is gonna be mine, Jena. I’ll spank it if I want, and one day, I’ll fuck it, gentle at first, then harder because I have a feeling you’re gonna get off on that, darlin’.”
My back went rigid. I’d never done any of those things and I had no interest in trying them. Ever.