The King

by Tiffany Reisz

  “And you said you were on my side. We all make promises we can’t keep.”

  “King, listen. I can—”

  “How much are the Fullers paying you?” he asked again.

  She paused, went silent. She seemed to be weighing her words, weighing her options. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this coldly, bitterly angry. Not even when Marie-Laure had died. Not even then.

  “More than you are,” Sam finally said.

  “So much ‘more weight,’ right?” Kingsley asked. “All that matters to you is more money.”

  “Suits like mine are expensive,” Sam said.

  And Kingsley replied with the only two words he could force out of his tight and clenched throat.

  “You’re fired.”

  32

  September

  “WHAT’S YOUR POISON?” THE BARTENDER ASKED, AND Kingsley answered, “Bartenders.”

  Duke raised his eyebrow and Kingsley laughed. “I’m fine,” Kingsley said. “I’m not drinking tonight.” “Prowling tonight?”

  “Not that, either,” Kingsley said.

  “What can I get you, then?” Duke asked.

  “Nothing,” Kingsley answered. “You can’t get me anything.”

  Duke gave him a look of sympathy and moved on to another customer. Meanwhile Kingsley stared at the bottles of alcohol arrayed behind the bar. Bourbon, whiskey, rum, vodka and rye. He wanted to drink them all. Every single bottle. Not that it would do him any good. He’d tried drinking again, but all it gave him was a hangover. No matter how much booze he’d poured into the hole Sam had left, it never filled up.

  One good thing had come of Sam’s betrayal and defection. It had hurt Kingsley so much he knew for certain he was alive again, as alive as he’d ever been and more. Knowing she’d taken money from the Fullers to feed them information about him had left him raging in every part of his being. Raging and grieving. He had never been so angry. He had never been so hurt. He had never felt more alive and wished more that he wasn’t.

  When his parents had died, he’d been angry, hurt, griefstricken. But it had been an accident, and he’d had no one to blame.

  When Søren married Marie-Laure and she died shortly thereafter, Kingsley had felt that same trinity of emotions— anger, pain, grief. But again, no one had tried to hurt him on purpose. Søren had married Marie-Laure so the three of them could be rich and could be free. And Marie-Laure had died in her own grief, her own hurt, her own pain. She wasn’t trying to hurt him by dying. Surely not.

  But Sam…she had betrayed him with wide eyes and a cold heart. It had been no accident, no act of God, no act of fate. She’d aimed a gun at his heart and fired.

  And the hole was still there.

  Kingsley wrenched his gaze from the too-tempting bottles of alcohol and looked around. Holly was sitting on the edge of the stage with her ankles around the neck of an elderly businessman. Cassandra was draped across the laps of five happy frat boys. Eden was holding the hand of a nervous groom-tobe and led him to the back room for a private show.

  He walked away from the bar and strolled around the club. For the past five weeks he’d been coming to the Möbius almost every night, making his rounds, chatting with the girls, drinking nothing and leaving after half an hour. No one asked him why he made this nightly pilgrimage. He was the owner, so he could do whatever he wanted. But he knew why he did it, and that was bad enough.

  Michelle strolled past him and paused long enough to kiss him on the cheek. He wouldn’t have minded her company, but she was heading to the stage. Her turn to make her rent for the night.

  Waste of time. Kingsley glanced around the club once more. He needed to stop coming here, needed to get on with his life, needed to stop living in the past.

  Kingsley decided to leave and find something else to do. He hopped off his bar stool and turned to the door. He came face-to-face with a young man. He wore black jeans, a white shirt untucked and scuffed boots. He looked two parts scared and one part thrilled. But now all Kingsley noticed was his hair. His blond hair.

  “Justin?”

  “Wow,” he said. “I can’t believe you remembered my name.”

  Kingsley crooked his finger at Justin and stepped into a quiet corner of the club.

  “What are you doing here?” Kingsley asked in a low voice.

  “I left. I mean, I left everything. I had to. My parents found out.”

  “They didn’t take it well?”

  Justin didn’t speak. The look in his eyes was answer enough.

  “It’s good you left. But why are you here?” Kingsley glanced pointedly at three naked girls on the stage.

  Justin smiled sheepishly. “Honestly, I was hoping to run into you.”

  “I gave you my card.”

  “I didn’t think you really wanted me showing up at your house. But if I ran into you here…”

  Kingsley sighed.

  “Sorry,” Justin said, his face falling. “Stupid idea. It’s just, I thought about you a lot. And as I’m saying this, I realize how pathetic it sounds—hanging out in a strip club hoping someone you’re into shows up. Anyway, it’s good to see you again.”

  “I thought about you,” Kingsley said, surprised by the truth of the statement. Since that night in March, Justin had crossed his mind more than once, more than twice. It should have been a one-night stand. Rough and quick and then the goodbye, as rough and quick as the sex. But if he were honest with himself, Kingsley would have to admit he’d been worried about Justin and even a little ashamed of how he’d treated him.

  “Is it? Good to see me again, I mean?”

  Kingsley gripped the back of Justin’s neck.

  “You should have come to my house instead of coming here,” Kingsley whispered in Justin’s ear.

  “Why?”

  “It would have saved us the car trip.”

  He released Justin and strode to the door, pleased to hear the boy’s feet following right behind him. His driver opened the door for them, and he and Justin entered the Rolls.

  “Wow,” Justin said again. “Nice.”

  “You like it?”

  “Love it. I’ve never been in a Rolls Royce before.”

  “First time for everything,” Kingsley said, and even in the low light he could see a faint blush on the boy’s face.

  “Have you ever… I mean, did you ever—?”

  “Have I ever had sex in the back of a Rolls Royce?” Kingsley asked.

  “That.”

  Kingsley smiled at him.

  “Never.”

  Justin smiled back, then he laughed. And it was so good to see that smile and that laugh that Kingsley did something he hadn’t done the first time they were together.

  Kingsley kissed him.

  Kingsley kissed the outside of Justin’s mouth, his lips, along the tip of his tongue, and in and out and through him until Justin clung to Kingsley’s arms, panting from desire. Justin straddled Kingsley’s lap, and Kingsley yanked his jacket off. They couldn’t get home fast enough.

  They broke the kiss when the car arrived at the town house. Once in his bedroom, Kingsley locked the door behind them and kissed Justin again. And again. And again. He couldn’t get enough of his mouth, his trembling lips, the warmth and eagerness.

  “I should have kissed you that night,” Kingsley said as he unbuttoned Justin’s shirt. “I should have kissed you all night.”

  Kingsley stripped them both naked to the waist and pushed Justin back on to the bed. The first time had been on a hard dirty f loor. This time he would do it right.

  He held Justin by the hair and kissed his throat and collarbone. When he bit the boy’s shoulder, Justin gasped.

  “You want pain again?” Kingsley asked. Last time he’d practically forced himself on Justin. This time he would do it right.

  “Yeah, I do,” Justin said as he ran his hands up Kingsley’s bare arms. “I hurt myself sometimes. It turns me on.”

  Kingsley stared down into Justin�
�s coffee-colored eyes. He touched Justin’s pale hair, his lips, felt the pulse in his neck beating wildly. Kingsley had to will himself to calm down. He wanted this boy so much it hurt, wanted to hurt this boy so much.

  “What do you like?” Kingsley asked. “How do you want me to hurt you?”

  Justin laughed. “I get to tell you what I like?”

  Kingsley ran his hand up and down Justin’s chest. He couldn’t get enough of the boy’s smooth young skin.

  “I should have asked that night,” Kingsley said. “I wasn’t in a good place then. I’m sorry.”

  Justin raised his head and kissed Kingsley. He hoped that meant he was accepting his apology.

  “In all my fantasies,” Justin whispered, “the sex is really rough. That’s what I like.”

  “Rough sex,” Kingsley repeated. “I think I can do that.”

  He moved on top of Justin and grabbed him by the wrists, pinning him to the bed. He kissed him hard this time, brutally hard, and bit his bottom lip until he broke the skin. More bites followed. Kingsley left a trail of bruises from Justin’s ear to his bicep. Justin hadn’t been exaggerating. He gasped in obvious pleasure as Kingsley dug his fingers into his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. It felt so good to let go of all pretense of gentleness. If Justin liked it rough, Kingsley would show him rough.

  Kingsley dug his thumb into the hollow of Justin’s throat. With his free hand, Kingsley wrenched Justin’s jeans open and shoved his hand into his pants. Justin was incredibly hard, and so Kingsley stroked him hard, painfully hard. Kingsley yearned to be inside him, but he was enough of a masochist that he forced himself to wait, to hold back as long as he could.

  With a dozen vicious bites, Kingsley worked his way down Justin’s body. When Kingsley took his cock into his mouth, Justin groaned and dug his fingers into the sheets. Even now Kingsley wasn’t gentle. He made Justin gasp with the mix of pleasure and pain from the force of the sucking.

  He pulled back before Justin could come and sat up on his knees. With his foot on Justin’s hip, Kingsley kicked him onto his stomach. In seconds he’d stripped him completely naked.

  Again he gripped his hair at the nape of his neck, pinning him into place.

  “You like this, don’t you?” Kingsley asked. “Being treated like property? Being used?”

  “Yes,” Justin whispered, his mouth against the red sheets. “You want me to use you?”

  “I want you to do everything to me you want.” “You want me to fuck you?” Kingsley demanded. “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  “Fuck me. Please…”

  Kingsley heard the desperation in his voice.

  “I might make you regret asking for that.”

  “I’ll only regret what you don’t do to me,” he said. And for that sentiment alone, Kingsley decided to fuck Justin all night long.

  He moved off the bed and pulled a case from underneath it. He unlatched it and pulled out a set of heavy stainless-steel handcuffs. He took out a plug and lube. Condoms were on the bedside table. Everything he needed for a night of sin.

  Without asking permission first, Kingsley clapped the handcuffs on to Justin’s wrists and locked them behind his back. The sight of this beautiful blond twenty-year-old boy in handcuffs naked on his bed was everything he could have asked for all wrapped up in a stainless-steel bow.

  With two wet fingers, Kingsley pushed inside Justin. The boy groaned, and Kingsley smiled behind his back. He opened Justin up—first two fingers and then three. From three fingers to four. He inserted the plug to open Justin up even more. He pushed the boy on to his side and took him in his mouth again. Now he opened his pants and shoved himself into Justin’s mouth. The boy choked a little at first but soon his throat opened, and he licked and kissed Kingsley as eagerly as Kingsley sucked and licked and kissed him. Lost in the mutual pleasure, Kingsley forgot everything. He forgot why he’d gone to the Möbius tonight, forgot what he looked for there, forgot the pain of knowing he didn’t find it. He pulled back and knelt at Justin’s head. Kingsley watched while Justin, with his eyes closed, sucked him deep. He’d promised to be rough with the boy, but it was a gentle hand that ran through his pale hair and caressed his face with his fingertips.

  “Please,” Justin whispered.

  Without a word, Kingsley pushed him back on to his stomach, took the plug out of him and rolled on a condom. He entered Justin slowly, wanting to enjoy every second of sinking deep and being surrounded and held by his inner muscles. After a few strokes, Kingsley was all the way in. He gripped the boy’s shoulders and pounded into him with all his strength. He thought of nothing, remembered nothing, but felt everything. His strokes were long and aggressive, his hands relentless. And beneath him Justin moaned and breathed and begged for more.

  Kingsley bent low over him and pressed rough kisses into his shoulders and spine. Kisses and bites, bites and kisses. Pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure. This was what he lived for, what they all lived for. His climax built and Kingsley didn’t fight it. With his mouth against Justin’s ear he came in silence, which increased the intensity of the orgasm. Once the spasms passed, Kingsley stayed inside him but only long enough to take the handcuffs off. He pulled out carefully, and Justin rolled on to his back.

  “Come for me,” Kingsley ordered. “I want to watch.”

  Justin took himself in hand and stroked upward. It didn’t take long before his own semen spurted against his naked heaving chest. Kingsley was hard again from watching. After putting on a new condom, Kingsley pushed back into him and thrust again, slower this time, more carefully. Justin wrapped his arms around Kingsley’s back and they kissed. Their tongues mingled and their lips met, and for now everything was right in his world. As long as Kingsley stayed inside this boy, everything was fine.

  Kingsley stopped fucking long enough to pull the sheets down, undress completely, and settle Justin against his pillows. He wanted this erotic oblivion to last all night.

  They fucked again, slower this time. And although it scared him, the desire overrode the fear, and Kingsley let Justin inside him. Afterward, Kingsley beat Justin raw with a f logger and cane. He took pain like a professional, like he was born for it. When their need and hunger for each other was finally spent, they stood in the shower together, Justin’s back against the wall, Kingsley’s mouth on his mouth as the burning water beat down on them and the steam soothed the soreness the sex had worked on them.

  “Will you do something to me?” Justin whispered into Kingsley’s lips.

  “Anything.”

  Justin didn’t tell him. He didn’t have to. Justin knelt in the shower and offered his back to Kingsley. Not even Søren had been sadistic enough to relieve himself onto Kingsley. That made it all the more enjoyable for Kingsley to mark Justin as the hot water poured down on to both of them.

  Kingsley sent Justin to bed after the shower. He smiled at the sight of that blond head on his pillow. For the first time Kingsley realized five whole hours had passed, and he hadn’t thought once about Sam. A good sign.

  Kingsley dipped his head and kissed him on the side of the neck. Justin stirred.

  “Thank you,” Justin said, half-asleep.

  “For what?” Kingsley asked.

  “Remembering my name.”

  Kingsley felt a knot in his throat.

  “I would never forget it.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Justin said. “With my life, I mean.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. Never go home again.” “You want to work for me?” Kingsley asked. “House boy?”

  Kingsley laughed.

  “Not quite,” he said.

  “Is there any money in being kinky?” Kingsley smiled at him.

  “You would be surprised.”