A Royal Pain (Montrovia Royals Book 1)

by Kit Kyndall

  I turned and exited her room without looking at Dirk, my stomach still tied in knots from the conversation with my mom.

  I was halfway down the landing when he called out to me. I froze, part of me urging my feet to continue on and ignore him, while the other part of me wanted to know what Dirk had to say. Slowly, I turned to face him, determined not to betray any reaction.

  ***

  I was boiling with rage, and the home gym they had was an inadequate receptacle for the emotion. There was a simple punching bag, certainly not a kick bag, and I was wailing on it, but it was doing very little to make me feel better. His words still played in my mind, but I couldn’t bear to remember them again. He was a sick, disgusting fucker, and I couldn’t wait to get away from here. Right then, I would have happily packed my things and driven away without looking back, if not for Mom. And for Mia.

  In my anger, I missed the bag and ended up hitting the post from which it was suspended instead. Pain flared in my knuckles, but it felt good in a bad way or bad in a good way. I couldn’t decide as I did it again and again, uncaring about the torn skin or the possibility of breaking my hands. Nothing mattered except the brief release of emotional pain with the physical outlet of agony.

  “Paxton?”

  The sound of my name on her tongue was a cold douse of ice water, and I froze. Unfortunately, the rage still churned in me, and denied the outlet of hitting my hands against the wooden beam, it swelled and threatened to choke me. It had been a long time since I’d felt this out-of-control, and I knew I was breathing irregularly. I felt like a bit like a raging bull, and when I turned to face her, it wasn’t lost on me that she wore a red halter dress. I couldn’t seem to make coherent sounds, so I just stared at her as she came closer.

  She wore a look of concern, and when she reached for my hand, I flinched and pulled away. She put up her hands in a nonthreatening gesture, and the rational part of me realized I was scaring her since I was so out of control. I didn’t want to alarm her, so I tried to submit to her gentle touch when she took my hand again, this time holding it in hers as she examined the self-inflicted collection of wounds.

  She drew in an uneven breath, and I could see the confusion in her eyes. She’d never understand why I had been mutilating myself. In her little ivory tower world, she’d probably never felt the kind of pain and rage that coursed through me, so she couldn’t understand how cathartic physical pain could be sometimes. It was easier to feel an outward pain than the kind that ate deep into your soul.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Such a simple question, but there was no easy answer. I pulled my hand away and turned my back to her, keeping my attention focused on the punching bag. I started hitting it again, this time making a conscious effort to strike vinyl rather than the wooden post that was stained with my blood. I knew as soon as she was gone, I would probably return to hitting the post though.

  “Paxton, please talk to me. How can I help you?” She put a gentle hand on my shoulder as she asked.

  I shivered at the touch of her hand, her palm smooth against my bare shoulder. I had stripped down to just jeans and boxers before I started punching the bag.

  To my surprise, desire coursed through me like a raging inferno, and it mixed with the rage into some kind of combination I had never experienced. Right then, if I could have somehow managed to keep hitting the bag while fucking it, I might’ve found a way to soothe the mix of emotions inside.

  “Just go away, Mia. No one can help me.”

  “No.”

  She came to stand beside me, her body pressed lightly to mine, and I was aware of the softness of her breasts against my bicep. I wanted to turn and rip the dress from her, to sink my cock into her as I took her hard and rough. It scared me, and I hit the bag harder, once again missing and slamming my hand into the wood. It provided a way to balance me and gave me a focal point for the rage, so I did it again.

  “Please stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself badly.”

  I breathed harshly, trying to control myself. I had forgotten how this kind of helpless rage made me feel. Never before had I had such an easy target either, and I didn’t mean the punching bag. I didn’t want to say something that would hurt her, or do something horrible, so I tried to keep my voice cold and mean to encourage her to go away. “Get out and leave me the fuck alone. You don’t want to deal with me right now, so let me use this punching bag however I see fit until I have some control.”

  There was a brief hesitation, and then she moved closer, putting her arm around my waist, her hand on my hip. “Let me help you.”

  “You can’t. Just let me do what I need to and get away from me.”

  There was another brief hesitation, and then she uttered words that sent a stark chill down my spine. “Use me instead.”

  In shock, I froze before whirling around to face her. My hands were bare, unprotected by gloves of any kind, or any wrap, so her smooth flesh yielded easily to the fingers I clamped around her upper arms. I couldn’t help it, and I shook her lightly. “You have no idea what you’re playing with here. I’m trying to do the right thing, not to scare you or hurt you. Just get the fuck out.”

  I saw her shoulders square, and her chin tilted up. Determination flashed in her eyes, and she put her hands on my chest. “Use me,” she said again. “I’ll do whatever you want, or whatever you need, but please stop hurting yourself.”

  I should have pushed her away, and I should’ve persisted in sending her away, but I’m a no-good dirty bastard. Instead of doing the right thing, I tangled my bleeding hands in her long hair, pulled her head back roughly, and slammed my mouth over hers. I wanted to make her hurt so I wouldn’t hurt as much, and though it was the worst crime I could think of, I couldn’t stop as I kissed her hard and rough.

  ***

  Mia

  What had I done? As his mouth ravished mine, somewhere between pleasure and pain, I asked myself that question. Part of me wanted to pull away and leave the gym, to run away and forget what I had seen. But another part of me, the part that was already caring for Paxton way more than I should, couldn’t leave him in this raw state of rage to hurt himself. It had been a natural, almost easy, offer to take on his pain.

  I was frightened, but not of Paxton. Even in this state, I didn’t think he would really hurt me, though I’d probably have some bruises in the morning. I was actually more afraid of the raw lust he was unleashing in me, a complete lack of control I had never experienced before. I liked the way he pulled my hair, and when his teeth grazed my lips, I enjoyed the flash of pain. I didn’t think I was a masochist, and I didn’t think he was a sadist. There were no easy labels. We were just two people clinging to each other, coping as best we could.

  He trailed a string of biting kisses from my mouth down my jawline and across my neck. He nipped hard at the bend of my neck, where the skin was so sensitive, and I yelped. In retaliation, I tugged sharply on his hair as I wound my fingers through it.

  His mouth gentled slightly, and while he was still rough, there were certainly more pleasure than pain now.

  I couldn’t help a small gasp of shock when his hands tore at my favorite red dress, reducing it to shreds of material on the floor in seconds. As usual, I hadn’t worn a bra, and he made a sound of delight at the discovery.

  I cried out in surprise when he suddenly lifted me, but I wrapped my thighs around his waist as he carried me to the yoga mat in the corner. He dropped me a little less than gently, and the impact jarred my body, but he was soon atop me to soothe any discomfort. His mouth went to my breast, tongue and teeth devouring my nipple, making me cry out. I couldn’t completely decide if I liked it or hated it, and I assumed it was some strange combination of the two. It certainly sent intense shudders through my body.

  My nipples were so sensitive by the time he finished torturing both that I figured one more gentle flick of his tongue across the tip of either would make me come. He pulled away to shed his jeans and boxers, tossing them whe
re he’d left his shoes and shirt. I had seen them on my way in. A second later, he was back between my legs, splaying my thighs wide so he could stare down at my core.

  My panties were gone in a flash, the rending sound of fabric filling the air. If I was going to continue to fuck Paxton, I was going to need a new wardrobe, I thought with a flash of amusement. Thus far, he had managed to rip off every stitch of clothing I’d worn around him both times we’d had sex. Not counting the shower, because I had worn nothing then.

  He went to my breasts again, avoiding the nipples this time. He bit me hard enough to make me yelp again, and he lifted his head. When I looked into his eyes, I could see some of that mindless rage had faded, and he looked remorseful.

  “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  I lifted my hands, stretching to touch his shoulder as he started to sit up. “It’s okay. I told you to use me however you need. I just want you to feel better, and I can’t deny most of it’s feeling pretty good.”

  His eyes widened, and he seemed disbelieving of my claim. I arched my hips and wiggled my butt. “Go ahead. See for yourself how turned on I am.” I was a little embarrassed by the admission, but I sensed if I let him pull away now, it would only make his problem—whatever it was—that much worse. He’d add a heaping dose of guilt for what he’d done to me, though I had been completely willing and had made the offer.

  Hesitantly, his hand moved between my legs, fingers trailing down my slit. His exquisite gentleness was such a contrast to his roughness of a few moments ago, and surprisingly, I found myself wishing for the rougher lover again. I was in the mood for that kind of sex—the biting, scratching, hair-pulling kind.

  He sighed softly when his fingers glided easily into me, my sheath contracting to draw him in greedily. Even two of his large fingers were no match for the cock waiting between his legs, and I wanted it desperately. I scooted up and around, until I was kneeling in front of him. I wrapped my hand around his erection, and when he would have pulled away, I tightened my hold and deliberately pressed my fingernails lightly into his tender skin.

  His breath hissed between his teeth, and though he had clearly found it uncomfortable, his eyes closed partially in his pleasure. I didn’t pretend to understand why pain would give him pleasure, and I didn’t understand why it had done the same for me. Right then I didn’t give a shit about analyzing the whys or wherefores.

  To my surprise, he didn’t resist when I pushed his shoulder to urge him to lie down. He did, his hands balled into fists. I could sense the tension in him, and I knew he was barely hanging on by a thread. I didn’t know if it would be better to help him regain his control or push him over the edge into letting loose completely for a little while.

  I didn’t know how to help him, because I didn’t know what was wrong, so I just surrendered to instinct. Leaning forward, I took as much of his cock into my mouth as I could and sucked forcefully, hollowing out my cheeks as I bobbed up and down his smooth shaft.

  As he gradually relaxed, hands loosening, I increased the friction and gently grazed him with my teeth. He jumped, and his hands balled again, but not as tightly this time. I continued to tease him, licking and sucking, but not bringing him to release. I knew I was pushing him, but it felt like the right thing to do.

  I guess I needed to know how much control he really had, even when he was out of control, and I figured maybe he needed to know the same thing.

  Abruptly, he switched our positions, so I was pinned underneath him. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes flashed, looking wild and animal-like. Desire heated my belly, moving lower, and I wanted him to take me as he completely lost control. Sensing he might need permission to do that, I said, “I meant it.”

  “What?” He asked the question in a growl, as his fingers delved between my folds to play with my clit.

  I arched my hips under the stimulation, even as I tried to focus on the conversation. “I meant you could do anything you want to me. I’m giving you permission. However you want to have me, or take me, I’m okay with it. If it gets to be too much, I’ll let you know.” I cupped his face in my hands, forcing his gaze to me. “I trust you to stop if I say so.”

  I could see his tension vanishing slightly, and some of the animal passion faded from his eyes, but not all of it. He was unrestrained, but within the bounds of his own control. It sounded confusing, even to myself, but I knew he was surrendering to some dark energy he needed to get out. I was still safe, and he would never truly hurt me. I completely believed if I told him to stop, he would immediately.

  With wild ferocity, he kissed, sucked, and bit my body, leaving me writhing helplessly under the onslaught. It felt so good, especially when his mouth sought out the heart of me, teeth biting gently on my clit before his tongue surged deep inside me, almost stabbing me with the appendage.

  It was rough, and it should have hurt, and I suppose it did a little, but the slight edge of pain only enhanced the pleasure. He parted my legs as wide as they would go, until I could feel the burn in my hip muscles. I didn’t try to resist, because I didn’t want to. He pushed one of my legs up, pressing my knee against my shoulder and bracing the back of my ankle on his shoulder.

  I felt almost more stretched than I had last night, with my hands confined to the bed. Last night though, my ankles and feet had been free. Today, one was trapped under him, and the other was on him, with his hand holding me securely. I couldn’t have gotten away if I’d wanted to. There was something deliciously gratifying about knowing I was completely at his mercy—I guess because I knew he had mercy.

  He lifted my pelvis higher just by maneuvering my legs, and then his cock slammed into me. It hurt to the point where my eyes welled with tears, but it also felt amazing. By his third thrust in, I was accustomed to it again, and the pain had faded except for a dull ache that I knew would have been there no matter how gently he had taken me. It was just residual soreness from last night and this morning. I’d had more sex in the past two days than in the past year, and I’d never had sex like this before.

  Paxton thundered in and out of me, clearly seeking something, and I didn’t know if it was simply physical release, or if he sought something else. All I could do was hang on for the ride, literally and figuratively. I clutched his back, my nails digging into his skin. I knew I was scratching him, especially the harder he went, and the harder I pushed to meet each of his thrusts. There was something primal about raking my nails down his back, leaving my mark on him, and I couldn’t stop myself.

  He shifted our positions again. Somehow, he managed to make it so he was taking me even deeper, going so deep inside me I was almost surprised I didn’t choke on his cock at the back of my throat. I’d never had someone fuck me so thoroughly, and I completely surrendered to it. I felt like he owned me, and I reveled in the sensation as our thrusts became harder still. Our rhythm had disintegrated to wild thrashing, as we both sought release, and I could feel my orgasm approaching. His cock was twitching inside me, and he must be near release too. I clung to him, digging my fingers into his back as his fingertips pressed deeply into the flesh of my ass.

  With a mingled cry, both of us making nearly the same sound, we came together. It was a new experience to orgasm at the same time as a lover, but I couldn’t imagine this kind of sex ending any other way. My heart raced, and intense pleasure filled me, obliterating any of the slight discomfort of which I had been aware before. The bite of his fingers against my skin, the soreness in my slit, and my aching nipples all disappeared in a blinding flash of euphoria. I only hoped it was the same for him.

  Chapter Ten

  Paxton

  I couldn’t believe I had done that. I had taken Mia like I was a fucking animal or something. Even knowing it was consensual, and that she had seemed to want it just as much as I wanted to give it to her, I still felt sick that I had been so uncontrolled.

  In one way though, I also felt incredibly better. Perhaps I had found an even better outlet than beating
myself to a bloody pulp as I thrashed on an opponent or a kick bag.

  Her trust in me made an unfamiliar emotion well in me, causing warmth to fill my chest and making it almost difficult to breathe. She had to have trusted me, because not only had she verbalized it, but she had shown it. She had basically dared me to do my worst, completely confident that would not encompass the point where I would cross the line and hurt her.

  Guiltily, I acknowledged I probably had hurt her a few times, but she had never told me to stop. In fact, she’d seemed to get off on it as much as I had. When her pussy contracted around me at the end, drawing out the most amazing orgasm of my life, I didn’t see how she couldn’t have enjoyed the experience.

  I rolled over onto my back, wincing as I became aware of the scratch marks and the gouges in my skin. We had left our marks on each other, and for some reason, that made me grin like a damned fool.

  Thankfully, rather than be offended, a similar grin crossed her face before she burst into laughter. I couldn’t help chuckling as well, and it escalated to a full belly laugh, until we rolled together, holding each other in our mirth. I wasn’t entirely sure what we were laughing about, and I didn’t think she knew either, but it was cathartic.

  Slowly, laughter faded, until she was only hiccupping irregularly. I patted her back as she cleared away the last of hiccups, remembering how my mom used to soothe me in a similar fashion. Once she had fallen quiet, and I was no longer laughing like a loon, I asked, “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head against my chest, sending strands of her blonde hair fanning across my skin. I flinched when I saw the blood mixed into the soft tresses. I knew it came from my hands, but I still didn’t like the sight of blood on her. I could have completely lost it, and it would have been her blood, not mine.

  What the hell had I been thinking? As quickly as that, my mood threatened to nosedive from happy and almost relaxed back to darker, grimmer territory.