The Best Of LK Vol. 1

by LK Collins

  “But he’s into the same things you are?”

  “Not really. He’s really rich and kinda conceited.”

  “Ever!” my dad scolds me, for some reason defending King like he’s his own child.

  “What? Look at this six hundred-dollar skillet he bought me.”

  “I think it was nice of him.”

  We get in my dad’s car and he says, “Well, his aunt is awesome.”

  “Yeah, it seems like you two really connected.”

  “We really did. She’s gonna bring that clock by this week for me to fix and have a look at my other things.”

  I can see the excitement in my dad’s eyes; it’s something that has been missing for a long time. I’d love for my dad to one day find someone to share his life with. As hard as it would be for both of us if he moved on, I think it’s necessary to his happiness.

  Pulling up to my place, I give my dad a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for hanging out today. Sorry again that I overslept.”

  “It’s okay sweetheart, I only want you safe and happy.”

  I hug him again and then walk up to my apartment. On the way, the bike rack catches my eye and makes me laugh. How did things go from sheer annoyance and hatred to so much fun and sexual tension?

  I set my stuff down and unwrap the skillet King bought me – it really is gorgeous, probably my favorite one to date. Leaving it as is, I hang it from my pan rack on the ceiling. I don’t think I’ll cook on it. It’s too perfect.

  My phone chimes with a text and immediately my adrenaline spikes. Pulling it out of my pocket, it’s King. I want to see you.

  You just did.

  But I need more.

  Snapping a sassy pic of myself doing my best pose, I send it to him.

  Please don’t start with that.

  Why?

  He sends me back a zoomed in picture and says, Nipples.

  I look at the photo and had no idea. He’s so observant. What did you have in mind?

  Payback?

  For what?

  The disgusting lunch you made me stomach.

  Oh stop, it wasn’t that bad.

  YES IT WAS!

  Ohhh, shouty caps. Someone’s getting feisty.

  That’s it, I’m coming over and I have a key, so you can’t stop me.

  No. You can’t barge in here like you own the place, King.

  Yes I can, ‘cause I do.

  Don’t come here.

  I wait for his response. Who does he think he is? I just saw him. Jesus, he’s so much to be around. I need time to process everything. I’m not even sure if I like him or I loathe him. Flopping on my bed, still waiting for him to answer, I decide to do a Google search for “skull fuck,” and oh my God. It’s like the whole thing.

  Flipping through the photos, I get kinda turned on. Maybe I’d let him do that to me? Clicking on a link for a video, the guy is so gentle as the girl takes him deep in her throat. I’m sure my phone has now been infected with some sort of virus…but the way he brushes her hair off the side of her face and…“What are you watching?” King asks me, standing in the doorway to my room. Tossing my phone aside, I fly off the bed, “You motherfucker. You can’t come in here like that, without knocking.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t live here.” I push him backwards and he looks over me at my bed. Glancing back, I see the video is still playing on my phone and then a devilish grin plasters his face as he darts around me and hurdles on top of my bed, watching the video himself.

  Jumping onto his back, I reach for my phone, but he outstretches it in front of us. The girl is moaning and the guy is talking dirty to her. “Would you stop?” I ask still on top of him and fighting for my phone.

  “Would you let me do that to you?” he asks looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “No. Are you nuts?”

  “Maybe.”

  Giving up on fighting, I roll off him and lie on my back. What the fuck are we even doing here? He locks my phone, the noise stops as the video ceases. Then he leans over me with an arm covering my chest. I can’t control my heart rate when I’m this close to him. His other hand touches my lips, and I ask him, “Why do you always do that?”

  “What?” he asks, oblivious.

  “Touch my lips like that.”

  “Because they are perfect.”

  “No one’s perfect, King.”

  “Says who? You?”

  “Says everyone.”

  “Then why does the word exist if no one can hold the title?”

  “What are you a fucking poet too?”

  He smirks and says, “I like when you curse.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause it tells me that you have a dirty side.”

  “But I don’t,” I tell him, struggling to not smile.

  “Yes, you do…we all do. You’ve gotta be with the right person to bring it out.”

  “So what? You like to be rough and skull fuck women?”

  “Would you like that?” He touches my face and I lean into his warmth.

  “We haven’t even kissed yet.”

  “Do you want to?” he asks me.

  “Do you analyze everything in life, or just me?”

  “Everything.”

  “Well, stop and kiss me.”

  Slowly he scoots up his arm, brushes it all over my boobs, and I look into his blue eyes. His sweet breath is warm on my skin as I wait for him to close the distance. My pussy is tingling and I can’t take it any longer. Leaning up, I connect our mouths. He groans, cupping the back of my hair, and holds me, kissing me slowly. Then I slip my tongue into him, and he tastes like heaven, so much deliciousness that, yes…I’d let him do whatever he pleases to me right now.

  His other hand roams my body feeling my every contour. He stops at my breasts, squeezing and fondling them as we are lost in the most amazing kiss ever. I can’t help but moan, and he shifts on top of me, burrowing his hard cock against me. Urging my hips upwards, I enjoy the friction. My hands rake under his shirt, digging into his back, and I wrap my legs around him. He draws me up the bed, still never breaking our kiss. His phone rings and I sense him pause, but he ignores it and moves to the side a little, unbuttoning my shorts.

  Everything inside of me is on overdrive.

  Holy fuck, we are about to do this.

  He keeps moving his hips. His dick is so hard and finally he gets into my shorts. I can barely breathe I’m so horny, wanting him to touch me. As his hand cups my sex, his phone rings again. He stops kissing me, burying his nose into my cheek and pulls his hand out of my shorts. I whimper in protest and watch as he angrily answers his phone. “What?” he barks, still holding on to me.

  My hands are on his chest and he yells at whoever is on the phone. “No, you told me that we had until Monday. That’s bullshit, Peter. You can’t shut us down. Fine. I’ll be right there.”

  His hold on me loosens as he hangs up, gazing into my eyes.

  “You have to go?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Fuckin’ building inspector on a hundred million-dollar project.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. Not really sure what else to say.

  “Come with me?”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” He kisses me again. “My goddamn balls are about to explode. Come with me so I’m not imagining what you’re doing here all alone.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to interfere with your work.”

  Then all of sudden he lifts me off the bed and carries me out of my room. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you with me.”

  “Can I at least button my shorts and put my shoes on?”

  “I’d rather you not, when I can set you in my car like this.”

  “King, you know some of the shit you say and do is fuckin’ crazy, right?”

  He smirks and sets me down. I button my shorts and slide my flip-flops on. “See? I’m
all ready.”

  “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

  Shyly I push my hair behind my ear – no one’s ever told me that before. As we walk out and I lock my door, I tell him, “I want my key.” Reluctantly, he hands it to me, but I can tell he doesn’t like it. “Oh, and I need our agreement too,” I remind him as he opens the car door.

  “You were just about to have all of me deep inside of you. I think the agreement is a moot point.”

  He closes the door and struts around the car. As he slides into the driver’s seat, I ask him as we pull away. “Do you normally get what you want, acting this way?”

  “Yup.”

  “You know, I might make you work a little harder then, if you thought I was a sure thing in there.”

  His knuckles get white against the steering wheel and he puts the pedal down. Driving quickly to wherever we are headed, he doesn’t say anything else and I’m sure it’s because he’s processing what I said. But it’s the truth and especially if he always gets what he wants. I mean, he still hasn’t apologized for the noise, stealing my bike, or the restaurant incident, not to mention barging into my house today. A “sorry” really does go a long way.

  Chapter 13

  “So are you really going to make me try harder?” King asks getting back in the car after dealing with his building inspector problem.

  “Yes, and I think we need to set some ground rules, that’s for sure.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you owning up to some of the stupid shit you’ve done and apologizing for once.”

  “Apologizing?” he scoffs at me.

  “Yes, apologizing.”

  “For what?” he asks.

  “Do you really have to ask?”

  “Ever, you confuse me. We were making out and about to fuck. Now, I’ve got to try harder and apologize?”

  “Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest, and he says. “Oh, I can’t wait to fuck you so hard.”

  “Don’t think I’m that easy.” I’m dead serious as I look forward, clearly needing to teach him a lesson.

  Suddenly he pulls the car over and takes his sunglasses off. It takes everything inside of me to not look at him as he is leaning over the center console, breathing on me. Gently, he turns my head towards him with his thumb and forefinger gripping my chin as he begins to speak. “I’m sorry for anything that I’ve done to upset you like this.”

  “Do you even know what I’m upset about?”

  “I really don’t.”

  “King, you walk around like you’re better than everyone, controlling the universe as if it is your own game of chess. Everyone is a pawn second to you. And your actions, they have repercussions.”

  “Is that what you think of me?”

  “How could I not? Think back on things just today. You bought me a skillet that was way overpriced, you barged into my home and carried me out of it like you own me. You’re fucking crazy. You know I am my own person and can make my own decisions, right?”

  “I’m not crazy, Ever, but you keep saying that I am. I just…I’ve never met anyone like you. You…” He trails off. “You’re right…I’m sorry.”

  He puts the car in drive and pulls away. The unfinished outcome of our conversation is unsettling.

  As he pulls up to my apartment and puts the car in park, I feel bad that I called him crazy. Opening the center console, he pulls out our handwritten agreement and hands it to me. “Here.”

  “You’re not coming up?” I ask him, assuming that even though we had a disagreement he would. “No.”

  I turn to leave. But I can’t; something is pulling me towards him. Taking the back of his head in my hold, I kiss him hard, with as much passion as I can put into it. He holds on to my neck and I whisper, “Goodbye.”

  Giving him one last peck before shutting the door to his car, I don’t look back as I walk off. Why should I? We aren’t together. Walking inside my apartment, I wish I had my mom to call right now. She would give me the best advice and help me decide what to do.

  But then…there is a knock on my door that diverts my attention, and as I answer it, King’s sexy face stares back at me. “I can’t leave,” he says, leaning on the doorframe.

  “No?” I question.

  “No.”

  I step aside so he can come in and when he does, he has his arms around me. “Ever, I do things sometimes to impress. I don’t know why, it’s the way I’ve always been. But I need you to know that my intentions are for the best. I really want nothing but good for you. I’m sorry for, the skillet, and the bikes, and your work incident, and all the noise, and for acting like I could control you. Because I can’t.”

  “That’s it?” I ask, wondering if he has anything else to add.

  “Yeah, I think that’s all.”

  “Okay, thank you for apologizing. Shall we start with dinner?” I ask him, bracing myself on his biceps. Ready to dive in to whatever this is, with him. As nervous as I feel, something is pushing me forward.

  “Dinner’s great.”

  “Do you wanna help me cook?”

  “I’m not much help in the kitchen, but I’ll certainly try.”

  I wash my hands and he does the same, then I ask him as I pull out the ingredients for dinner. “Do you like chicken parmigiana?”

  “I do – I love anything Italian.”

  “Good, me too.”

  As we work in the kitchen together, we are very flirty and touchy. I like sharing this space with him. Typically, I like to handle the cooking myself, that’s if I’m not exhausted from work, but he’s a fast learner and surprisingly listens very well to instructions.

  As I strain the noodles, he flips the chicken one last time and I ask him, “Other than your aunt, do you have family here?”

  “No. You?”

  “My whole family is here,” I tell him. “This is where I was born and raised.”

  “My family is in Texas. My parents are both politicians and they’re big into it.”

  “Why didn’t you take that route?”

  “Hell no. Kissin’ ass wasn’t for me.”

  I add cheese and sauce to the chicken then plate our noodles. “Why Rhode Island then?”

  “I went to school here and got an internship right out of college. Then booked my first job and King Architecture was formed shortly after that, and really the last five years have flown by.”

  “Have you always gone by King?”

  “Have you always gone by Ever?”

  Neither of us answers the question, when you have an abbreviated name, even as strange as ours, it’s who you are. “Wanna beer?” I ask him.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  Taking one out of the fridge, I hand him his plate and a bottle of water, then we sit to eat. “Do you not drink?”

  “Not often.”

  “Ahhhh, I see the problem. My beer is too cheep for you,” I tease him. “Are my paper napkins not of your liking either?” I say to him with my eyes big, “And my water, is it not sparkling enough?”

  He lets me enjoy my little outburst then very seriously asks me, “Are you done?”

  I take my first bite of food, loving the flavors, and he says, “It’s none of that, Ever. When I’m around you, I need to be on my toes. Alcohol would put me at a great disadvantage, and I can’t risk that. I want to show you the utmost respect all the time.”

  “You already do that, King.”

  “But I don’t consistently do things correctly, and I want to. With you…I need to.”

  As I eat, I process his words and the depth of what they truly mean. He’s got something hidden within his layers that has made him this way, and if he’d let that go, he wouldn’t have to try so hard. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course,” he responds.

  “What’s your biggest hurdle been in life?”

  “That’s a hard question, don’t you think?”

  “No.”

  He contemplates my question for a moment. “Fine, maybe it�
�s been separating myself from the limelight of my parents.”

  “You seem to have done a very good job at that,” I tell him.

  “It’s all an illusion, what the Internet tells you. What’s yours?” he asks me.

  “What’s that mean?” I backtrack, needing him to clarify more.

  “Exactly, what I said. You thought I had a great relationship with my parents because of what you read about me online. When really the truth is they fuckin’ hate me because of my tattoos and that I chose to take my own route in life. To them I’m a low-class rebel who rejected everything they love. Galinda is my only real family.”

  “I don’t think your parents hate you, King.”

  “Well, you don’t know them, Ever, and that’s a good thing, they aren’t good people. Enough about me, what’s your biggest hurdle?”

  “Getting through the pain of losing my mom, and not only me, but also making sure my dad is okay too.”

  “You two were really close?” he asks.

  “Extremely.”

  “Your dad seems to be doing well.”

  “He has his days.”

  “What helps?” King asks me, and I get up grabbing one of the letters that my mom wrote to me. Passing it to him, he wipes his face and hands before taking it from me and then reads her words. He swallows, processing the letter. I can see he doesn’t understand how she sends them, now that she’s gone, and I help coax him along.

  “Before she passed she had a long battle with cancer and wrote letters to both my dad and I. Every year on our birthdays, they come.”

  “Who sends them?” he asks me.

  “We don’t know. We didn’t know she was going to do this.”

  “I bet it’s nice to get them,” he says passing the frame back to me.

  “It is, but it’s hard at the same time. Every year, it’s like I have to mourn her death all over again, but this is what she wanted, and for a brief moment, the letters give me relief.”

  “I couldn’t imagine. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. You’ve sure said ‘sorry’ a lot today.”

  He looks out the window and smirks shaking his head. “I’ve probably said it more today than I have my entire life.”

  “Well, cheers to that.” I raise my cheap beer and he taps it with his water.