Cruel Intoxication: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 4)

by Kelli Callahan

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, you’re … big. I need a minute to adjust. I’ve never…” Her throat bobs. “I’ve never been on top.”

  “Well, just so you know, you look fucking hot.” My throat rumbles with gravel while I pluck her nipples, and she bucks, pressing herself all the way down against me.

  So. Fucking. Wet.

  “That’s it,” I croon. “And anything you do will be perfect.”

  “Like this.” She thrusts her hips forward and back, milking my cock, using me like she deserves to.

  I lift my hand and spank her right cheek. “Just like that.”

  She pauses and stares at me wide-eyed.

  And it hits me when I realize what I’ve done. “Jolie, I’m so sorry. It was… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Do it again,” she states, testing another rock of her hips, moaning.

  “Wh…what?” I stutter, dragging my hands up her back, then down again.

  “Again. Spank me again.”

  Smack.

  “Yes,” she hisses.

  Smack.

  She tilts her head back and lifts her arms, crossing them behind her head. “Again.”

  Smack.

  “Owen, harder.”

  “No,” I say, not wanting to spank her harder than I am.

  She takes my hands and smacks them to her ass, gritting her teeth. “I said harder, damn it!”

  I sit up and rob her mouth before she can sass me anymore, and both of my hands smack her ripe globes.

  “Yes, oh god, more. I’m close. I’m so close,” she says, swaying back and forth on my cock.

  I continue the double rounds of spanking, using my hands to welt that white ass to a pretty shade of red. Burying my face in her chest, I stretch my tongue and lick her nipple. I’m everywhere. I’m being sloppy, but I can’t help it. I need to be all over her, and I can’t decide what to focus on.

  My orgasm threatens again, but I can’t lose it before she does. I squeeze my eyes shut, doing my best not to explode, but her moans, her heat, it’s too much. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I can’t hold out. I thrust my hips up and piston in her tight channel, roaring my inability not to come.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Her pussy clamps around me as she comes, screaming my name at the top of her lungs, “Owen!” She stops moving, and I glance down to see the root of my cock, wet and shining with her slick as her muscles continue to spasm.

  “You. Are. Mine.” I plant myself as far as I can and come, my seed splashing against her walls. Her pussy drinks me and I hope, like I shouldn’t, that I find my way to the deepest, most intimate part of her.

  That’s what I need. I need to make her mine.

  More than words, more than physical contact.

  I need her to marry me. I need her to have my children.

  I fucking need her.

  Twenty-One

  Jolie

  I am deliciously sore.

  I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life.

  Owen was gentle, passionate, and he knew where to touch me without me saying anything. We were entuned with one another, a song with music and lyrics that when they come together, the combination is one that can never be forgotten. It’s written in history as one of the greatest ballads in the world.

  That’s what we are.

  We are the songs people sing and write about.

  I didn’t think anything like that was real. I thought love was this thing people wished upon a star for, but that isn’t the case. Love happens when you least expect it. I mean, I ran through the woods to get away from a maniac, and I never expected to run into love.

  It was the last thing I wanted. I never wanted to be with a man ever again, and Owen changed my mind.

  He didn’t try to change my mind; it was natural, something as easy as breathing and thinking.

  I look out the window and see the sun is barely rising. I turn to my left and see Owen sleeping. His arm is stretched behind him, and his biceps bulge. The sheet is hanging on his hips, and his strong frame has my eyes lingering over the defined pec muscles and riveting abs. No one should be this good looking.

  Really.

  No one.

  “Watching someone sleep is creepy,” he mumbles sleepily without opening his eyes.

  “I’m not.” That doesn’t even sound convincing.

  “You are. It’s okay, I like it.”

  I swirl my finger over his chest, tracing an imaginary heart over his right pec. “Yeah?”

  His arms come down and wrap around me, pulling me close to his naked body. “Yeah, anything you do I think I’ll like it.” His thumb rubs along my shoulder, my eyes growing heavy again since his touch relaxes me. “How do you feel? You okay?” he asks.

  “I’ve never been better,” I say honestly, pressing a kiss to his side. My body starts to wake up, and so does his by the rising erection tenting the sheets. “I see someone else is feeling great too.”

  “You’re touching me. Of course I’m great.” He flips me over and tries to kiss me, but I turn my head away because, hello, morning breath. “Give me those lips,” he orders.

  I shake my head.

  “Now.” His voice deepens with a threat.

  “But my breath…”

  His hand grabs my jaw, and he forces me to look straight at him. “I said I want your lips. I want them any time of day or night.” He slams them on me and guides his cock between my legs. I’m swollen, hot, and still dripping from his come from how many times we had sex last night. “Are you going to deny me?”

  I shake my head and try to kiss him again, but he rears back.

  “I want to see your face when I’m inside you. There isn’t anything like it.” Right as his cock lodges at my entrance, the phone rings. He drops his head to my shoulder and groans. “No,” he whines.

  “Ignore it,” I say, sliding my hand down his back and taking the sheet with me as I go.

  “I can’t. It’s Jaxon’s ringtone.” His eyes widen with a memory. “Heaven!” He rolls off me and grabs his phone off the nightstand. “Hello?” he answers. “Yeah? He’s awake? We are on our way.” He hangs up the phone and drops the sheet, his cock semi-hard and my mouth watering, but I know our time is cut short.

  And it is for something much more important than sex.

  I can’t help how Owen makes me feel. He says he has woken up after twenty years, but I’ve woken up too. I’ve been afraid for so long, I’ve forgotten what it is like not to be afraid.

  “He’s okay?”

  “He’s okay, and he is asking for me. I’m scared as hell. I nearly killed my best friend.” His hands shake as he jumps into his blue jeans. He buttons his jeans and reaches for his shirt. “I bet he hates me. He has every right to hate me. I can’t believe I did what I did, Jolie. I can’t. It’s like I saw him… but then it wasn’t him. I don’t even know who I was looking at. I don’t even know.”

  I stand from the bed, naked as the day I was born, and walk over to him. “He doesn’t hate you. What matters is that he is alive. Everything is going to be okay.” I grab my own jeans from the hanger, along with my shirt, and get dressed.

  “I love you,” he says, wrapping an arm around my waist just as I was about to put my messy hair on top of my head.

  “I love you too, Owen. It’s going to be okay. I have a good feeling.” We double check the room to make sure we didn’t forget anything and run out the door. The walk is quiet, but not like last night; there is still tension. It isn’t toward me, but toward Heaven. Owen really is afraid that his friend is going to disown him.

  The air slams against our faces when the double doors open. It’s quiet. The world isn’t awake yet, and it’s peaceful. Hand-in-hand, we walk to the large white building ahead of us. There are a few cars in the parking lot, but not as many as there were yesterday. Owen blows out a breath, and I tighten my hand in his, letting him know that I’m here, that I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.

  If Offi
cer Howard arrests him and Owen goes to jail, then I’ll be here waiting for him to get out. Owen is my other half, and people don’t give up on their other halves when times are tough.

  Before we know it, we are inside the hospital and pressing the button of the elevator, waiting for it to come down from the seventh floor. Owen is bouncing on his heels, clicking his tongue, and the closer the elevator gets, the more nervous he gets.

  I’ve never seen him like this before.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say again.

  “I’ll lose my entire family if Heaven doesn’t forgive me because what I did was unexpectable. I’ll be by myself.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll have me.” I bring his hand to my lips and give him a quick kiss just as the elevator dings. The doors open, and the empty box is waiting for us to enter. I step in first, and Owen follows me only because I have a tight hold on his hand. The elevator smells like death, plastic, and blood. It causes me to wrinkle my nose. “Floor?” I ask Owen.

  “Third.”

  I press my fingers against the number three, and the elevator doors shut and the box lifts. Owen blows out a breath and keeps his eyes on the number scale.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

  And Jaxon is there waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. When he sees Owen, his shoulders sag and he rushes forward, grabbing Owen in a tight hug. “You son-of-a-bitch. We were worried about you. I was afraid you were going to do something stupid, but Grayson told me not to call, that you needed time to wrap your head around what happened.”

  “Yeah.” Owen pats Jaxon’s back and clears his throat. “I feel fucking terrible, Jaxon. I… I can’t believe I lost it like that. Heaven is my best friend. I love you guys, but Heaven and me, it’s always us, you know? I wasn’t seeing him when Howard showed up with the photos. It isn’t an excuse.”

  “We’ve all done terrible things, Owen. Sometimes those things effect the ones we love. You ready to see him?”

  “Does he hate me?” Owen asks and pinches his brows together.

  “Like Heaven could ever hate anyone. If he was murdered by a serial killer, Heaven would probably still hug the guy because that’s just Heaven. Stop worrying,” Jaxon advises. “He’s doing good. The piece of glass was deep, but it didn’t touch his heart or any other major organs. It nicked his esophagus, and that’s why he was coughing up blood.”

  “So what you’re saying is…” Owen gets choked up. “What you’re saying is that he is okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s doing good, and he is asking for you, so let’s go see the man, okay?”

  “Okay.” Owen smiles.

  We walk down the darkened hall, and the urge to pee hits me. I haven’t gone yet since I woke up. The restroom sign is up ahead, and I tug on his arm. “I’m going to go to the restroom. What room number is it, and I’ll meet you there?”

  “323,” Jaxon states, and then eyes Owen warily. “We can wait. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I roll my eyes. “Really. You guys have had one eye on me for far too long. Being able to pee on my own will be a huge step in recovery.”

  “Oh, she has jokes, now? What did you do to her, Owen?” Jaxon teases and shoots me a wink and smile.

  I blush as bright as a firetruck and head toward the restroom. Oh god, how embarrassing.

  “You dog.” Jaxon chuckles from behind me, but even as I get further away, I hear Jaxon say, “I’m happy for you, Owen. You deserve her.”

  I’m not going to cry. I’m done crying. I finally feel like I’ve been accepted, like I’ve crossed this healing milestone and the only way to go from here is up. Pushing the door open, the puke green tile floor comes to view along with three sinks against the wall. “Creepy,” I mutter. This restroom needs a desperate upgrade. The white sinks, the dirty narrow mirrors, and the stainless steel stalls give me the abandoned warehouse vibe for some reason.

  Entering the stall, I lock it behind me, unbutton my pants, and do my business.

  I hear the front door swing open, and shoes hit the ground as another woman walks in. I gather the toilet paper in my hand just as someone tries to open my stall door. “Someone is in here,” I say, wondering why they are choosing my stall when there are two others to the right of me that are open.

  The door jiggles again and I stand, button my pants, and use my foot to flush the toilet. No way in hell am I using my hand.

  “Someone is in here,” I say in a singsong voice.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The stall door shakes, metal against metal, and my heart stops. I look down to see the shoes that I thought were a woman’s just moments ago.

  Boots.

  Big black boots.

  “Oh god,” I whisper and cover my mouth with a shaky hand.

  “Jolie. Jolie. Jolie,” the familiar voice tsks. “Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

  I scream when the door is kicked in and flies to the wall, breaking the seat off the toilet. He steps in and turns his head to me. His hair is longer than I remember, shaggier, and he has a cut on his face from where I hit him over the head with the wooden plank.

  I’m frozen in fear. I can’t move. My body is paralyzed as the man of my nightmares comes closer. What do I do? I don’t know what to do. Tears fall down my face as I begin to shake all over. He stands in front of me and braces his arms on either side of my head.

  Something Owen loves to do, something I’m not afraid of when it comes to him.

  I’ve learned. In this moment. That it isn’t the action I’m afraid of as much as it is the man. This man in front of me, every move he makes scares the hell out of me.

  “What … what do … you want?” I stumble through chattering teeth and a dry tongue. “Please, leave me alone.”

  “I can’t do that.” He shakes his head and reaches a hand up to my new hair, humming in appreciation from how soft it is. “You know I can’t.” His presses his nose against my temple and inhales. “I’ve missed the smell of you, Jolie. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

  “Leave me alone!” I open my mouth to finally scream when the present comes crashing down on me, but he throws a hand over my mouth and presses his body against mine. I can feel his pathetic cock against my thigh, and bile forms its way up my throat.

  I can’t live through this again.

  “You know, I was going to leave you alone. I was. Truly. I didn’t know for sure you were with Owen, not until I crawled out of that river and found my way home to stitch myself up. When I was better, I went to the Cliff House, and I saw you there. The anger for that man grew again, and I knew I had to ruin him just like he ruined me. Do you understand? Do you understand that he cannot be happy? He stole from me.”

  “You stole from him. His pregnant wife!” I gather spit in my mouth and hock it into his face. The sick fuck licks it off his lips and wraps his hand around my throat.

  “My wife was pregnant too when those machines failed. The machines that were supposed to keep her breathing. What would happen if I used the same machines on you?” He twists his head in thought. “I wonder how he would feel then.”

  “They’re going to be looking for me soon. Someone is going to come in here. You weren’t quiet. You fucked yourself.”

  “Stupid bitch,” he says, sliding his finger down my nose. “You think I ever do anything unprepared? Everyone in this hospital is asleep. And you will be too in about…” He looks at his watch. “Two minutes.” He licks the outer shell of my ear and grunts. “It’s amazing what a little gas can too in the air vents.”

  “You’re going to be asleep too,” I say, starting to feel the grogginess, but I’m not going to let him know that.

  “No, I won’t be.”

  That’s when I notice the backpack straps on his shoulders just as my vision starts to go fuzzy. He releases my throat, and I fall to my knees. I do the o
nly thing there is left to do.

  I crawl toward the doorway.

  “Oh, look at you. Always the fighter.” He kicks my side, and I fall to my back, crying out in pain as he places his face in front of mine, which is covered with a mask. “You won’t be fighting much longer; don’t you worry.”

  I’ll always fight. If there is one thing I have learned from being in his clutches, it’s I gave up on myself too soon. I thought I was dead. No, I was dead. I died inside when I convinced myself I was goner. There was no fight left for me.

  I will never make that mistake again.

  “Go to hell,” I wheeze.

  He chuckles maniacally, the heated laugh as dark and forbidden as a sin casted by the Devil. He pats my face and brings himself closer to me. I can see the wild brown eyes behind the mask, and even though I can’t see his lips, he is smiling. “I’ve been there, and you know what? It isn’t as bad as everyone makes it out to be.” He picks up my limp body and throws me over his shoulder.

  The gas is starting to take effect. As we walk through the hall, I see Jaxon and Owen laying on the floor, unconscious, and I want nothing more than to run to his side.

  But I can’t move.

  I might not be able to move now, but that won’t always be the case. I gave up on myself once before, but I let won’t it happen again.

  This man took everything from me.

  And I plan to take it back.

  Twenty-Two

  Owen

  There’s a light shining in my eyes that has me sitting up on a huge gasp of air.

  “Well, his pupils are dilated,” Doctor Gladstone says.

  I rub my eyes and press my hand against my head when my temple starts to throb. There is a flurry of commotion. Cops are everywhere, including Officer Howard. He’s squatting, waiting for me to get my bearings.

  Jaxon is up and to his feet, standing next to a gurney and holding Quinn’s hand.

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s in premature labor. Whatever happened, it’s caused her to go into labor a month and a half early!” Jaxon roars.