Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  “Fuck,” he groans, dropping my hips back down onto the bed and covering my body with his. “So fucking tight, and so fucking mine.” He caresses my throat softly as he extracts and enters. Slowly pumping inside, stretching me with every thrust. I feel the coolness of his silver piercing scrape against my wall as I contract around him. I cry out again, my legs wrapping around his waist.

  He chuckles, his grip tightening around my throat, as he picks up his pace. “So fucking wet for me.”

  My mouth opens, but he’s thrashing into me so hard that my words jerk and swallow.

  His fingers dig into my thigh as his other hand comes to my wrists and pins them above my head. I cry out in pain. It’s too much. The overwhelming sensations are drowning me, not one part of my body numb.

  “Who—” he growls, biting the flesh on my neck hard and pulling it between his teeth, “—owns you.” He dives inside of me again, slowing his thrust. The rhythm is powerful. With ever thrust of his hips, he fills me to the brink, until our bodies are slapping together in sweat.

  I scream—fucking scream—as another orgasm slashes me open and has me bleeding out my cries in raw hunger. I throb around him, and he chuckles.

  “King,” I plead, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck.

  “That’s right, baby.” He leans up, flipping me onto my stomach. He slaps my ass cheek, the heavy sting biting my flesh. I yelp as he grips onto my hips and pulls me up on all fours. Wrapping my hair around his wrist, he yanks my head back, his lips on my ear. He enters me again from behind, his thick length sliding inside of me. I wince at the pain, but when he hisses and his hand comes to my throat, I know I want to go again, even if it might kill me. “That’s exactly who the fuck owns you.” Tugging on my hair, he yanks my head back with one hand and locks onto the back of my neck with the other as he slams into me relentlessly. Over and over again. I feel my stomach curl, my pussy throb, and my clit swell, just as I release, another scream splitting through the walls.

  He pulls out, and I feel hot liquid shoot onto my back. I can barely keep my eyes open as I drop back down onto my belly, my eyes drifting closed. I don’t even have enough energy to care about the cum dripping down my back.

  I feel the bed lift from his weight. “King?” I whisper, so softly and using what little energy I have left. “Will you tell me why you’re so confusing?”

  He chuckles softly. “One day.”

  Dove

  I remember my obsession with birds. My mom said I wanted to own a big bird enclosure and keep as many as I could. Of course, that never happened, but I remember the feeling I had. The want. The obsession that overrode my common sense.

  That same feeling has somewhat come back.

  I fucked King last night.

  I groan, rolling onto my side, while flinching from the bruises over my hips and collarbone.

  Deep chuckling reverberates from the entryway, and I snap up to see Killian standing there with a cheesy grin on his face, spooning granola into his smug mouth.

  “What?” I swing my legs over the bed, hiding my flinch. I look around the room and wince at the mess. It looks like a stampede of angry animals had run through it. Clothes are everywhere, and the small dresser has been moved to the middle of the room, almost tipping over. He picked me up and slammed me against the dresser, placing me on top and sinking back inside of me…

  “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. I mean, that was the longest foreplay in history.” Killian nods his head. “Get changed. We’re going to crash a party.”

  “A party?”

  Killian nods.

  “In Texas?”

  He nods again, before realizing how lost I am. “You think we don’t know people after visiting the same places almost every couple years?”

  I think over what he’s saying. Obviously. “But I don’t really want to go to a house party.”

  Killian laughs. “Well, you have no choice.”

  He leaves, and I’m left sitting on my bed, with aching muscles and a confused brain. Why would we be attending a party in Texas? For some reason, I don’t think these boys make friends with just anybody.

  Once I’ve thrown on a discarded shirt, I stumble outside of my room and head straight for the coffee pot, pouring the black java into my mug.

  “You’re up early,” Kyrin purrs from behind me, shocking me into turning around.

  “I’m not—no.” Keaton shakes his head while walking down the stairs. “I didn’t want to hear what I heard last night.” Keaton, this scary, heavily tattooed and muscled man, looks like he has seen a ghost.

  “Oh, soooo, you guys are allowed to, but I’m not?” I ask, one eyebrow quirked.

  “First of all, we don’t bring girls back here—period,” Keaton clarifies. “Second of all, we’re not fucking each other either.”

  “I mean, not from a lack of me trying.” Kyrin grins at Keaton.

  Keaton flips him off and drops down onto the chair beside me.

  “Ah.” I scoff. “Ya do. It was just a few nights ago I witnessed it myself.” Before I can stop myself, the words are spilling out of my mouth.

  “What are you talking about?” Keaton answers, shaking his protein shake. “We don’t bring girls here. It’s against our house rules.”

  “She’s talking about Val,” King chimes in, waltzing into the kitchen with no shirt on and with freshly fucked hair. He cuts me with a stare that pretty much translates into who the fuck are you? Which, again, confuses me. Or maybe he’s mad at me for bringing up Val.

  “You brought Val into your bed? I thought you didn’t hit that anymore.” Keaton glares at King as Killian finally enters.

  King stares at me. When I say stare, I mean, he’s looking directly into my soul. It’s as though he’s reaching through my body and grabbing it by his bare hands. Like he damn well owns it. “And I don’t.”

  His words should relax me, but the intensity of his eyes and the tone of his voice flip my belly upside down.

  I switch gears, wanting to change the subject, and take some heat off myself. “So, this party?”

  Killian smirks, leaning back in his chair. His dark hair dances in the soft wind that blows through the RV as someone opens the main door. “Well, it’s a little more than a party.”

  “Dude, I’m going to need all of you to stop talking until at least midday.” Maya walks in, massaging her temples while wearing oversized glasses and her hair in a mane all over her face. “Tell me that I’m not the only one who drank until the early hours of the morning.”

  Silence falls around us when I push back from my chair. “What time are we leaving?” I ask no one in particular.

  Maya interrupts me, “Where are we going?”

  “Nowhere,” Killian cuts her off.

  Her eyes connect up at his from behind her glasses, and I watch as his hand curls around her chin, his thumb caressing it. “We’re just taking Dove for a ride.”

  “That’s all you needed to say, Kill. You don’t need to be all nowhere.” I offer her a polite smile before I make my way into my room, pulling open my closet. I have no idea what I should wear, so I settle on something I would wear if I was at home. My comfort clothing. The clothes I’d like to die in. Wait. I shouldn’t say that where these boys are concerned. High-waisted ripped jean shorts and a loose white Givenchy tee. I tie it in a knot in the middle, so it rides above my lower belly. Showing enough, but not too much. Like a sliver of skin. Squeezing on my maroon Chucks, I run my brush through my long waves and powder up my face a bit before picking up my sunglasses and wallet and making my way out to the kitchen to wait on the boys. I haven’t had to use the card King gave me yet—mainly because I haven’t been anywhere—but it’s good to know that if I need to, I have money there that I’ve somewhat worked for. I downloaded the app yesterday, too, so it’s easy enough for me to access when needed.

  King is still on the table eating when I reappear. “You’re not changed?” I ask, cocking my head.

  He licks h
is lip, shaking his head. “Nope. You goin’ like that?” I look down at what I’m wearing, feeling thrown off.

  My eyes connect back to his. “Yeah, why?”

  He shrugs. “No reason.” Standing from his chair, I watch as he empties the rest of his food into the trash and then rinses his plate. “If I was a good man, Dove, I’d warn you about today.” His tone is smooth, like ice, right before it cracks and creates an avalanche.

  “And are you?” I ponder aloud, my eyes never shifting from him. His back muscles tense, and I have to fight the urge to go toward him and run my fingertips over every edge. Every dip and curve that’s indented into his skin. Vivid images flash through my head of what happened last night. My mouth waters with what I still want to do to him… My tongue tracing his V, down, sucking on his skin all the way until I lick the edges of his pierced cock.

  My thighs clench. I’m definitely needing to do that…

  “Little Bird,” King interrupts my happy daydream. I find him staring directly at me now, leaning against the counter. “If you keep looking at me like that, we will both end up dead.”

  I chuckle, the depth of his words not yet sunken in. “I wasn’t.”

  His perfect eyebrows shoot up.

  “Fine, maybe I was.” I’m not going to pretend that I don’t find him attractive or that I don’t feel something for him. I wouldn’t have slept with him last night had I not. I’m about as open about my feelings as my legs were last night.

  He pushes off the counter, and every step he takes closer to me, he steals one hundred breaths. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” I answer, searching his eyes. I see the fire in his. The way they hood with every stride.

  I go to step back when one of his arms reaches out and wraps around my back, pulling me into his chest. His chest that I’m getting well acquainted with. “We can’t do that again.”

  “What?” I ask, swimming in the pool of his eyes, but well aware that an anchor is strapped around my ankles, and if I don’t swim hard enough, I’ll sink to the bottom of the ocean.

  “We. Can’t. Do. That. Again.”

  His words power through me like a frenzied preacher at Sunday service. I rear my head back, yearning for some distance. “Okay, but why?”

  He releases me, just as someone patters down the stairs. I don’t look at who it is. I don’t care. I want to know why we can’t do that again. There’s obviously a reason. If there wasn’t, King isn’t the type of man to tiptoe around anyone’s feelings. He’d flat out say he didn’t want me.

  “King, what the fuck, man? Why are you not ready?” Killian scolds him.

  King releases me and steps back, before I get an answer, and slowly disappears up the small stairwell.

  “Little Bird,” Killian interferes, and I snap my attention to him. “It’s for the best. Trust me.”

  I scoff. “I remember one day not long ago, you told me not to trust you.”

  Killian’s carefree smile falls. “I know, but on this, you can.”

  The drive to the “party” is long. All of us are piled into a black souped-up Rolls Royce SUV. Wheels, windows, even the grill at the front is black. King is driving, I’m in the passenger seat—not sure why—and Kyrin, Kill, and Keaton are in the back. I’ve tried asking about this party, but none of them have much to say about it. We drive for another fifteen minutes, swerving between cars on the highway and drifting against the ruthless humidity of the South. The sun has set, leaving a burnt orange residue smudged through the sky. We finally pull into a small, gated community. The fence line is hardwired, with the peaks of each curve reaching for the sky. King turns the music down and lowers his window. He leans over, and I watch as he reaches for a small pin box and punches in a long sequence of numbers.

  Weird, I think to myself, but otherwise, ignore it. He shifts back into his seat just as the wired gates squeak as they open, allowing us to enter.

  “What is this place?” I ask. An air of familiarity brushes over my fickle flesh, but before I grasp onto it, maybe squeeze it a little to see if any recognition drips out, it’s gone.

  “Just stay close to us,” King announces, his eyes flying to the rearview mirror.

  “What? Why? I thought this was a party?” I watch as we drive down a dark street, with homes as large as the White House. Large, white old plantation homes with manicured lawns pass one by one. Each house has a streetlight hanging near the front, claws of metal grasping onto the bulbs. They look medieval, wrong, in this type of exclusive setting.

  King drives us up a driveaway at the very end of the street. It’s long, and has manicured hedges that line it all the way to the front of the house where a fountain is awaiting the center of it. Four monstrous-sized pillars hold up the structure of the home at the front, all glistening white with clean windowsills and a heavy front entrance door that makes you want to run away, rather than knock on it.

  “Dove,” King interferes my gawking.

  “Yeah?” I look right at him, searching his eyes.

  “You don’t take anything from anyone that is not us four. Do you understand?” I do, yet I don’t. But I understand. I mean, it’s a party.

  “I know not to take drinks from strangers, King.”

  “That’s not my point, Dove,” he throws my tone back in my face. “It’s not your drink you should be worried about.” Then his eyes savagely drop down my body, landing straight between my thighs.

  “Okay!” I snap. “I get your point.” I sigh, reaching for my door handle as the rest of them start to climb out. The warm air whisks through my red strands, flicking them all over my face.

  “Come on,” Killian murmurs, nudging his head.

  I start following behind him, searching around the house for other clues on what this party could be about when I realize that Kill, Keaton, and Kyrin are all walking in front of me and King is walking directly behind me. I feel like a caged wild creature, either desperate to break free or terrified to be unleashed. Either way, some weird, twisted part of me knew that even though these men have done things to me. Horrible, at times questionable things, in this very moment, I feel like their protected prey. They can feast on me, but if anyone else tried, they’d be torn apart.

  I don’t know how that makes me feel. Scared? Yes. Confused? Definitely. But do I feel empowered? I’m not sure. I should feel that way, but I don’t.

  We reach the front door, and Kill pushes it open, exposing a vast, pristine white foyer. A glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and I instantly smell sweet lavender mixed with ash.

  “Where are we going, and why are there no people here?” I turn to watch as King shuts the front door with his back, his eyes on me. “Let me guess. You guys brought me here to kill me.”

  “Quite the contrary, Little Bird.” King smirks, waving me to continue walking. I follow his silent instructions and follow the three merry men as we all move through the house and pass the sitting room. It has two dark leather chairs that face a large U-shaped sofa. The chairs twist and turn high at the back, inviting yet cold.

  “Stop looking, Little Bird. You might end up in trouble,” King whispers from behind me, his hand on my ass. I suck in a breath at his connection.

  Killian opens a glass door, and we step through, out onto a large patio that dips into a field. I hear people chatting when I find around a dozen standing around a large fire pit. This is more like a bonfire, as the flames assault the night. It’s as though everyone stops as we enter, all eyes on us. I drift around to each of them. Some wearing suits, some wearing casual clothes, and that’s when I realize they’re all men.

  “Welcome, Kiznitch. So nice of you to—” A woman’s voice is cut when her eyes land on mine. Her hair is long and black, dropping to her butt, and her eyes are slit in perfect almonds, but shaped with black liner. So black I can barely make out her eyeshadow. She’s tall and lean, with a golden tan and sharp collarbones, and it’s not until she starts speaking again that I notice what she’s wearing. A lace red gown
that’s completely see-through, with her cleavage pouring out of her dress. “What is this?” she asks, her words faltering as a smile about as fake as her hair plasters over her face. I can’t decide how to peg her. What to categorize her as.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Killian’s tone is playful, and I just know he’s going to hit her with a smart-ass comment. “I wasn’t aware that it was invite only, Mother.”

  His mom? No fucking way is this woman his mother. She looks to be in her mid-thirties, if that, and I know all about Botox and all the type of shit you can get filled into your face, but there’s no way this woman has anything to do with that. Furthermore, why the hell am I here?

  “Killian,” she grates through her teeth. “A word.” She sashays past us and heads straight for the house, Killian smirking from behind her.

  “Okay, someone has to fill me in here,” I say, loud enough for them to hear me but not for the strangers. “What is this party, and is she really his mother?”

  King ignores me, moving straight past me and heading for a group of men who are around the bonfire. They’re older men, all classically handsome from what I can see, and wearing sharp, excellently tailored suits.

  One in particular catches me eye, mainly because he’s already watching me. He has graying hair that’s cut short on the sides and slicked back on the top. He’s wearing a dark suit with no tie, the collar loosened around his neck. A cigar dangles from between his two fingers, with a red pocket square folded into his front pocket. It’s not until King is standing directly in front of him when he finally pulls his attention away from me.

  “Who’s that?” I ask, nudging my head toward the man, or men, who King is talking to.

  Keaton follows my line of sight, and then looks back at me. “It’s no one.”

  King

  “Son.” My dad grins. He’s aged since the last time I saw him. Wrinkles sink into the corners of his eyes, his skin as worn as his Desert Eagle. “Didn’t realize you were bringing company.”