The King Brothers Boxed Set

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The King Brothers Boxed Set Page 40

by Lisa Lang Blakeney


  “I know you're behind it. I don't know what you did, and I don't need to know. What's important is that I realize that you did it for me. So I'm thinking that you might have done of all of that because you either have too much time on your hands or what's more likely– you're falling for me."

  I start to run my fingers across his chest. Tracing one of his intricate warrior tats. It's one of my favorites. He grabs my right hand and kisses the inside of my wrist. One of his favorite spots on me.

  "I can't think when you touch me like this. We're having a serious conversation. Something I don't do often. So pay attention."

  "I'm sorry," I say in a cutesy voice. "What else did you want to say."

  "I'm saying that the plan was to fuck the fantasy of you out of my head and go back to my old life of titty bars and one-night stands."

  "Yuck, that sounds like a crappy plan. I don't like that plan," I say as I start to kiss his chest lightly. Ignoring his requests to "pay attention."

  "Obviously it didn't work. It completely backfired. I was fooling myself. I only wanted more of you after we slept together, and I want even more now.”

  "You could try again."

  "Try what?"

  I start to feel him stiffly poking through his pants.

  "Try fucking the fantasy of me out of you. We could keep trying until it sticks," I tease as I start to gyrate on his lap like a stripper.

  He places his hands on my hips to still them.

  "You're not playing fair."

  "I play to win, your majesty."

  "Our relationship is not just about sex anymore. You know that, right?"

  "Is that what's wrong with you? You don't think we're on the same page? We are, my sensitive little caveman. It was never just about sex between us. I was just too stubborn to see it."

  I push myself off of his lap, stand up, and push my sweats down to the floor. Stepping out of them one by one. Then I pull my sweatshirt over my head and toss that aside as well.

  A smile finally spreads across my brooding Viking's face.

  "Purple underwear?"

  "Do you like them?“

  "I do."

  My new favorite thing (Cutter's dick) angrily bounces up and down as he frees himself of his sweats and boxers. Sometimes I wonder how that thing fits inside of me. Yet it always seems to work out.

  "Grab the condom off of the counter over there, and come sit back down on your king," Cutter orders as he hungrily licks the corner of his lip. "And keep the panties on."

  "Well how's that going to work?"

  After Cutter rolls the condom on, I spread and straddle my legs across his lap. He slides the crotch of my panties to the side and pulls on the back of them so that they ride up the crack of my ass.

  "Sit. Down."

  He holds on the back of my panties like the reins of a saddle. Guiding me farther and farther down his cock. Until I'm so deeply seated that I'm perfectly full.

  "Now move," he orders by my ear. Holding his makeshift "reins" with one hand and wrapping the other around my throat.

  I start lowering my hips down on his cock, taking light gasps as my body becomes once again accustomed to his girth. I missed this so much. This is how it always should be. I start to pick up momentum, bouncing and winding my hips, as he meets me stroke for stroke. The sensation of the fabric between my butt cheeks, his hand around my throat, and the feeling of him inside of me are quickly building a tightness in my core that's building and building.

  My eyes close shut from the pure pleasure.

  "Look at me," he demands gruffly.

  I pop my eyes back open.

  ”I am," I whimper.

  "I love you, princess. You belong to me now."

  He pulls the reins tighter.

  Fuck.

  I can't even say it back. I can't say shit. I fall forward. My hands holding onto the top of his head as I continue to wind and bounce. I feel like there's a runaway train inside of me. It's almost like an out of body experience. I'm coming and it’s going to be hard.

  "That's my girl," he growls in my ear. "Work that pussy for your king."

  His dirty words push me over the edge.

  And I claw at his entire head while I free fall in orgasmic bliss.

  After he thrusts up a couple of more times inside of me, he finds his own release, spewing a few intelligible profanities. I love that I can make him feel as out of control as he makes me.

  As we hold onto each other, breathing heavily, we both start laughing.

  "I think we might end up killing each other before this is over," I say panting.

  "And what a sweet death it would be."

  He kisses me softly against my neck.

  "I love you too, Cutter."

  "Good that would have been real embarrassing if you didn't say it back."

  I laugh again.

  "Did I tell you that I'm going to be an interior decorator?"

  "No, baby, I was too busy fucking your brains out."

  "Well I am, and after Bitsy's nursery, my next project is going to be this apartment."

  "How much is that going to cost me?"

  "I don't know if I should charge you. I mean I do owe you a huge debt for fixing my life, don't I?

  "No, princess."

  He wraps his hands around one of my breasts and slides the other in my hair at the base of my neck.

  "I'm happy to say that your debt is paid in full."

  ♡♡♡

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  Note From Lisa…

  I tend to write my love scenes unconsciously bareback (without a condom). That's because I have been sleeping with the same man since I was 18 years old! God knows the last time I used a condom, and when I write, I tend to put myself in the bedroom. What would I like? What would I do? What would I say? None of that includes putting on a condom. So…

  I always have to go back to my scenes and say "oh crap" I didn't have my alpha put on a condom. Which of course he would. He always wants to protect his lady, until he knows that it's safe to move forward without one (lol!)

  So that's what this is. A scene that I included in an epilogue that didn't make the book, because it is deliciously bareback. The way God intended:) Enjoy.

  Dammit.

  I can hear the sound of drums. Loud drums. Tribal drums. Thumping and pounding their way through the entire hallway of our building. Cutter must be home.

  As I learn more about my king, I recognize that this is a sign that he’s probably busy methodically cleaning that pet gun of his, Benny. Because when Cutter starts cleaning his glock, he chooses to listen to bass heavy rap music cranked up loudly, which means that something has pissed him off.

  God knows that there’s nothing more annoying than a pissed off Cutter.

  "You’re home," he says coolly as I enter his apartment, my hands filled with groceries for dinner.

  Sure enough I was right. Cutter is sitting at the antique table that I purchased for him, pulling apart and cleaning his piece, in a crap shit mood.

  "What happened?" I ask turning down the music.

  "This shit building is what happened."

  "What’s wrong with it now?"

  "Pete said there are about three different leaks in the roof."

  "So patch 'em up. What's the problem?”

  "They’re too far gone. Evidently the tenants reported them a year ago, but your previous slumlord did nothing about it.”

  "Well that sucks."

  "Yeah it does. The oldest leak has been going on for four fucking years. I can’t believe you were paying the high rent you were for that kind of service."

  "So what does that mean? What do you have to do?”

  "It means that I’m going to have to replace the entire roof, and let me tell you, roofers are practically gangste
rs. They overcharge everyone.”

  "Hmm, maybe buying this building wasn’t such a good investment."

  I start putting away the assorted fresh vegetables and packages of chicken I bought and place them into his fridge. Cutter is actually the better cook. I can barely boil an egg. So the deal between us is that I buy the groceries, and he cooks us either breakfast or dinner. Whichever we're both at home for depending on our schedules.

  "Maybe this building wasn’t a good investment," he parrots back in an exaggerated imitation of my voice. "The investment was in you, princess. Not in any hope of seeing a profit from this money pit."

  "Stop talking about it like you regret it."

  Cutter cracks a smile.

  The gun magazine he was holding clanks on the table.

  "I don't regret shit."

  He stands up and wraps his arms around me from behind. Caging me in against the counter.

  "Of course you don't," I say leaning back in his embrace. Loving his smell. Relishing his warmth. He burrows his face into my neck.

  "So I got a really awesome job offer today," I say feeling like it's safe now to bring the topic up.

  “Yeah, that’s great, babe. How'd you get it?"

  "One of my mom’s contacts referred me."

  "Is it a big job?"

  He starts rubbing his hands along my thighs.

  "Yeah, it's pretty big."

  "So tell me about it."

  "It's just a job."

  I turn myself around inside of his human cage, standing on my tippy toes, so that I can wrap my arms around his neck, but he stands up tall making it difficult for me embrace him.

  "Bend down, you big Viking, so that I can give you a proper kiss hello. I don't have on my heels."

  "Not until you tell me about the job."

  "I just did."

  He moves further back.

  "You're not telling me something. I can feel it. What is it about this job that I'm not going to like?"

  "Okay, before I tell you–"

  "Uh-uh. Stop with the bullshit. Just spit it out."

  “Well my mom's friend Patty, the one I did the job for a few weeks back, is a publicist."

  "Yeah, so?"

  “So… she referred me to Ace Westerfield."

  “Ace Westerfield the music mogul?"

  "Yes, but–"

  “Ace Westerfield, the dickhead I did a fix for? The one I told you about?”

  “Yes, but–“

  "And why would you be doing a project for him? He doesn’t even own property in Philly.”

  "Well, if you let me explain, I’m trying to tell you that it's a multi-location project. It's a big deal, Cutter. I’d be assisting his company with the redecorating renovations of three commercial properties he owns. One in New York, one in Miami, and one in Toronto."

  Cutter moves completely away from me now.

  "How did you get a project like that? You haven’t been doing this long enough to get a gig like that, and connections aren't enough when someone is spending that amount of money."

  "I've been doing this long enough for friends to have built a pretty decent portfolio. A portfolio that apparently he was impressed by."

  "Or was he impressed with the size of your ass. Did you meet with him?”

  I take offense to that but I know where it's coming from. He knows things about Ace Westerfield that the rest of us don’t. None of them good.

  "I think I’m taking a little bit of offense to your attitude, Cutter. I know you don’t like the guy, but what does that have to do with me taking a job with his company? Don’t ruin it for me with your jealousy.”

  “He’s a loser.”

  “He’s a musical genius.”

  “His music is trash.”

  I laugh a little.

  “That’s a matter of opinion.”

  “No, it’s really a matter of taste,” he says while walking me backwards into the edge of the counter. “Have you signed anything?”

  “No, I have an informational meeting with him later this week to talk about the scope of the project.”

  “So what can I do to help you change your mind about taking the meeting?”

  He slides his hand in my hair. Caressing the edge of my ear with his thumb.

  “You’re suppose to be supporting my career. Not derailing it.”

  “I’ll pay you whatever he was going to pay you.”

  “No.”

  He grips my hair harder at the roots in response to my reply.

  “I’ll pay you twice whatever he was going to pay you.”

  My panties start to become wet with desire.

  “Twice?”

  “Twice.” He smiles devilishly.

  His other hand moves from around to waist, underneath my shirt, and towards one of my breasts.

  He’s playing dirty.

  “It’s not about the money,” I almost pant but then quickly check myself. “It’s about the prestige of the job.”

  “Working for me could be prestigious.”

  “You’re not Ace Westerfield.”

  He pinches my nipple hard between his fingers. I know it’s meant as a punishment, but it feels more like a reward. I close my eyes as I relish the delicious zing that it sends all the way to my clit.

  “No. I’m not. I’m your fucking king.”

  He savagely attacks my mouth. Kissing me senseless as one hand stays gripped in my hair and the other pulling and tugging at my nipple. I kiss him back with the same ferocity. We’re both pissed. He’s mad about the roof and that I’m meeting one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. And I’m mad that he’s giving me shit about it.

  I bite his bottom lip.

  He abruptly releases me from the kiss. Slowly licking the mark I left. He takes a step back and eye fucks my entire body for a moment. Devouring me from head to toe.

  “Take off your clothes,” he growls.

  “I’m not fucking you.” I announce.

  He chuckles.

  “Now both you and I know that’s a lie. You love it when I’m balls deep inside of you.”

  God, I hate it when he’s right.

  “Now head down and ass up on that big ass couch you made me buy.”

  I’m not sure whether to move or not. We need to discuss this. Not fuck. Plus even though I’ve slept with Cutter many times, I’m a little anxious about the growing intensity of each and every encounter. Each time is always different and always ends in a life changing orgasm. Not to mention that I can tell by the fire glowing in those whiskey colored eyes of his, that he’s about to give me the pounding of my life.

  So I do something dumb.

  I run.

  Skidding my way across the living room and into his master bedroom, I quickly shut the door and lock it.

  “Let’s talk first, caveman.” I say through the door practically laughing at how ridiculous I’m being.

  “My prey instinct is strong.” He says loud enough to hear through the apartment.

  “What?”

  “Like most predatory animals, my prey instinct is strong, princess. When something runs, it’s in my DNA to chase it.”

  He’s closer to the door now.

  I back away.

  This was really dumb.

  Cutter starts jingling the lock.

  “I just want to talk about me taking the job.”

  “I was going to do all kind of nasty things to you to help you change your mind about that. But now–“

  “Now what?” I ask nervously on the other side of the room.

  Suddenly the door flings open. It hits the wall. The door knob almost making a dent in the dry wall.

  “You kicking down the door in your own apartment?” I ask incredulously. “I said that we need to talk first.”

  He stops directly in front of me.

  “And I said head down, ass up.”

  I shriek as he swiftly lifts me up and flips me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  “Cutter!”
/>
  He looks at me with pure white heat in his eyes as he lifts the red hoodie he’s wearing over his head. Flashing his rock solid pecs and abdominals. Another one of my weaknesses. Cutter’s body is like a woman’s wonderland. It’s perfection.

  “Last warning, princess.”

  I scoot myself towards the headboard.

  “I won’t be working with Westerfield at all, Cutter. It will be his staff. I don’t see the big deal.”

  “The big deal is that I don’t want you away from me for a year, or even a fucking week, under the employment of that douchebag.”

  “I’ll tell him you’re my boyfriend. He obviously knows you.”

  Finally he pulls off his jeans, and the only remaining barrier between his protruding dick and myself are his black boxer briefs.

  “You tell him that I’m your man and that’s like putting a red bulls eye on your pussy. He’ll go after you harder. I’m telling you that we should just avoid all of that drama, and you stay home with me where you belong.” I watch the muscles in his powerful legs flex as he starts stalking towards me. “Now take off your fucking clothes and put your head down and your ass up on the bed like a good girl, so I can pound some sense into that pussy.”

  Shit.

  The muscles south of my belly button clench at every dirty word that comes out of his mouth.

  “Here, let me help you. You seem to be moving a little slowly today.”

  Cutter climbs on the bed and rakes his hand completely down my body ending at the top of my jeans. He unsnaps them.

  “I’ll get the jeans. You get the shirt.”

  There’s no talking to this crazy man of mine, until I leave him completely satisfied. So now I’m determined to do just that. I yank my graphic tee up over my head and toss it at his head laughing at the way he growls lowly in his throat.

  In response, he rips my thong to shreds throwing it on the floor beside the bed.

  “Hey those were my favorite panties.” I gripe playfully.

  “Correction. Mouth shut. Head down. Ass up.”

  I roll my eyes and turn around, burying my head into one of the pillows on his bed.

  Then I wait for it.

 

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