Shattered King

by Sherilee Gray

  “Not as much as me. Nothing tastes as good as you.”

  I found it hard to believe he enjoyed it as much as me, but I wasn’t in any condition to argue. I sure as hell wasn’t complaining, seemed like a win/win situation to me.

  “After that, I’m gonna let you sit on my cock, and ride me hard. I wanna watch your tits bounce. I wanna see your face when you sink down and I stretch you wide, hear you scream when you come all over me.”

  His dirty words, combined with the yummy way he swirled his finger around my clit, and I almost came right then. I gasped and wriggled, but he held me at his mercy, and just like last night, I liked it. I liked handing the power over to Hunter. I couldn’t mistake him for someone else. No one else made me feel this way. No one.

  “Please. Now.”

  His hand left my pussy and smoothed over my hip. “Arch your back, babe. Give me that ass.”

  I arched.

  “Love this ass.” He squeezed a cheek, then lifted my leg back over his thigh, opening me wide. I felt the fat, swollen head of his cock at my entrance. Then he started to push in, stretching me, filling me until I was gasping for breath and quivering with need. He curled back around me, so all I could feel was him, everywhere. His hand came under me, and around, roughly cupping the opposite breast, holding me to him. The other went back between my legs, finding my clit.

  Then he started fucking me, hard and fast like he said. So hard my body jolted every time he slammed home. The way he held me, all I could do was take it, take every brutal thrust.

  The pressure started building, and I chased it, my hand going down to cover his, pressing his fingers more firmly against me. I moaned. “Harder, baby.”

  Hunter snarled, then fucked me harder.

  I screamed his name when I came, and his muscled arms held me down when I twisted and thrashed through it.

  “Fuck, Lulu,” he said in a rough whisper against my ear, then came as well, holding me tight the whole time.

  We lay there in silence for a while after, until Hunter gave me a squeeze, his lips moving along my shoulder. I tried to turn again, but again he stopped me, keeping my back to him.

  “It’s time I told you something,” he said.

  I stiffened. I didn’t mean to, but all the happy post-orgasm feelings flowing through my body vanished instantly at his serious tone.

  “Relax. What I’ve got to tell you, it does not change anything between us, but I got shit I’ve been dealing with all my life. That shit made me the man I am now. Some of it you know, some you don’t.”

  I tried to turn again and this time he let me. My heart started pounding in my chest when I saw the pain and anguish lining his features. Whatever this was, it was something that had affected him deeply.

  I threaded my fingers through his and tried to keep my freak-out under wraps.

  His eyes held and locked onto mine. God, it hurt to look at him right then.

  “You know me and the old man never got along. You also know he liked to use his fists on his kids. Van got a taste of it, Mom too, but I was his favorite puppy to kick around.”

  Nausea curled in my belly. “Hunter, you don’t need to . . .”

  He gave me another squeeze. “I want you to know where I’m coming from, when it comes to not only you, but Josh as well.”

  “Okay.”

  “It was no secret my old man hated me. He told me every day. I wasn’t good enough to have his name attached to mine. He made sure we knew every time he took his fists to us it was my fault. That just looking at me made him sick to his stomach.”

  A painful lump formed in my throat.

  “He wasn’t my father.”

  I stopped breathing. “What?”

  “My biological father is the man who attacked my mother one night on her way home from work. The man who dragged her into a dark alley, beat the shit out of her, and raped her.”

  Oh God.

  “The old man made sure I knew I wasn’t his as soon as I was old enough to understand. He was an angry, abusive asshole. Angry that my mother refused to get rid of me, and angry that he had to look at me every day and remember what happened to his wife.” He sucked in a breath. “Angry with himself, drowning in guilt that he hadn’t been there to protect his woman.”

  I clung to him tighter. “I’m . . . God, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  He cupped my face. “I know what it is not to be wanted. I would never do that to our son. He’s mine in every way that matters. I would never hurt him, never turn my back on him. He’ll know nothing but love from me. I don’t give a fuck who makes up the other half of his DNA . . . but, baby, I care a whole fuck of a lot how our boy might have been brought into this world.”

  My stomach tightened, clamped down into a hard, pain-filled ball. Oh God, he couldn’t get past it.

  I blinked up at him, fighting that feeling of goddamn helplessness I loathed so much.

  “I need you to know where my head’s at.” He brushed my hair back so tenderly, my heart squeezed. “My woman was abused, violated, and I wasn’t there to protect her. I understand that anger now. The anger the old man had to fight every day. Only he took it out on the wrong people, those he should have taken care of. I’m not angry at you, and I’m sure as fuck not angry at Josh.”

  “You blame yourself?”

  “Lulu, yeah.”

  I cupped his face. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it.”

  “This isn’t something you can help me with.” He shook his head. “I’ve got to work through this on my own, but I need you to know what I’m fighting here.”

  “You’re drowning in guilt?”

  “I’m drowning in guilt,” he confirmed.

  Hearing that, it killed me. Killed me.

  “I’m trying to get a handle on it. But babe, you know I’m protective. I’m also possessive as hell. I’m those things on a good day, but this shit we’re in the middle of, it amplifies all of it. I’m going to do my best not to let that touch you, but sometimes I’m not going to be able to keep a lid on it . . . like last night. I’m gonna need you to cut me some slack.”

  “I can do that.” And I could.

  He kissed the top of my head, and tucked my head under his chin.

  “You’re drowning in guilt?” I repeated against his skin.

  “Lulu . . .”

  “Please . . . don’t do that.”

  “Babe . . .”

  I pulled back, and his eyes on me were intense but soft. I shook my head. “I want you to stop it.”

  He stared, then his lips lifted on one side. “Sweetheart.”

  “I’m serious, Hunter. I want you to cut it out. Guilt is a useless emotion. A waste of energy. You have nothing to be guilty for, and I’ve just decided I’m going to spend every day making you so happy you forget all about it, do you understand?”

  The smile got bigger. He leaned in and brushed his lips across mine. “I’ll look forward to that.”

  I knew he was humoring me. Hunter was wracked with guilt. He blamed himself for what happened to me, to us. Jesus, I hated that.

  He’d opened up, told me what he was dealing with, and I was glad. But I was afraid too. If he couldn’t let it go, eventually it would eat him up inside.

  Hunter

  Lulu sat beside me at the bar sipping her Coke. The casino was loud and it as hard to talk, so I sat back and enjoyed the view while we waited. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and alert, hair thick and gorgeous down her back. I didn’t miss the way other men looked at her, even if she didn’t seem to notice. Lulu only had eyes for me. It made me want to drag her against me and beat my fist against my chest like a fucking caveman. My woman was fucking stunning, and I wasn’t the only one to notice.

  My eyes drifted over her curves. Jesus, Lulu had always had an amazing body, but after having our son—the little extra she was carrying—shit, it looked good on her.

  I thought about her lying in my arms this morning, how much I loved waking up wit
h her. She’d scared the shit out of me yesterday, but at least some good had come from it. She’d opened up to me and I had to her. She finally knew the truth, the reason my father had hated me. And hopefully now she got where I was coming from, why I would never let her or Josh down. I’d wanted her to know why I was so sure of my feelings for that little boy, no matter how he was made. I’d been that kid; I knew how that felt. I hoped now she believe it, that I’d never let what happened get between us like my old man had with my mom.

  A grin lifted her sexy lips, and she leaned closer to talk over the noise. “What are you looking at?”

  I turned into her, speaking against her ear. “Your mouth.”

  She pulled back, frowning. “Do I have something on my lips?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet, but you will when we get home.”

  Her face turned pink. I loved that I could make her blush so damn easily.

  She rolled her eyes. “You have a one track mind, Hunter King.”

  I smirked. “You telling me the idea of my cock in your mouth doesn’t make you wet?” Her face got darker and I chuckled.

  She gave me a playful shove. “We’re supposed to be on a stakeout, not indulging in foreplay.”

  “Is it working? Are you wet yet?”

  I was trying to distract her, and I hoped like hell it was working. Though, now I was hard as hell, so my plan had kind of backfired on me. I glanced at the door on the far side of the casino. The game should be over soon. I searched the rest of the room. Zeke was positioned at one of the slot machines, Neco at a craps table.

  Lulu had given us names, the men Pierce used to play poker with in that dump of an apartment building. The same group still played every month, only they’d relocated to a private room at the Lucky Goose Casino in Queens.

  Lulu climbed off her stool and moved in between my splayed thighs, hands sliding up my shoulders, threading through my hair at the back of my neck. “Thank you for trying to distract me, but I’m okay. You’re with me. They can’t touch me. No one can touch me.”

  The woman could read me like a book. She also knew how to destroy me and make my heart beat faster with just a few simple words. “Damn straight.”

  She kissed my jaw, then looked up at me. “And for the record . . . yes, I am wet.”

  My cock grew harder and I groaned. “Why the hell did I start this?” There was no way I could finish it, not for hours at least.

  “You’re a glutton for punishment?” She moved in closer, a wicked glint in her gray eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “But I promise to take real good care of you later.”

  I growled when she threw my words from the other morning back at me. “Woman, you’re playing with fire.”

  “You love it,” she said, again throwing my words back at me.

  My hands slid up to her waist and I grinned when she sucked in a breath. “I look forward to you delivering on that promise.”

  “Not as much as me,” she said, voice husky and sexy as hell.

  Jesus. I loved this, watching her gain confidence. Her strength blew me away.

  The door to the private room opened and my fingers automatically flexed, holding her tighter. “Don’t turn around, babe, but our guys have finished their game,” I murmured. “They’re coming toward our side of the bar. Stay right where you are.”

  Her eyes had grown wide, but there was no mistaking the determination in them.

  Fuck, I loved this woman.

  As they moved by us, I gave her a small nod and she tilted her head to the side, getting a look at the group as they walked our way.

  I kept my arm around her, my mouth an inch from hers. “Anyone?” We were looking for anyone she thought might help Pierce.

  She nodded. “The man in the gray suit. His name’s Stanley. Right after you went to prison, Pierce moved him up the ranks. Him and Derek were his right hands.”

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted the info to Neco. He was up out of his seat a second later, Zeke close behind, following our mark.

  Someone was helping Pierce, someone who for some fucked-up reason still had loyalty for the asshole. Why I didn’t know, but I planned to find out.

  Tonight Pierce was going to get what was coming to him, no matter what it took.

  * * *

  I stood over Stanley, the fucker cowering on the floor, blood and other shit pouring from his twisted nose, arm hanging at an odd angle. I had no idea why the idiot wouldn’t give Pierce up. It wasn’t like his boss gave two shits about him or any of the members of his small army. I would usually respect that kind of loyalty. The guy had taken a beating and had kept his mouth firmly closed.

  But giving your loyalty to a man like Pierce was just plain stupid. Stanley was a low piece of shit, which was another reason his silence surprised me. The guy had a rap sheet a mile long, crimes that included time inside for taking his fists to his woman and daughter. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over my chosen brand of encouragement. As far as I was concerned, the guy more than deserved what he was getting.

  I wanted Lulu and Josh safe, wanted to start our lives together without the constant threat of Pierce Carson springing out of the woodwork and hurting my family. Destroying our lives all over again.

  I was done.

  Gripping the guy’s hair, I tugged him to his feet, then glanced over my shoulder to the bored-looking bastard leaning against the wall.

  “You done, Hunt?” Jude asked. “Is it my turn yet?”

  “Yeah, brother, get your tools. I’m done fucking around.”

  Stanley jerked in my hold, eyes going wide like fucking saucers in his head. “W-what? Tools?”

  I met the guy’s wild stare, let him see all the anger, the hatred inside me, the part of me that would do anything to keep Lulu and Josh safe and not bat a fucking eyelid. “Jude here is a master at extracting information. He’s good at what he does and enjoys the hell out of it. Isn’t that right, Jude?”

  Jude might be an ex-cop and a stand-up guy, but he also had some serious demons riding him, and this fucker sniveling in front of us, with the criminal record he had? Yeah, I could see Jude was fighting every one of them.

  Jude moved in, a pair of pliers in his hand. Stanley whimpered, struggled, then pissed himself.

  “Fucking hate when they do that.” Jude muttered.

  “You ready to talk, Stan?”

  Stanley slumped in my hold. “Yeah, fuck. Yeah, I’ll talk.”

  I dropped his ass back to the floor.

  Thank fuck for that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lulu

  I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling when I heard Hunter come home. I glanced at the clock. 3:00 a.m. He was talking, no doubt to Van, who had brought me home after Neco and Zeke had picked up Stanley. The door shut, then the beep of the alarm came next, followed by his boots on the hardwood floor moving down the hall.

  But instead of coming straight to bed like he usually did, he went to the bathroom. I heard the shower come on. I needed to know what happened. I’d been in knots since I left Hunter. I pushed back the covers. Despite the warm night, I shivered when my feet hit the floor. I hugged myself, my fingers clutching the soft fabric of Hunter’s Ramones tee at my sides, and padded to the bathroom.

  I knocked softly on the door, so I didn’t wake Josh. “Hunter?”

  Pushing the door open, I walked in. He was already in the shower. My gaze went to his clothes lying in a heap on the floor. His pale gray shirt had patches and streaks of deep crimson all over it. I moved closer to get a better look. Blood.

  I gasped and spun around. Hunter was watching me through the glass shower door. I couldn’t see him clearly, so I yanked it open, the soapy water running down the drain a sickening pink. I scanned his body from head to toe, frantically searching for injuries. Nothing.

  I stood there, watching the water change, until it ran clear. It wasn’t his blood.

  He shut the shower off and reached for me. “Lulu . . .”
<
br />   Then I noticed his knuckles. They were busted up. Raw, red, and swollen. I don’t know what I expected. I mean, I knew he hadn’t planned to sit down for a coffee and chat with Stanley, but seeing it, seeing the blood soaked into Hunter’s clothes, the reality of what he’d done hit me hard.

  He stared at me, expression closed off, blue gaze drilling into me. “It had to be done, you know this. There was no other way.”

  I nodded numbly. “I know.”

  He climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips. “Come here, Lulu.”

  I stayed frozen to the spot.

  The muscle in his jaw jumped, eyes locked on me, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. This was how it was done. I’d seen Pierce do it many times. In his world, Hunter’s world, it was just part of the job. My stomach twisted and I spun away, running to the living room. Suddenly the enclosed space of the bathroom felt suffocating.

  The thought of Hunter hurting someone like that? I reached for the back of the couch. I hated it. It took a level of ruthlessness, an unhealthy ability to disconnect from your emotions—both things I associated with my stepfather. I wasn’t stupid. I knew Hunter was capable of a lot of things, things I wouldn’t like. I knew not everything he did was aboveboard, or even legal—but in making the decision to stay with him, I’d chosen to ignore it. I’d refused to think about what Hunter did for his job, and now I’d been confronted with it, in a way I couldn’t hide from.

  Logically, I knew he was nothing like Pierce, but I’d never wanted to believe Hunter was capable of something like that.

  I heard him coming and shot toward the kitchen. I didn’t know why I was running, just that right then I needed to. I got as far as the breakfast bar when his arms snaked around my waist and I was hoisted up and spun around. He sat me on the bar, crowding me, arms caging me in. His closeness forced my legs open, so they hugged his hips, the damp towel rough against my inner thighs.

  He stared down at me, expression hard, pissed. “I told you not to run from me.”

  “Is he . . . ?” Dead. I couldn’t finish the sentence out loud.

  The muscle in his cheek ticked and his blue gaze got darker, harder.