Reign of a King: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Kingdom Duet Book 1)
Reign of a King: Chapter 18

“Over there?” I mean to snap, but my voice comes out low.

Why the hell do I sound turned on?

I’m not.

It doesn’t matter that his suit jacket moulds to his body with the sitting position or that the slow way he eats with those veiny hands is like watching a food porn show or that –

“Do you have a problem following simple instructions, Aurora?”

“Don’t you dare question my worth, Jonathan.”

“Then come here. Now.” The edge in his authoritative tone leaves no room for negotiation.

Now I know why people fall at his feet — willingly or unwillingly. He’s the type of person you can’t say no to.

Especially in my case when he has a metaphorical gun pointed at my chest.

Or that’s what I tell myself as I throw the napkin on the table and walk to him with angry steps.

I ignore how my legs slightly shake or how, with every movement, friction builds at my core. The idea that he’ll repeat yesterday wraps around my neck like a tight noose, only it’s not strangling me. Or maybe it is, but it’s not the hurtful type.

Far from it.

Goosebumps break on my skin as a sudden thought assaults me out of the blue. Will my arse be so sore that I’ll feel it for the rest of the night? Or when I sit the next day?

My nipples tighten against my bra. I’m so glad it’s padded enough that the evidence of my arousal isn’t visible through my thin white shirt.

Snap out of it, Aurora.

Stopping a small distance away from him, I try to ignore his sensual scent and cross my arms over my chest. “I can’t eat if I’m face down, genius.”

“If you don’t lose the attitude, you’ll get that arse spanked so hard, you’ll be able to feel my touch on your skin for fucking days.”

My spine jerks at the dark promise in his words. Instead of repulsion, a rush of heat invades me from head to toe. My scalp tingles and my feet wobble as if the world is about to drop me off. My hand wraps around my watch on my wrist to root myself in place.

His lips twitch as he tilts his head to the side. “You want that.”

“I do not.”

“Do you crave that sting of pain, wild one? Did your first taste turn you into an addict?”

“I said I don’t.”

“The reddening of your cheeks, the parting of your lips, and the way you keep touching your watch say otherwise. If you don’t want to be so readable, school your reactions. Your tells are a sure way to have your weaknesses exploited.”

Damn him. How come no one’s attempted to kill this man before? It’s been less than a week since I’ve been caught in his orbit and I already have the urge to strangle the life out of him.

“Because of your attitude, I won’t give you what you want.” He taps his lap. “Now, sit down.”

I ignore the pang of disappointment settling at the bottom of my stomach as I lower myself to his lap. Despite the hardness of his thighs, the position isn’t as uncomfortable as I originally thought it would be.

The only thing I can’t get out of my head is the way his woodsy scent envelops me. It’s like smoke, thick and impenetrable. In this position, he’s engulfing me with his massive build. We’re so close that his warm breaths trickle on the sensitive skin of my nape, eliciting a shudder down my spine.

Damn.

I didn’t sign up for this intimacy. Sure, I knew he’d eventually fuck me, but the games and the push and pull are beyond anything I’ve experienced before.

How could he get me into a puddle of foreign emotions by just making me sit on his damn lap?

“Now, eat,” he orders, his ferocious gaze never leaving my face.

There’s something about the way Jonathan speaks that gets to me. All the way to my bones. His voice is that of a ruler, a warlord, or anyone who’s out for destruction.

But at the same time, his authoritative tone causes my thighs to clench. The strength in it creeps under my skin and grips me by the throat.

Not making eye contact, I motion at the plate. When I speak, my voice is still in that foreign breathy range. “I don’t have my utensils.”

“Use mine.”

“But —”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I do not like it and neither would you.” The rumble of his voice so close to my ear tempts me to close my eyes so that I can get lost in it for a moment.

Instead, I grab the fork, thankful my hand doesn’t shake as I twirl spaghetti around it and take a bite. Although I’m chewing, I barely taste anything.

It’s impossible to.

All my senses are homed in on the warmth radiating off Jonathan’s chest at my back and his thighs underneath my arse. The burn from last night revives, pulsing with the need for…what? More? What the hell is wrong with me?

“Eat,” he enunciates. “And don’t stop.”

I take another forkful, trying to ignore him by focusing on the food.

Jonathan’s fingers latch on the buttons of my blouse and he undoes them until he reveals the skin below my bra. He runs his long fingers across my pale skin with cruel gentleness.

“Lace today,” he muses. “No ugly purple this time?”

“What are you doing?” I hate the neediness and the confusion in my tone.

“Keep eating.”

“I-I’m already eating.”

“You’re not doing it enough.”

“How about you? Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Who said I’m not? I’m having you for dinner.”

The chilling tone sends zaps of a foreign sensation down my back. Before I can focus on that, Jonathan wraps his hand around my throat, his long index finger pressing on the hollow skin. It’s not hard, but it’s firm enough to confiscate my attention.

My pulse skyrockets under his touch and something utterly strange happens as he glides his thumb on my pulse point, threatening to choke me, but not exactly going that far.

My underwear.

It feels slick.

Holy. Shit.

He didn’t even inflict pain, right? And yet here I am, already delirious with a pleasure I can’t wrap my mind around.

“Every time you make me repeat myself, you’ll be punished. Every time you show attitude, you’ll also be punished. I have no tolerance for disobedience.” His free hand reaches to my bra and yanks it down, exposing my breasts. He pinches my already taut nipple. “But I already told you that, didn’t I?”

I gasp, nearly dropping my fork.

As if my reaction falls on deaf ears, he runs his finger over the assaulted nipple before twisting it again.

“Jonathan…” My moan echoes in the silence of the room like a mantra.

“You’re not eating.” His voice drops in range as his thumb squeezes on the pulse point in my throat. “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”

I lift my next forkful, not even sure if I got food on it or not, and shove it in my mouth.

My hands are flat out shaking as he continues his assault on my nipple. No idea how Jonathan does it. All I know is that I’ve never felt this before.

I’ve never craved something as much as I’m burning for the foreign sensations he’s injecting into my body.

I’ve never craved someone I hate so much.

Jonathan angles my body using my throat so my back meets the hard ridges of his chest. My breasts thrust in his face and he wraps his lips around a nipple. His slight stubble creates throbbing friction as he sucks and bites down on the tender flesh. His fingers continue torturing my other nipple while his other hand holds my throat hostage.

I shudder, the fork clinking on the plate as a thousand sparks hit me in the womb.

His movements come to a halt as he speaks in a raspy voice against my skin, “What did I say?”

I quickly pick up the fork, feeling like a kid learning how to eat as I roll the spaghetti on the tines.

The assault on my nipple turns me delirious. My core is slick and pulsing, close to the detonation point I reached last night, but not exactly.

“These are quite sensitive, aren’t they?” He slides his tongue back and forth on the rosy peak. “Does it hurt?”

I’m munching slowly so I don’t choke on the food, but I manage a nod.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

I nod again, not even sure why I’m doing it.

“But it’s not enough. You want more.”

I stare at him with a wildness that beats under my skin like an animal’s. Does he have telepathic powers?

Jonathan releases my nipple and slides his hand down my stomach over my dishevelled, barely buttoned blouse.

I suck in a fractured breath, but I make sure to take another bite of food. This is so fucked up, but I have no will to stop it.

I’m caught, hook, line and sinker. Instead of fighting and dying soon, I opt to enjoy one last swim.

Jonathan reaches into my skirt and underneath my underwear. His long, masculine fingers leave scorching hot trails on my bare skin as he circles my clit.

“Mmm. You’re wet.” His appreciative tone makes me close my eyes in pure bliss.

I’ve never, ever, tried to be wet for someone before. I recognised my numbness and rolled with it. If anything, I thrived in it. This is the first time I’m glad I am.

Am I a masochist or something?

Jonathan pinches my nipple and swollen clit at the same time.

There’s no warning this time. No danger alarm or even the contracting of my stomach. Heat drags me into its burning clutches. I scream and explode all over his hand as if it was always meant to be.

This fall is like bungee jumping without a rope, yet it feels like the jump of a lifetime. One I’ll never return from.

Oh, God.

I’m still catching my breath, trying and failing to regulate it when Jonathan releases my throat and motions at the plate. It’s empty. Just like my insides.

The bastard manipulated me into eating it all.

“Good girl.” He smirks, then pushes me off him so I’m sitting on the chair, stands, and leaves.

I remain there, my clothes rumpled, my core pulsing, and my nipples aching.

And yet, all I want is more.

I’m so screwed.