“Couldn’t just kill them?” Nero sounds truly confused. And if his girl had any exes, I’m sure he’d have murdered each and every one.

  Savannah swirls her tongue around the head of my cock.

  “She wouldn’t have liked that.” I smile down at the pretty woman with her face buried in my lap.

  My wife hums around my cock and I can’t take it anymore.

  I reach over to my phone and end the call.

  “Fuck, Baby. You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you?” My abs bunch. “Just strolling in here and putting my dick down your throat.”

  Now that the phone is off, Savannah starts to make noise. Lots of noise, moaning around my length. Slurping my fucking cock.

  Gripping her head, I pump her up and down, pushing myself into her throat.

  “You like this, Wife? You like when I control you like this? You want me to fuck your throat like this?”

  She moans louder and her hand lets go of my dick as I shove myself deeper.

  Savannah’s hands grip at my thighs.

  “Are you gonna swallow me down? Are you gonna make me feel good and take it all, Baby?”

  She blinks at me, trying to nod her head.

  She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  Sitting there with my dick in her mouth while she listens to what I’ve done.

  Every time I think she can’t possibly get any sexier…

  “Breathe through your nose, Honey. Relax for me.”

  Savannah’s eyes slide half-closed and she does as I say. Relaxing her throat, letting me slide even deeper.

  And that’s all I can handle.

  Her throat constricts around me, her moan vibrating down my length. And my cock erupts, pouring my release into her belly.

  CHAPTER 72

  Savannah

  King pulls his cock free from my mouth.

  “Jesus, Savannah.” King drops his head back against the couch as his hands slide free from my hair. “You sucked the life out of me.”

  My body tries to laugh, but I’m still a little breathless.

  “That was…” King starts to say but his phone rings.

  We both look over to where it’s sitting next to him.

  King rubs a hand down his face. “Shit, I forgot about this call.”

  “Answer it.”

  He shakes his head. “Not until I get you off.”

  I use his thighs to push myself back to standing. “You can owe me.”

  Before he can argue, I lean down and press my lips to his.

  Instead of minding where my mouth just was, King’s tongue delves between my lips.

  He starts to slide his hands around my waist, like he might pull me down onto his lap, so I reach my hand out and tap the phone screen, answering the call.

  “Hello?” an older man’s voice sounds through the speaker.

  King’s lips smile against mine. “Brat,” he whispers, before letting me go and picking up the phone.

  I don’t fight my smile, because the one still on King’s face has my chest feeling lighter.

  Before I leave the office, I detour to his desk.

  Finding a pen and a scrap of paper, I scrawl the price doubles after four hours. Then leave it on his desk for him to read later.

  I can feel his eyes on me as I walk out, but I don’t look back.

  When I came in here, I was just planning to talk to King. Maybe slice my heart open and tell him about all the feelings I’ve been having for him. Explain why I’ve been avoiding him, throwing myself into work, since the night of my show.

  He was just so much that night.

  He was everything.

  He was the family I’ve always wanted.

  And when I still wanted him just as much the next morning, it freaked me out.

  Freaked me out because, apparently, I’m okay knowing that he’s killed a man.

  Knowing that it doesn’t just not bother me. I truly don’t care.

  I should care that the man I’m living with has murdered people. Probably lots of people. And yet, when I walked into his office, and saw him sprawled out on that couch, all intentions of talking went out the window. Because he looked like an overworked CEO in some magazine spread. And it was hot as absolute hell.

  My eyes were automatically drawn to the front of his pants, and it reminded me of our last time together, and how good he’d felt in my mouth.

  I was ready to enjoy it. Knew I would like it. But I hadn’t been ready to be that turned on by the act.

  My King.

  Canine footsteps trot up from behind me.

  “Hey, Duke,” I greet the dog that I’ve come to adore just as much as his owner. “Shall we go back to work?”

  Duke knocks his big head into my hand and we head through the house to my studio. Where I plan to occupy myself until King can pay me back.

  CHAPTER 73

  Savannah

  “Baby, wake up.”

  Some sort of light penetrates my eyelids, so I squeeze my eyes shut harder.

  “Come on, we gotta go.” King shakes my shoulder.

  “What?” I press a hand over my eyes. “Go where?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I part my fingers and squint at him. “What time is it?”

  He glances at the bedside clock. “Just after two.”

  King doesn’t look upset, or worried. So, we’re not under attack, and the house isn’t burning down around us.

  I drop my hand, annoyed. “What possible reason could you have for waking me up at two in the morning?”

  “I owe you one.”

  Sex?

  “What are you––”

  “Up.” King cuts me off.

  “Fine.” I shove the covers off.

  “You got five minutes.”

  I stand next to the bed, narrowing my eyes at King who’s still in his black dress pants and black button up. “Have you not gone to bed?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Is something wrong?” I yawn through the question.

  King bends down, putting his face near mine. “Four minutes, Savannah.”

  I roll my eyes. “So bossy.” I shuffle toward the bathroom but stop. “What am I supposed to wear?”

  We both look down at my skimpy pajama set. And I watch King’s tongue slide along his upper lip. “I’ll pick something out.”

  I’m going to ask him what he means, but he turns away, heading into the closet.

  Still half asleep, I quickly use the bathroom, and my toothbrush is still in my mouth when King steps into the bathroom.

  I finish with my teeth, then hold out my hands for the clothes he picked.

  He gives me a black knee-length jersey dress, but makes no moves to give me any more privacy.

  “No bra?” I ask.

  King shakes his head.

  I yank off my sleep shirt and pull the dress on, then pull my sleep shorts down my legs.

  I’d gotten dressed for bed hoping to get lucky, so I wore a pair of cute lacy panties under my shorts, rather than nothing. Which I’m extra glad about now because King didn’t bring me any underwear.

  King uses both hands to hold his shirt open, and taking the cue, I slip my arms through the sleeves and let King do up the center buttons, covering my braless cleavage.

  The side of his mouth curls up. “Let’s go.”

  “Umm…”

  Trepidation builds as King turns off the road we’ve been traveling on for the last several minutes.

  It’s dark. Like really dark. No street lights. No signs of life.

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but when King woke me up in the middle of the night to pay me back I assumed maybe we were going somewhere sexy.

  Like a hotel. Or a rave or something.

  Our headlights bump around on the narrow gravel road before landing on a closed chain-link gate.

  This is not a rave.

  King flashes the high beams twice, and a man I hadn’t noticed steps forward, unlocking the gate from the inside.

  “King?”

  He still doesn’t answer, just takes his foot off the brake and we roll forward.

  Panic starts to creep up my spine.

  He wouldn’t be taking me out here to kill me.

  We’re past that. Right?

  Crushed cars come into view, lining both sides of what must be some sort of driveway.

  Oh fun, we’re in a junkyard.

  “Husband,” I try to keep my voice calm. “If you don’t tell me where we’re going, I’m gonna jump out of this moving vehicle and sprint into the darkness.”

  “You won’t do that.”

  “Oh, won’t I?”

  He shakes his head. “First, the doors are locked.”

  My hand immediately closes around the handle, and, true to his word, the door doesn’t open.

  “Second, you promised you wouldn’t run away again.”

  He sounds so unconcerned, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  “And third, we’re here.”

  My eyes jump to the windshield, and the single story building in front of us.

  It looks like it’s made out of that cheap corrugated metal you sometimes see on barns. Only this isn’t a barn. But it’s not a business either. It’s nothing. It’s a blank building, in the middle of a huge junk yard, in the middle of nowhere.

  A big hand lands on my thigh, making me jump.

  “Relax,” King’s tone is gentle, a complete contradiction to our surroundings.

  “Are you––”

  King’s fingers tighten on my leg. “I hope you’re not about to ask if I brought you here to kill you, because that would really hurt my feelings.”

  I snap my mouth shut, because yeah, this seems like the kind of place you’d take someone to kill them, and that is what I was going to ask.

  In the dark, I can barely make out King’s eyes, but I don’t have to see them to know the color.

  He leans closer. “Trust me.”

  This feels like a test. But I’m going to pass it, because I do trust him.

  “Okay,” I nod my head.

  Ahead of us, the solid metal door on the front of the building swings open. And Nero steps out, backlit with a dim, yellowish light

  King gives my leg a final squeeze before he shoves his door open and climbs out.

  I try to follow him, but my door doesn’t open, reminding me I’m still locked in.

  When King circles around the front of the vehicle, I see Nero make a hand motion, which King responds to by holding one finger up, in a hold on gesture.

  Then he takes the final steps and pulls open my door.

  Trust.

  I place my hand in his offered one and let him help me down, keeping his hand in mine as we approach the building.

  The same ballet flats I wore the night we met crunch over the gravel, the noise mixing with King’s much larger footprints, and filling the silence of the night.

  With the light behind him, I can’t make out Nero’s expression until we’re a couple of feet away. And to say he looks surprised would be an understatement.

  Okay, so definitely not some sort of Kill Savannah plan.

  Nero’s brows are as high as they can go. “Uh…”

  “Is it ready?” King asks, ignoring the look on his friend’s face.

  “Yeah, it’s ready.” Nero’s eyes slide over to me, then back to King. “What the hell––”

  King pulls me forward with him, interrupting Nero. “Good.”

  Nero puts his hands up, stepping backward through the doorway. “I’m not gonna ask.”

  Okay, so not murder, but whatever is about to happen is enough to stun Nero.

  That can’t be a good sign.

  It takes my eyes a moment to adjust when we enter the building, but when they do, I can see that the interior matches the exterior. Dingy. And it’s full of random crap. A pile of buckets. A stack of pallets. A cracked counter with an old cash register.

  Everything looks frozen in time, like it hasn’t been touched in years. Maybe a decade.

  Except for the path of footsteps worn into the dust, leading from the front door to––I swallow––the pair of cellar doors that have been left open in the center of the room.

  Nero walks to the edge of the hole in the floor and lets out a quick whistle.

  I grip King’s hand harder when footsteps echo from the cement stairs leading up from below ground.

  King’s thumb strokes against the back of my hand.

  First one, then three more men I don’t recognize, file up the steps.

  I feel like we’re standing in their way, but King doesn’t move. He holds his ground, making the men walk around us.

  As they step past, I notice they all dip their heads to King, but purposefully keep their eyes off of me.

  “It’s all yours.” The way Nero keeps saying it’s makes the hair on my arms stand up.

  King slides his hold up from my hand to my wrist and moves my hand behind him, until my palm is on his back. “The stairs are narrow and steep, so I’ll go first. But keep your hand on my back for balance.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but my throat has gone so dry I can’t speak, so I just nod.

  My fingers tremble as I keep my hand pressed to his back, listening to the sound of everyone exiting the building, as King starts to descend.

  My heart is pounding so hard, I’m afraid it might just stop.

  The stairs are steep, like King said, so my hand slides up between his shoulders. And I clutch the fabric of his shirt as I begin to follow him down.

  CHAPTER 74

  King

  I keep my steps slow as we go lower underground.

  This might be a mistake.

  But it might be amazing.

  I just can’t give Savannah any time to overthink it.

  CHAPTER 75

  Savannah

  It gets darker the further we go, the light at the top of the stairs fading.

  But after a few more steps, I notice a new glow, one coming from below.

  “Last two steps,” King tells me over his shoulder as he hits the bottom.

  There’s a small landing, maybe four feet long, at the bottom of the steps. Beyond that is an open door and another dimly lit room.

  King turns to face me, his bulk blocking the room beyond.

  His fingers lift and he starts to undo the buttons. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are?”

  King’s voice is husky and my nipples practically spring to life.

  I shake my head. “I don’t think you have.”

  “Then shame on me.” He pushes the shirt off my shoulders. “Because you, little wife, are what wet dreams are made of.” King reaches behind him and drapes the shirt over the door handle.

  I want to touch him. Want to undo his shirt like he just did mine, but a muffled sound from the creepy basement room reminds me where we are.

  “What was that?” I don’t know if I’m breathless from fear or lust. My brain, my body, has no idea what to focus on.

  King leans in close. “A fantasy I didn’t know I had until I met you.”

  His lips brush mine. Once. Twice. And on the third time, he presses his to mine. Hard.

  And I cave. Opening my mouth to kiss him back.

  King groans at my submission, and his hands slide down from my shoulders to my breasts, cupping and squeezing them through the thin fabric of my dress.

  My hands go back to their original goal, and start working on King’s shirt, until it’s unbuttoned all the way.

  I press my palms against King’s stomach, feeling the muscles beneath his skin flexing at my touch.

  “Grab my dick, Baby.” King rolls his hips forward and I drop my hands to comply, palming him over the material of his pants.

  He’s so thick. So hard.

  King releases his grip on my chest to rip off his belt and shove a hand down the front of his pants. He leaves them on but adjusts himself so that his cock is pointing up, the tip sticking out of the waistband, a bead of precum glistening in the faint light.

  He swipes his thumb across the tip, gathering his essence, and brings the drop up to my mouth.

  “You’re gonna come twice tonight.” He drags his thumb across my lips. “Once before I get inside of you. And once while I’m pumping you full of my seed.”

  Sweet mother of god, I’m about to come now.

  I lick my lips, tasting him. Flooding my panties.

  “Can you do that for me, Savannah? Can you be my good girl and come twice?”

  I nod.

  “I want your words.”

  “Yes, My King.”

  King’s grin slithers across my skin.

  “Fucking perfect.” King dips down, gripping me by my ass, and lifting me into his arms. “You are fucking perfect.”

  His mouth fuses to mine and warmth swamps me when he hugs me tight against his body, and I can feel his length against my core.

  I’m soaked. And the pressure on my clit pushes a moan out of my throat.

  With his big hands spread across my ass, his fingers work their way under the edges of my underwear, until his hands are against my bare skin.

  His tongue is still invading my mouth and the constant rumble in his chest feels like heaven against my nipples.

  Gripping my ass, his fingertips spread me, making me squirm in his grip, as the fabric of my underwear rubs against my back entrance.

  Through all of this, King keeps rocking me against his length and I’m embarrassingly close to coming already.

  “King!” I pull my mouth from his to gasp for breath.

  Up here, at his height, I can see over King’s shoulder into the room behind him. And the man within.

  My body tries to stiffen, but I’m still wrapped around King, and he just hugs me closer. Still rocking me on his length.

  The man is sitting in the middle of the room, tied up and gagged, with a taut chain wrapped around his neck and suspended from the ceiling.

  “Trust me,” King whispers against my ear.

  But there’s a man. Tied up in a basement.