Shame rose in my throat, a bitter and nauseating cocktail. He had never given me any indication that he would deal with his problems like that and especially after our heart to heart yesterday about people judging him as a brainless, violent thug, I felt sick for jumping to that conclusion.
“I’m sorry,” I said with my aching heart between my lips.
When he didn’t move, I placed a hand on one of his fists and ran my fingers lightly over the golden hair across his knuckles.
“That was wrong of me,” I continued softly. “I spoke hastily but honestly, it had nothing to do with my real impression of you.”
“Yeah, and what’s that impression like?” he asked, leaning down closer so that the tendons and muscles in his arms popped out in stark relief.
I licked my lips because I couldn’t lick him.
King’s eyes tingled like bee venom over my mouth.
My eyes skittered to the door and back to him.
Taking that as the sign it was, he reached out to slide his palm around the back of my neck under the thick fall of my hair. It felt oddly vulnerable, his big palm wrapped around my slender neck against my hummingbird pulse, his fingers slotted between the vertebrae of my spine effectively locking me in stasis so I was forced to look into his eyes and nowhere else.
“Tell me,” he urged.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I think King Kyle Garro is a man who plays at being a boy to dupe the dumb, a predator to scare the weak and a pretty boy to manipulate the trite.”
His eyes flashed and a low rumble worked through his throat. “And how do I act with Cressida Irons? Who am I to her?”
“You’re a King who makes her want to be his rough and tumble Queen,” I breathed out before I could stop myself, our whispered conversation lending a confessional tone to our words.
I couldn’t lie. I didn’t want to.
Damn the consequences.
“Screw detention, come with me right fuckin’ now,” King ordered roughly but it was the edge of desperation in his voice that had me dutifully following him.
It was only when he moved towards the labyrinthine rows of books in the back of the library and not the door that I came down from my King-induced high.
“No way am I doing anything with you in the freaking library.” I tried to tug my hand out of his hold with both of mine to no avail. “King!”
He ignored me until we were in the sweet, paper scented depths of the library, sequestered away in Row WXYZ.
“Oh my God,” I gasped as King turned on me.
He slammed me up against the shelves, anchoring me to the rows of books with his lean hips. His growl vibrated against my lips as he took my wrists in one of his big hands and pinned them above my head.
Before I could regain my breath, I tasted his. His mouth claimed me, searing the secret his apple poem had promised me into the delicate skin on the inside of my lower lip. He bit me there, scraped his teeth over it again and again until I writhed against him.
He broke away with a snarl to say, “You think just ‘cause you’re the teacher, I gotta follow your rules? Well, you’re wrong, babe. Between you and me, I’m the fuckin’ authority figure. If I gotta fuck you in the library to show you what’s what, I’m only too happy to fucking oblige.”
I licked my dry lips, fighting to remind myself why I should say no to this, to this inappropriate man in this highly inappropriate place but my sex was throbbing a heavy, steady beat that scrambled my good intentions. I rubbed my sticky inner thighs together to try to alleviate the ache but King stopped me by kicking my legs further apart with one booted foot. Before I could protest, his hand was between my legs, slapping the bare skin of my wet inner thigh so hard it stung then cupping my entire mound in his huge palm.
“This cunt is wet because of me. It’s exactly my depravity, my wrongness that gets these sweet juices flowing. You like me bossing your sweet ass around, don’t you?”
“No,” I said, but it came out breathy.
There was a haze around everything but King, his hand on my cunt, his breath on my face and his eyes, those huge pale blue moon eyes, boring into my face, daring me to lie to him.
They flashed at my blatant untruth. I gasped as two of his thick, callused fingers plunged beneath the placket of my underwear and curled inside me, pressing hard against my front wall. My knees collapsed at the intensity so that the only thing holding me upright was the strong hand pinning my wrists and the two fingers impaling me.