Page 80 of Sicko

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Karli’s lips curl between her teeth as we both stand. “Ganja makes you real emotional, huh?”

I snort. “No.” Turning around, I’m about to tell her that I just needed to get it out when Royce’s glare pins me in my place. My heart sinks.

“Mmhmm,” she whispers, smacking me on my ass. “Good thing, huh?” I gulp past the nerves that are clenched around my throat. Damn it, Karli.

As soon as she’s out of sight and it’s just him and I, he gapes at me. “You what?”

“What, what?” I blurt innocently, taking a wary step down, bringing me to where Karli was seated. I need a plan of escape. I may not know who this Royce is anymore, but the way he hunts is the same. I can see it in the way his eyes harden angrily, like carved stone.

He counters my step. “You fucking had feelings for me like that and never thought to say anything?”

“What do you mean, Roy! You know I did!” I’m almost certain he knew. “Or why else would you antagonize me every chance you damn well got!” Another step down.

Another forward. “Duchess, I’ll give you a head start to run, in an attempt to have me calm my shit down, and after that, your ass is mine.”

I spin around quickly, my legs jolting me forward as a rush of adrenaline pulses through me. Arms wrap around my waist, hauling me off the ground as I scream loudly, my hand covering my mouth. “Roy! Put me down!”

He doesn’t. Not until he has taken a few more steps. When he finally does, I’m in direct view of everyone that’s outside the clubhouse at the front near the fire pit. It’s dark, with nothing but Royce’s large body caging me in. The ripples of his muscles flex in his arms as he cages me in.

He cocks his head, his voice low enough to raise the dead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” I say, and I don’t know what lie I should bring up. He doesn’t touch me, but his presence is enough to caress every single inch of my untamed soul. His eyes alone eat up the space between our bodies like a starved wolf, overdue for his feast.

“Because isn’t enough.”

“Would it matter?” I sigh, glaring up at him while leaning against the metal wall. I’ve come to gather we’re inside of a small shed. It smells of motor oil and fresh grass clippings. There’s no door, so if someone really wanted to, they could probably see us in between the lawnmower and garden tools.

“What do you mean?” he asks, and as soon as he begins running the tip of his finger down the front of my throat, I inhale a deep breath to contain the euphoria that crashes over me, ready to crush me into tiny little pieces.

“I mean, you would have still left…”

He snaps, pinning me to the wall by his hips, his hand coming back to the front of my throat. “Told you to shut the fuck up about that, Duchess.”

“Well maybe!” I protest around the tightness of my throat. “I don’t fucking want to!” His lips are on mine in a flash and sweltering magma rolls through my bloodstream, my legs wobbling beneath my weight. He picks me up from the backs of my thighs and wraps them around his waist while never breaking the kiss. Slamming me against the wall again in a crash, his mouth laps up every bit of flesh he can find. My hands are in his hair, around the back of his thick neck, and down to the front of his cut. I glide my fingers over the patches on the front as he tears open my leather jacket and ducks beneath my crop, his head dipping lower until his mouth latches on to the nub of my breast. He tugs the sensitive bead beneath his teeth and a fierce sting aches through them.

He pauses, standing back to his full height. “Who the fuck let you have fake tits?”

Oh shit.

“Ah, Mom did.”

“What?” he snaps. “Why the fuck would she do that?”

I shrug. “I complained that mine were too small.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Wrapping my fingers around the collar of his cut, I pull him in closer. “Just fuck me.”

Just like that, with those simple words, he’s unbuttoning my jeans, his hand diving beneath. As soon as I feel his palm over my bare pussy, I moan, my head tipping back. His thumb presses against my clit in slow circles as he rests his head in the crook of my neck. “Do you know how much I want to fucking kill you right now? All these years I could have had my mouth on this pussy, and you deprived me of that.” He increases pressure, his circles slowing. “I’m going to fuck you hard and fast here, and then later, you’re going to wish I was still fucking you how I’m about to.”


Tags: Amo Jones Romance