Cruel King (Royal Elite #0) by Rina Kent

I laugh. Asking for her sketchpad is only a formality. I already went through it a few times when she was struggling to finish her laps in the park.

Hell, when I don’t sleep, I spend the entire night watching the sketch I stole at her house and imagining her concentrated expression.

“Pick something else,” she tells me.

“But I want the sketchpad.”

“Pick something else or you’re not getting anything.”

“Let’s start by dancing in the rain.”

“Start?” She chuckles. “What happens afterwards?”

“See, that’s your problem, princess. You need to learn how to stop thinking about afterwards.” I pull her into me by the waist, my morning wood pressing into the bottom of her stomach. “Live the moment.”

A soft gasp tears past her lips and she stares up at me with wide, lust-filled eyes. “You’ll ruin me.”

I lick her upper lip over her cupid bow. “I promise you’ll love every second of it.”

Her breath hitches. “What if I don’t?”

“You’ll never forget the experience, anyway.”

“Can’t you be nice?”

“I am fucking nice.” I suck her lower lip into my mouth.

She pulls away, smiling. “You can lie and tell me you’ll try and take it easy on me.”

I laugh and for the first time in years, the sound is genuine. “I’ll never take it easy on you. If anything, I’ll be more persistent.”

“More?” She all but yells. “There’s freaking more?”

“You’ve seen nothing yet.” I carry her in my arm and place my forehead against hers as the rain beats down on us. “You can take this as a good princess or fight it. It’s up to you.”

I whirl her around, and she squeals, her arms snaking around my neck in a steel hold like a child with someone they trust. And then she’s laughing and giggling so hard, I can’t help smiling back.

“Can’t you at least tell me what we’re doing afterwards?” She shouts between giggles.

“Do you really want to know?”

My lips find her neck and I suck on an unmarked spot in her collarbone until her breathing crackles.

“Once we’re done dancing in the rain, I will…”

“You will what?” The need in her tone makes me hard.

“I’ll fuck you in the shower, princess.”

Her pupils dilate and she swallows audibly as her body leans into mine.

A part of her might still fight me, but soon enough, she’ll learn that there’ll be no escaping my hold.

Uncle was right. I destroy everything.

But this is the first time I want to keep something instead of shattering it to pieces.





37





Astrid





It’s the queen who sacrifices herself for the king.



* * *



I’m panting as Levi and I throw on some clothes after stepping out of the shower.

And by some clothes, I mean he puts on black boxer briefs and I wear his team’s jersey.

That was… wow. Mind blowing is an understatement to describe what just happened in the bathroom.

I feel so used and pleased.

Give it to Levi to make me feel completely different emotions at the same time.

“Number ten never looked so damn good.” He drags his darkened eyes from my breasts to where the T-shirt reaches mid-thigh.

I pull my hair up. “Is that so?”

For the love of Vikings. Am I flirting with him right now?

“You know how it’d look better?”

“How?”

“On the floor.”

He reaches for me, but I duck out of his grasp, giggling.

I run down the hall, my bare feet slapping against the wooden flooring.

Thundering footsteps come from behind me. Fear and excitement erupt in my stomach, and I run faster, harder. Just like the prey Levi wants.

Two arms surround me from behind. I squeal as my feet leave the ground and he turns me around.

His hot, husky words tickle my ear. “You can run, but you can’t hide. I’ll always catch you, princess.”

“I know,” I pant, my heartbeat almost leaping out.

“Then why did you run?”

Because maybe I like the feeling of being chased. Maybe I like walking on the thin line between sanity and insanity with him.

I love the way my heart pounds as if I’m about to have a heart attack.

He brings me to the edge and I love the view.

“It’s a secret,” I laugh and continue running downstairs.

He catches me by the kitchen, making me squeal.

The only reason he releases me is because we need to eat.

He pulls back a stool, “Sit.”

I take my seat looking around the red and black decorated kitchen. It’s open bar style with a closet-like fridge and marble counters.

Then my eyes trail to the most beautiful thing in the kitchen.

His chest is too sculpted, I can easily count each one of his six abs. His muscles flex with every move — like he can crush anything in his path. He can even crush me if he chooses to.

The black boxer briefs outline his strong football thighs, barely leaving anything to the imagination.

Then there’s that V-line.

Now, I understand why all the girls are obsessed with that male perfection. It’s not about the V, it’s about the place it leads to.