Cruel King (Royal Elite #0) by Rina Kent

His hold falters from around my neck and just when I think he’ll come inside me, he pulls out. “Next time, I’m coming inside you.”

Next time, I’ll be on the shot.

Harsh breaths leave me with gratitude. Levi doesn’t listen to orders or requests, but he pulled out for me.

His brows are still drawn together as he grabs his hard, throbbing cock in a fist as if he’s mad at it.

I scramble to my knees between his legs. My hand covers his hand and I lick my lips. “Let me.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Why?”

“Because I want to.”

After a beat of watching me, he lets go. I take him in my hand, rubbing his length up and down.

He sucks in a breath. “Fuck, Astrid.”

“Tell me what to do.” I’ve never done this before, but I want to do it right for him.

“I need your mouth on it, princess.”

Holy shit. Why are those words such a turn on?

Tentatively, I lick the pre-cum dripping from his crown. That makes him groan, his eyes darkening and fluttering. I repeat it, licking the side before I take him all the way in. It’s a challenge since my mouth is small and he’s so big. I lick him tentatively. Levi jerks up, cursing again, so I do it again and again.

He threads his fingers in my hair, slightly pulling and pushing. “That’s it, princess. Keep doing that.”

I do.

There’s a rush about having him at my mercy like this. I should’ve been doing this since the beginning.

I pick up my pace, sucking him hard and fast. He curses, tightening his hold on my hair as his cock spurts down my throat. I try to swallow it all as he looks down on me with that darkened gaze. He tastes of breakfast and a hint of his natural, sweet scent.

He wipes the corner of my lips and I climb atop of him, crushing my mouth to his. I want him to taste himself on me like he gives me a taste of myself all the time. A groan rips from him as he deepens the kiss.

For what seems like hours, we remain entangled around each other making out slowly, too slowly. It’s like a different type of fuck.

Apparently, Levi has insomnia, but I must’ve worn him out, because he yawns and laughs saying it’s the first time it’s happened in months.

Still keeping an arm around me, he reaches the other towards the table. He snatches a pack of cigarette and takes one then retrieves the lighter.

His eyes are droopy, tired, but there’s still that spark of intensity and lust. It makes me hyper aware. Like super aware of everything. Of the smell of sex in the air. Of his tousled Viking hair. Of his hard skin against my soft one. Of his muscular leg between mine. Of his semi-hard cock against the tender flesh of my thigh.

But most of all, it makes me aware of him. This beautiful, beautiful, guy who’s silently battling against his insomnia and the shadow of his father’s mental illness.

I want to hug him and tell him it’s going to be okay.

But it never is, isn’t it?

It’s never okay to lose a parent this young, and the scar will be there forever. It’s buried too deep, too far that it’s impossible to reach it.

All I can do is stop him from doing stupid shit.

I snatch the cigarette away. “This poison will kill you.”

His fingers snake a path along my shoulder. “It will, huh?”

“Uh-huh. So be a good King and stop smoking.”

He smirks and even that is lazy. “What will I get in return?”

“Jeez. Do you always have to get something in return?”

“Always.”

I scoff. “What do you want?”

He’s silent for a moment, and I can see him running a thousand scenario in his head. “Open your mouth.”

That makes my thighs clench and spasm with need. “W-why?”

“You want me to quit smoking, don’t you, princess?”

I nod.

“Then open that pretty mouth.”

I do. Like a hormones-driven idiot, I just do.

Anticipation coils at the bottom of my stomach like a hungry, starved animal. He turned me into a freaking animal.

Watching me with those droopy eyes, he clutches the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. It’s crazy how even his fingers look so sexy right now. They’re long and hard like the rest of him.

And then he stuffs the cigarette in his mouth. I find myself craning my head against his arm to get a better view of that firm, kissable mouth. How his teeth tug on the cigarette. How his lips close around it.

Can I be that cigarette, please?

He brings the lighter to his face and sets the cigarette on fire. The smell of nicotine mingles with the scent of sex and sweat in the air.

“You said you’ll quit –”

He stuffs a fingers against my mouth, shutting me up. Then he removes his finger. “Open.”

With furrowed brows, I do.

Levi takes a drag of smoke, but doesn’t release it. Instead, he clutches my jaw, squeezing it between his fingers. His lips hover inches away from mine as he breathes nicotine down my throat.

Holy shit. That’s hot.

And… burning.

I mean, the nicotine burns at the back of my throat. I cough, but he swallows the sound with a hard kiss. I feel like that helpless cigarette in his mouth. Tugged by his teeth and devoured by his lips.

But he tastes like that cigarette.

He tastes like me.