Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

Why did you have to trick me into thinking that there could be more?

“I told you.” His tone loses the nonchalance. “Sex isn’t my endgame. And I’ve been patient to communicate that. You should know by now that I’m not a patient person, so don’t push me.”

I’m tempted to scream obscenities and push him off, but that will surely trigger his predatory side.

I’ll have to be smart about handling this situation.

Seriously, I shouldn’t be burning neurons to get him to act like a decent human being, but this is what I get for being involved with someone who disregards normal.

I force my body to relax and suck in a few calming breaths. “What have you been patient for?”

He lifts an eyebrow, apparently taken aback by my course of action. I like thwarting his plans. He’s better to handle when he’s taken off guard.

“For you to want me,” he says with that air of casualty.

“Why is that important?”

“It just is.”

“You don’t care about the moral repercussions and you sure as hell aren’t scared about the criminal consequences, so why didn’t you just take it? Why didn’t you rape me that day?”

As soon as I say the word ‘rape’, I regret it. I don’t want to put ideas in his screwed up head. But then again, he’s a fucking lunatic, so he probably had worse ideas than that.

He arches an eyebrow. “Do you want to be raped by me?”

“What? No! Seriously? Is that your only deduction from what I said?”

“What am I supposed to deduce?” He lowers himself on his elbows so his chest grazes my breasts. “You just said that you wanted me to take from you.”

“I asked why you didn’t take from me, not that I wanted you to.”

“Semantics.”

“You’re delusional.”

His fingers find my hair, stroking it gently. Too gently. “You know, the more you say I’m delusional, the surer I am that you’re the delusional one. You want to deny yourself? Fine. You want to think you’re a politically correct person? Also fine. You can lie to yourself all you like, but you don’t fucking lie to me. You don’t rub yourself all over my dick then pretend you don’t want me.”

My lips tremble and I thin them into a line.

“I’m trying to get to you.” His nose drops to my neck, and I suck in a cracked breath. “I’m really trying to be fucking nice here, but if you keep hiding in that ice castle, I’ll have no choice but to conquer.”

My fingers dig into his T-shirt, wanting to inflict pain. “Do I even have a choice in this?”

“You always have a choice with me. A queen or a pawn.”

Of course. There’s no in-between with him. “Either I become the most important piece or the most insignificant one. How… poetic.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You play chess.”

“How do you know that?”

“Those who don’t play think that the king is the most important piece because the game is over when he dies. They don’t know that the king is useless without his queen.”

Now, that is… poetic. Who knew someone like Aiden cared about the queen?

“We can play?” I ask tentatively. I’d take any option to dissipate the tension and get him off me.

“We have to take care of you first.”

Of course, he wouldn’t fall for that. Dickhead.

“Take care of what?”

“Have you heard about rape fantasy?”

My breathing catches in my throat. Fuck, fuck.

How the hell does he know about that? I mean, I read about it, I even so shamelessly searched it in the porn site bar. I felt sick to my stomach for the entire week after. How could I be interested in something that ruined women’s lives?

How could I be so deprived to fantasise about it?

Maybe Aiden is my karma. Maybe I’m being punished for ever thinking about that.

A spark shines in his eyes. “You have heard about it.”

“No,” I murmur turning my head to the side. “You’re the only one who’s interested in these perverted things.”

God. I’m such a hypocrite.

“You should look it up.” He grabs my chin and makes me face him. “I think you’ll find it useful.”

“Useful how?”

A wolfish grin curves his lips. He knows he got my interest. Bastard.

“There are people who like the rush of adrenaline that comes with rough, out of control sex. So they like being forced into it.”

“People like to be raped?” I thought it was just a fantasy, not practical… right?

“No. They like being forced to have sex. They usually plan it with their partners, so it’s technically not rape.”

“Is that the excuse you tell yourself?”

“I don’t tell myself excuses. I’m completely assertive of who and what I am. I know I’m different, I just don’t care.” His finger traces down my cheek. “The excuse is for you since you seem to so desperately need it.”

“I do not.”

“Fuck, Elsa. Stop being so damn stubborn.”

“Why don’t you leave me alone?” I hate the tremors in my voice. “Why don’t you let me go?”