God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1) by Rina Kent

“Me not fucking you.”

“No, I want something else.”

“Look at you learning how to negotiate. Let’s hear it. What do you want?”

“Let me think about it.”

“Do it while you’re on your knees, baby.”

I ended up blowing him until my jaw hurt, then he made me swallow every last bit of his cum while looking down on me with that dark, seemingly calm lust.

He thrust two fingers in my mouth and fucked my tongue with the rest of his cum. “That’s it. Swallow it all. Miss a drop and I might not be able to keep my promise about not fucking you.”

Then he brought me breakfast in bed. No kidding. He’s the one who fixed it, too, and he made me eat it all because, apparently, I’m shit at keeping up with my body’s needs.

And now that I’m thinking about all that, a pulsating throb starts in my core and refuses to go away.

Killian retrieves a cigarette and stuffs it between his lips, then fishes for his Zippo.

I crunch my nose, “Didn’t you say you’d quit if I kept your hands and lips occupied?”

I expect him to laugh it off, but he simply throws the cigarette out the window and opens his palm. “Hand.”

Swallowing, I place mine in his.

A small smirk curls his mouth. “Now lips.” When I hesitate, he glances at me. “You weren’t so shy when you first kissed me last night.”

“Ugh, shut up.” I peck him on the lips and I hate how much I enjoy it. I hate how much I like the feel of his lips, how they open and suck and nibble. I hate the realization that I’ve never really enjoyed kissing until now.

When I feel like I’m getting too into it, I push back and clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t you have classes, too?”

“I don’t have to attend them all, and I certainly don’t have to worry about a professor putting me on his shit list.”

“I bet they all think you’re an exemplary student.”

“I am an exemplary student. How do you think I got into med school?”

“By manipulating a poor soul or two?”

He chuckles, and he actually sounds amused and it’s easy on the ears. Not like his usual sadistic laughs that are a manifestation of his devil side. “I can’t manipulate my way into med school.”

“You can cheat.”

“Not really. It’ll eventually catch up to me. Besides, I skipped two years. God level is hard to achieve.”

“Your arrogance is staggering.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“My genius neurons and I choose to take it as one.”

I stop myself before I roll my eyes again and make him start an annoying lecture. “Is it really hard to be a genius?”

“It’s effortless, actually. I don’t have to think before acting. Everything comes naturally to me.”

“Then why did you say God level is hard to achieve?”

“People usually relate better to hardships and they certainly react well to smokescreens, half-truths, and well-crafted lies.”

“Not everyone.”

“That’s what you say now. Try being hit with a hard truth and see if you don’t wish you never knew about it.”

“I’d still seek the truth. Yes, it might hurt, but I’d find a way to come to terms with it. Being sad and struggling for a while is infinitely better than living a fake life.”

“Words. Words.”

“I mean every one of them.”

“Hmm.”

“What is ‘hmm’ supposed to mean?”

“Just hmm.”

“Wow, thanks for the clarification.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Were you born this annoying or did it come with time?”

“A little bit of both. Though my dad has annoying traits, so I might have the gene.”

“Why am I not surprised that you bad-mouth your father?”

“I’m not bad-mouthing him. I’m just relaying a fact.”

I stare at his unchanging expression. He doesn’t seem bothered by talking about his father, and it’s the first time he’s spoken openly about his parents.

“I gather you have a strained relationship with your father?”

“And how, pray tell, did you gather that?”

“Earlier, you said Gareth is Daddy’s golden boy, so that means you aren’t. You also said he has annoying traits. Oh, and you never posted a picture of just the two of you on your Instagram.”

“Stalker alert. Didn’t know you went through all my posts, baby.”

My cheeks burn. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“Your relationship with your father.”

“There’s no relationship to speak of. He never liked the idea of me or the fact that I exist.”

“Surely you read it wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with telling my mother that they should’ve stopped at my dear big bro—also spelled boring—because I’m defective.”

A body shiver goes through me. Though Killian’s tone remains the same, I can feel the change in his demeanor. The subject rubs him the wrong way, and I want to know more.