Reign of a King: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Kingdom Duet Book 1)

There’s sore and there’s the inability to move.

I’m in the latter category.

No kidding.

I rolled to my side to silence the alarm and stopped when stinging pain exploded through my whole body. It’s worse between my thighs and on my arse.

That was half an hour ago.

I probably need to call in sick or something. Jonathan broke me with his cock. I knew that thing wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near me.

Whenever I shift and feel the sting of pain, memories from last night rush to the front of my mind and my core tingles as if he’s still inside me. Like he’s still owning every inch of me and driving into me with feral power.

The control and ruthlessness he emanated still cause hot blood to rush through my veins. I never knew I needed that savage brutality until I had Jonathan – or he had me, to be more accurate.

I kind of passed out after we were finished. I don’t recall how my arse was cleaned from his cum, but I faintly remember moaning at the feel of soft cloth on my behind and between my legs.

Then there was the distinctive click of the door as his woodsy scent disappeared from around me.

It’s not that I want him to cuddle me or anything. We have separate rooms for a reason, and while I’m never allowed in his, I liked the arrangement of having my own space.

So why do I feel abandoned?

That’s stupid – utterly so. What the hell was I expecting? A bloody connection or something? I’ve already decided that it won’t happen in this lifetime. Just because Jonathan revived my body, doesn’t mean I’ll want other things from him.

I stopped wanting things that day when I stared up at the pouring sky and begged to be woken up, yet never was.

My guilt doesn’t help either.

The fact that I desire Jonathan when I shouldn’t cuts through my ribcage like the knife from that day. But this phantom pain is more stabbing than the real one. It’s not only a betrayal to my mission to unravel the truth, it’s also a betrayal to Alicia and to who I am.

For the life of me, I can’t stop my body from craving him, no matter how much I try to.

And I have tried.

Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.

Sighing, I reach for my phone, I’ll call in sick and work from here. Layla will shower me with her ‘daddy’ jokes if I go to work walking like I’ve been thoroughly fucked.

Not that I can even get up, let alone shower so I can go to work. Maybe it will get better with time.

The door opens and I think it’s Margot. But then I recall she always knocks before entering my room. The only one who barges in without warning is the tyrant of the house.

Sure enough, Jonathan strides inside with that infuriating confidence that he wears like a second skin.

He’s dressed in an elegant black suit, his jacket closed. Who knew there was an entirely different world hidden underneath that brutally elegant look? The cloth moulds to his well-built frame, outlining his hard muscles. Muscles I ogled last night, touched, and grabbed onto while —

I shut the door on those thoughts, refusing to get caught up in him all over again.

“You’re five minutes late for breakfast and you didn’t answer my email.”

People normally say good morning, but Jonathan reminds you of how you breached his rules.

The man is such a charmer. And I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible.

When I don’t reply, his tone shifts to that authoritative one. “Have you become a glutton for punishment, Aurora? Is that it?”

I face away from him. “I’m not feeling well.”

“What do you mean you’re not feeling well? You were fine last night.”

“Well, I’m not today.”

“You still have the attitude, so you can’t be too unwell.”

The bastard. “Well, I am. Now, leave me alone.”

“You need to quit the habit of chasing me out, Aurora. That will never happen unless it’s on my terms. Understood?”

I purse my lips but say nothing.

“What did I say about answering my questions?”

“Fine. Okay. As you wish, your majesty.”

“I thought you weren’t feeling well, yet it seems like you fancy a mouth fuck.”

“I’ll never let you do that.” I might like the pain he lashes out, but degradation is another thing altogether.

“I’m the one who decides whatever the fuck I want to do with you. After all, you’re my property.”

“I’ll never do it willingly, so if you’re in the mood to force me, go for it.”

He narrows his eyes, but seems to let it go. It’s the deceptive type of reassurance he shows now and again. As for what he’ll actually do? Yeah, no one knows that.

“Now tell me, why are you feeling unwell?” He sits on the edge of the bed and places his knuckles on my forehead. “You’re not warm.”

If I wasn’t before, I am now. I suck in a breath at the way his skin burns on mine and swiftly pull away.

“Can’t you leave me alone?”

“That’s a no. You should’ve learnt by now that I always get what I want, so you might as well tell me.”

“Arrogant prick,” I mutter under my breath.

“I heard that. And I’m not arrogant, I’m goal-oriented. Arrogance comes from false beliefs I don’t have.”

That is true. Jonathan is the type who never starts anything unless he already knows the end result.

“I’m waiting, Aurora.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“You also have work and your black belt friend must be throwing a search party, but you’re not making a move to go. This is your last chance to freely divulge information before I resort to my methods.”

“And what are those? Spanking me?”

“Not in your current situation, but I’ll take a rain cheque on that.”

“You’re impossible, did you know that?”

“That doesn’t answer my question. You’re wasting both our time.”

“I’m sore, okay?”

He pauses, but his expression remains blank, non-existent even. “Huh.”

Huh?

I don’t know what I expected, but ‘huh’ wasn’t it.

“How sore are you?”

“Enough that I can’t move.”

“Should you see a doctor?”

“No. It’s not as bad as that.”

“Then what do you need?”

“Rest, Jonathan. Ever heard of the word, or was that erased from your workaholic dictionary?”

“Very funny.” His face is caught in that snobbish state, which means he doesn’t find it amusing at all.

He pulls the covers off my body and I yelp as he wraps his strong arms around my back and picks me up. The room tilts off balance as he carries me effortlessly, bridal style.

There’s a faint recollection of us being in this same position before. Did he also do it yesterday?

Were those words that came to my mind his?

I must be imagining things. This is Jonathan, after all. He doesn’t feel — at all. Even if he does, he’s perfected the art of deception so well, no one sees past his cool façade.

I wince, but the palpitations of my heart take me more by surprise. “Jonathan? What are you doing?”

“Finding a solution.” He marches to the bathroom, and I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror. Me, entirely naked and small in his arms. Him, suited up and looking every bit the king from his last name.

My hair is dishevelled and my eyes are slightly puffy from sleep. I don’t only look fucked, but also like I enjoyed every second of it.

Jonathan gently lowers me into the bathtub and I wince as my hip bone touches the cold surface.

His attention slides to me at the sound I make. “Endure it for a bit.”

“Is that your answer to everything?”

“You have to endure it to get past it, Aurora. That’s how it works.”

That’s an interesting philosophy, but… “That doesn’t mean it goes away, you know.”

“That’s why you have to endure and take action. It doesn’t make a difference if you only endure. If anything, that’ll hurt you in the long run.” He turns the tap on the slightest bit, tests the water on his fingers, and lets it fill the tub. And me.

My muscles relax a little as the cool water loosens the ache between my legs and the soreness in my arse.

He reaches over my head to the countless bath products and retrieves one that was already here when I moved in.

“I use the apple one.” I motion to the bottle beside it.

“Always an objection.” He shakes his head, although he does comply and pours the apple-scented one.

Then he watches with unnerving silence as the water fills the tub and the bubbles cover me to my breasts.

I squirm under his scrutiny. While I’m good with handling silence, I’m rubbish when it comes to Jonathan’s. Considering his reticent nature, it always feels like he’s communicating something with silence.

And it’s not usually good. Jonathan’s silence is the type that’s meant to keep you on your toes.

“You can go. You don’t have to keep watching me.’

He doesn’t move or say anything. He remains at the edge of the bathtub, his arms crossed over his chest, and studies me intently, as if reading imaginary words off my face.

The intimidation that is Jonathan King knows no bounds. It’s like he was born to play the role of a bastard with no soul.

The fact that he has his emotions trapped in a vault, or worse, they don’t exist at all, makes him unpredictable.

There’s no way in hell to figure out what he’s thinking about, and I guess that’s what turns me into this confused ball whenever he’s around.

Despite steering clear of puzzles, there’s no denying how much I love solving them. The idea of digging my fingers into something and figuring it all out fills me with a rush of adrenaline.

The thought of never being able to do that with Jonathan is what’s throwing me into an endless loop with no way out.

“You have work, right?” I mutter.

“It can wait.”

“Did you just say work can wait? Isn’t that like blasphemy in your work god manual?”

He raises a brow, probably because of my sarcastic tone, but he doesn’t comment on it. “I own the work. It’s not the other way around.”

“Are you telling me that you could stop working tomorrow if you choose to?”

“I could, but I won’t. There’s no fun in hanging around when you can use those hours to be productive.”

“More like destructive,” I mutter to myself.

“If you have something to say, say it out loud. Hiding makes you seem like a coward, and you’re no coward, Aurora.”

His words send a tingle of pride down my spine. Not that I need Jonathan to tell me I’m no coward, but the fact that he’s probably always thought that way about me says something. No idea what, but it does.

He reaches a hand to my face and I stiffen. Is he going to stroke my cheek?

Now that I think about it, Jonathan hardly touches my face — if ever. The only time he’s done so was earlier when he checked my temperature. He’s never attempted to kiss me either. Not that I would peg Jonathan as the emotional type who would do that, but —

Why am I even thinking about it? First, the tightness in my chest because he left last night. And now, the fact that he didn’t touch my face or kiss me?

Instead of touching me, Jonathan reaches behind me and shuts the tap. My stomach sinks in with something different to relief.

He removes his jacket and lays it on the towel hanger, then undoes his shirt’s cuffs and rolls his sleeves up to expose his taut arms with masculine veins.

By the time he crouches beside me, I’m watching him as if he’s an alien. “What are you doing?”

He flops a hand in the bubbly water, right between my legs like he knows exactly where that is.

His strong fingers grab my aching thigh and rub long circles with a tenderness that I never thought Jonathan was capable of.

My muscles loosen with every passing second and his touch turns more soothing, pleasurable even. My head lies against the edge of the tub and my eyes flutter closed.

My legs open of their own accord the more Jonathan massages my inner thighs, his fingers inching towards my sensitive core, but not touching.

A low moan fills the air and it’s with utter horror that I realise it’s mine. I sink my teeth into the cushion of my bottom lip to keep any further sound from escaping.

Jonathan’s pace slows, but he doesn’t stop. “You like this.”

I remain silent, refusing to admit my depraved thoughts.

He grips me by my sex, making my eyes shoot open. The intensity that greets me in his darkened features turns me breathless.

“If you like something I do to you, I expect you to say it. You don’t get to deny it while still enjoying it. We’ve already established that you belong to me.”

“You’ve established that. I never agreed to it.”

“Yes, you did. Not with words, but it was written in big capital letters when you screamed my name as your cunt strangled my dick. It’s right here with the way your folds are inviting me inside even when sore.”

My cheeks redden at the explicit image he paints in my head. Damn him and how easily he can rile me up.

When I say nothing, Jonathan removes his hand from between my legs and stands up. He pulls out a towel and dries his hands on it with sure, firm movements.

“T-that’s it?” I don’t know why the words escape my mouth. I was supposed to ask that to myself.

“That’s it. You don’t deserve something you don’t admit to enjoying.” He throws me an indecipherable glance. “I expect you in the dining room in fifteen minutes. Every minute you’re late will be taken out on your arse.”

And with that, he leaves the bathroom.

A frustrated scream bubbles up in my throat, but I trap it inside and flop under the water, letting it cover me whole. Not that it does anything to cool the flames he left behind.

Damn Jonathan King to the darkest pit of hell.

And because I want to strangle him — not in a sexy kind of way — I waltz to the dining room five minutes late.

The bath actually helped. My muscles are less sore, but they still ache and I feel him inside me with every step I take.

I’m dressed in my light pink sleeveless dress, my hair is loose, and I put on red lipstick. I need all my confidence today. And maybe I want to get on Jonathan’s nerves as much as he gets on mine. After all, he does stop and stare whenever I paint my lips red.

By the time I join Jonathan, he doesn’t appear in a good mood. He watches me with that furrowed expression that usually means disapproval.

“You’re five minutes late.”

“I had to get ready.”

“Excuses only make your case worse, not better, wild one.”

I lift a shoulder and pull my seat. Jonathan tuts and I sigh. Of course.

Making a detour, I go straight to him and sit on his lap. I hate how familiar — and dare I say, comfortable — this seat has become.

“Why do you always call me that?” I murmur in an effortless attempt to not focus on his presence at my back.

“What?”

“Wild one.”

“You’ve been wild since you were a child.”

“I was not.”

His lips twitch in that almost-smile of his, but he returns to a neutral expression soon after.

Jonathan grabs a small piece of bread and places it at my mouth. “Now, eat.”

I wrap my lips around it, but when they brush against his finger, a jolt of electricity blooms between us.

Our gazes bind and it’s like they can’t get unlocked. Jonathan’s dark grey eyes almost turn black as I keep my lips on his finger for a second too long.

Heat spreads beneath my clothes, forming goosebumps over my skin and ending straight between my thighs.

“Careful, Aurora. You’re tempting me to fuck you right here and now. After I punish you for those five minutes of tardiness, of course.” The raspiness of his voice and the words he says turn me into a bundle of inexplicable emotions.

I don’t remove my lips.

Shit. It’s like I’m opening my legs for him all over again. The fact that I’m still sore doesn’t even matter anymore.

Jonathan’s lips turn up into a seductive smile that worsens the state of my ruined knickers. “Is that an invitation, wild one?”

The piece of bread has melted in my mouth, and I swallow it, the sound loud and intrusive in the middle of the silence.

Before I can say anything, the door to the dining room barges open.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”