The Dark One (Vicious Lost Boys Book 2)

As he promised, Pan draws a bath and I circle his room while he does.

This is the space that is most him.

The walls are painted a dark emerald green that reminds me of the green of the Neverland forest. The giant four-poster bed is covered in a charcoal gray linen duvet that is ridiculously sumptuous between my fingers.

In the corner, there’s the wingback and a table and lamp. The dresser with trinkets displayed on top. A little fairy carved from beach wood. A fossil. A delicate skeleton leaf trapped in a glass jar.

As the water fills the tub, I scan the books stacked up around the perimeter of the room. Some of them aren’t labeled and it’s those that I suspect might be journals, and the urge to flip one open and read Peter Pan’s deepest, darkest thoughts is overwhelming.

But I don’t.

I wouldn’t dare.

Shoved in amongst the journals are old leather-bound books with spines that look like ribs. Brave New World. Lord of the Flies. Crime and Punishment. Even Pride and Prejudice.

I love that he and Vane read so much.

“Get in here, Darling,” he calls from the bathroom once the tap has been shut off.

I cross the room and poke my head in through the cracked doorway. Pan’s bathroom is big and carved from stone. Several wrought iron lanterns flicker with light from their hooks embedded in the walls.

Pan stands beside the deep, wide tub as steam ribbons around his naked body.

Holy good god.

His cock is fully erect, his balls taut against his body.

As he breathes, his abs contract, shadowing the deep lines between each muscle.

He’s already dipped his hand into the water and raked his fingers through his hair so that it sticks up in the most roguish way.

Two minutes ago, I was overwhelmed with the urge to riffle through his books. Now I’m overwhelmed with the urge to run my hands over his naked body.

He comes over to me and his cock digs into my belly and my pussy tingles at the obsceneness of it all.

“Arms up,” he commands and I do as he says. He lifts my dress off and as soon as my breasts hit the air, my nipples tighten and he takes in the sight of me with those bright blue eyes of his, causing a shiver to roll down my spine.

“Off,” he says.

There’s only one piece of clothing left on my body, so I don’t need a hint as to what he means. I hook my fingers into the waistband of my panties and slide them off and step out of them.

He offers me his hand and when I take it, he helps me over the rim of the tub. The water is warm and smells like Pan, like summer nights and dark secrets. There is a slight, sharp burn at the cut on my foot as soon as I hit the water, but the pain quickly fades.

Pan climbs in on the other side and the water rises up to meet him. He props his arms on his knees. Beads of water run down his biceps, following the curve of muscle.

I don’t think I will ever be quenched of my thirst for Peter Pan.

He reaches across the tub, grabs my wrist, and yanks me into him.

A short exhale escapes me as he turns my back into his chest and nestles me between his legs. His hardness presses against me and a tingle of anticipation pools in my clit.

“Do you take baths with all the girls on the island?” I joke because I’m suddenly nervous and excited all at the same time.

I know how to take what I need from men.

But Peter Pan is no man.

And unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

He is a mirage I am endlessly chasing and I’m terrified of both reaching him and never reaching him.

Beneath the surface of the water, he wraps his arms around my waist.

“Only the filthy ones.” His voice is rough and ragged at my ear as his hand drifts up, his thumb grazing the sensitive underside of my breast.

Despite the heat of the water, I’m still pebbled, desperate for his touch.

His other hand goes in the opposite direction, stopping once he’s reached my inner thigh.

I breathe out excitedly.

His fingers ghost further up and I tremble in anticipation.

He leaves my breast and I whimper with the loss, until his hand wraps around my throat and forces my chin up.

“Did you like being used tonight, Darling?”

I pant out my response. “Yes. Maybe more than I should.”

“I want you to be our good girl and take our cocks whenever we’d like.”

My clit throbs beneath his words.

“I can do that.”

“Can you?”

“Yes.”

“I want you always full of our cum like a good little whore. Do you understand, Darling?”

I whimper as his hand tightens around my throat. “Yes.”

“That’s my good girl.” He ends the torture and slides his fingers down my slit. I whimper and buck, but he holds me fast.

My clit is throbbing and somehow he’s brought me close to the edge with barely any touch at all.

“Pan,” I breathe out.

“Yes, Darling?”

“Fuck me.”

Without warning, he spins me around in the water and hoists me up on the stone surrounding the tub. I hiss at the sudden cold on my ass.

He reaches behind me and I quiver with anticipation. When he pulls back, there’s a cloth in his hand. He gets it wet and sudsy and brings the soft fabric to my breast. The soap glides over my nipple.

My heart thumps in my throat and I swallow hard.

“Are you filthy, Darling?” he asks me.

I prop myself up on my elbows, head hung back, eyes closed. “Yes.”

He goes to my other breast, teasing at the nipple before rolling it between his fingers, causing me to jolt from the ache.

I’m buzzing between my legs, so ready for him to take me.

When will he end the torture?

The cloth trails down between my breasts, down the flat plane of my stomach.

“Spread your legs for me,” he orders and I do as I’m told.

He squeezes the cloth in his hand and soapy water drips over my pussy.

“Oh god,” I say to the ceiling. I’m tingling so much, I worry I might come at the slightest bit of touching.

“When you are under my command, I am your god,” he says.

The cloth caresses at my clit and the pleasure blooms at my core.

“Yes. Pan. Fuck.”

He just barely lets the edge of the fabric tease at my opening, then up and around my clit. It’s a feather touch but enough to make me tremble and damn near beg for more.

I reach over without thinking, desperate for release, but he bats my hand away.

“You are not allowed to touch,” he says.

The water sloshes as he rises up on his knees. I part my lids, watching him, the muscle and tendons twining in his shoulders as he moves toward me and when he crests the surface of the water, his cock is rock hard.

He sinks forward and bends me in half, bracing the backside of my legs against his chest. His cock slides up my wet slit, the head hitting my clit. He pumps forward and back a few times, the heat of him, the touch of him, sending me careening.

“Don’t stop,” I say on a moan.

“As if you can tell me what to do.” He hooks an arm around my thighs, caging me against him, squeezing my thighs together, creating the perfect amount of friction and tightness between us.

He rocks again and blood pounds through me as the flame flickers at my core.

“Please, Pan. Please don’t stop.”

He picks up the pace, fucking my clit.

The tension builds.

Sweat glistens on his forehead as water drips down his body.

“You’re so fucking wet, Darling,” he says.

“Yes,” I pant out and squeeze my thighs harder, driving him against my clit.

“Where do you want me to come?”

“I get a choice?”

“Just this once.”

“Inside of me.”

He laughs above me. “That was the wrong one.”

He pumps harder, faster. I want him inside of me but I don’t think he’ll give in to me.

Everything with Pan is always a dance between what I want and what he’ll give me. And I love every fucking part of it.

“I’m close,” I tell him because I don’t want to come alone.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice labored with his thrusts.

The pressure builds and my body tenses up, but Pan holds fast to me, keeping up the pace and the rhythm.

“Oh, fuck. Yes,” I say. “Just like that.” He’s growing harder by the second and I can feel every ridge of him against my slickness. “I can’t hold on anymore.”

“Look at me, Darling,” he commands. “I want to see the look in your eyes when you come all over my dick.”

I pant out hard and open my eyes for him.

There’s a blazing hunger in his gaze as he watches, as he pumps against me.

“Go on,” he orders. “Come for me.”

I couldn’t hold on another second if I tried.

The wave crashes through me and I cry out, muscles and nerves blinking.

Instinctively I want to tense up, curl up, but Pan keeps me in place as he chases his own pleasure, teeth gnashed around a guttural groan.

My nerves fire and I tremble beneath him as he comes too. He comes all over me and I can feel the hot seed of Peter Pan making a mess of my clit, dripping down the center of me.

When he crashes over the other side and I stop quivering beneath him, he finally pulls back and takes in the sight of me, legs spread for the king.

“My filthy little Darling whore,” he says, his voice hoarse as he catches his breath. “Just the way I like her.”