Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,33

because of the bastard.

My phone dings, and I lunge for it expecting it to be Kim.

Aiden.

Wait. Aiden?

Of course. He had my phone for a whole day after all. If he can crack the code, he can save his number.

I’m tempted to toss my phone and crack it to pieces, but curiosity gets the better of me.

I swipe the screen to read the text.

Aiden: Asleep?

I contemplate sending him a ‘fuck you’, but decide to ignore him instead. I seriously don’t know what he’s thinking by texting me.

It’s not like we’re old friends or even acquaintances.

Another text comes in.

Aiden: I’m not.

Obviously.

My phone dings again.

Aiden: I’m picturing you naked, screaming my name while I pound into your tight little pussy.

A tingle warms its way down my body and between my legs.

Aiden: If you don’t reply, I’ll keep telling you about my fantasies.

I purse my lips. He won’t get to me.

Aiden: I’m thinking about your pouty lips around my dick as I face-fuck you while you stare up at me with teary blue eyes.

The explicit image draws a shudder from my spine.

Aiden: I miss your full tits and how perfectly they fit in my palms. Are your nipples sore?

My nipples harden against the soft cloth of my PJ’s and I cross an arm around them as if he can see them.

Aiden: I know you’re not asleep, sweetheart. Last chance. You’ll regret it if you don’t reply.

When I remain silent, he sends another one.

Aiden: As you wish.

He stops sending texts. I wait for five minutes, but nothing comes out. My hands tremble as I put the phone on the nightstand.

Why did he stop texting?

Nope. I’m not allowing him to get under my skin.

In the morning, I wake up with my hand between my legs.

Again.

Shit.

I don’t usually remember my dreams, but I recall glimpses of this one. Dark grey eyes. Tears in my eyes and something thick in my mouth.

I take the longest, coldest shower I ever had and stumble downstairs.

“... maybe she’s remembering.”

I halt near the corner of the stairs at Aunt Blair’s worried voice.

“You’re overthinking.” Uncle’s sounds muffled due to something he must be eating.

So he did come home last night.

“Maybe we should try Dr Khan’s recommendations.” My aunt again. “She’ll be eighteen soon.”

Dr Khan’s recommendations?

And what does my age have to do with anything?

Dread lodges at the pit of my stomach. I don’t like where this conversation is going.

“Stop overthinking, Blair.” Uncle scolds. “I’ll go see if she’s up. She’ll be late for school.”

Aunt mumbles something, but I don’t hear it. I make a deliberate sound of my feet flapping against the floor as I round the corner with a big smile on my face. “Morning!”

I kiss Uncle on the cheek and let Aunt kiss mine. I drop my backpack on the chair and dig into the jam and butter. Special jam without much sugar and special non-animal butter.

My life is based on healthy food.

Appetite escapes me, but I force down tiny bites. If Aunt Blair notices I’m not eating, she’ll freak.

“Is Kim late?” Aunt asks.

“No, she has to pick up Kir this morning. I’ll take a taxi.”

“Nonsense. I’ll drive you, pumpkin,” Uncle says.

“No. You drive recklessly.” Aunt smiles. “I will.”

The bell rings. Must be Mrs Robinson next door. She loves baking and giving her muffins to neighbours. Although Aunt doesn’t let me eat them.

I take the chance to distract Aunt from my barely eaten sandwich. “I’ll open!”

Uncle gives me a look. “I will do it. Finish your breakfast, pumpkin.”

Busted.

“Why don’t you wear your hair down?” Aunt asks, smoothing my ponytail.

I take a sip of the orange juice. “It’s a hassle.”

Truth is, I never liked my hair down.

“Pumpkin?” Uncle’s voice sounds bemused as he appears at the threshold. “A friend came for you.”

“A friend?” Did Kim change her mind?

But then again, Uncle Jaxon doesn’t call Kim a ‘friend’.

My friend appears and I choke on the orange juice.

Aiden fucking King is standing in our dining room.

Chapter Twelve

I don’t believe in extraterrestrial beings but at the moment, I would rather have an alien standing in my dining room instead of Aiden fucking King.

I’m too stunned to react. The toast is suspended mid-air with my jaw almost dropping to the floor.

Aiden saunters to the middle of my dining room with confident, nonchalant steps.

People feel awkward — or at least reserved — when entering a place for the first time.

Not Aiden.

His gleaming eyes fix mine with so much ease like all this is an everyday occurrence.

The school’s jacket stretches over his defined shoulder muscles giving him an