Summer Camp

Chapter Eighty Three

Dishes  smashed on my counter from our last encounter
Pictures snatched out of the frame
Bitch, I scratched out your name and face
What is it about you that I can't erase, baby?
When every promise don't work out that way, no no, babe

~ Beyonce, Sandcastles

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**Alex's POV**

I was sore, my legs were shaking, and my vagina ached. My high faded away and all the adrenaline went with it, leaving me tired. I was almost naked laying on the King's wooden desk. My back was pressed against the cold wood. I was only in my lacy bra and panties. The King sat in his rollie chair, stroking my hair lightly.

"You okay," he asked, twirling a piece of hair in his fingers.

"Yeah," I told him, looking to the otherside of the room. I didn't know how I felt, I was so confused. I should be mad, I should scream at the King. I should be mad at myself for letting the King have sex with me. I shouldn't have let him.

"What are you thinking about," asked the King, he grabbed my chin, pulling it towards him so I was looking at him. He was only in boxers, his nice chest still out. I wanted to touch it, I wanted to run my nails across his bare skin and go for round two.

"Nothing," I told him, looking at his face. I had always seen him a beautiful, but today he looked different. He looked loving and passionate. He had wronged me so many times, but maybe he could make it up to me. Maybe he would let me see my family again.

"What are you thinking about," I asked the King, glancing up into his deep swirling eyes.

"Nothing that you need to worry about," he said, letting my chin go. One hand wrapped up in my hair, and with the other, he lightly touches my collarbone. He traces the bone gently, watching my body.

"Do you regret it," asked the King suddenly. He doesn't look up from my collarbone, but I can see the question in his face. He was serious, he wanted to know.

"Regret what," I asked him, confused.

"I don't know," says the King, "Anything."

"Of course I do," I told him, "I regret stuff, everyone does."

"Do you regret accepting the offer," asked the King, "Or having sex with me?"

I open my mouth to answer, but immediately close it. The King wanted a real answer, I could tell by the look on his face. I didn't answer and a pained look appeared on his face. Could I really hurt this man by rejection? 

"I should go back to Cayla," I whispered, not looking at the King. 

"Yes," he said, "You should." The King sat my hair, back down, and took his arm off of me. He left the office, leaving the robe hanging on the back to the rollie chair. I slowly get up, my legs still a little shaky and sore. 

I grab the robe for the second time, and wrap it around myself. I slowly made my way for the door. I open the heavy wood, and make my way down the stairs. The guards look at me, smiles on there face. I know that I am the one they mock, but it doesn't bother me. If I told the King that I didn't like them he would torture them. I give the two guards a sugar-sweet smile, before flashing them my favorite finger.

"Go fuck yourselves," I tell them. The look amused, but don't say anything to me. I readjust the robe, and go into my room.

Cayla is laying down on my bed reading a magazine. 

"Hi," she says when she notices me. She sets down the magizine, and sits up.

"Hey," I tell her. I walk into the bathroom looking for an signs to hickeys. I look at my neck where a large purple bruise is forming. I sigh, and go back by Cayla.