Dark queen, p.16
Dark Queen, page 16
Amusement tugs at his lips, releasing in a boisterous laugh. When I don’t return it, his eyes narrow. “You’re joking, right?”
“No,” I tuck my hair behind my ears, trying to retake my composure. “You need a wife.”
Dark brows tug down. Amusement creases his lips. “And what is it you need?” He tilts his head, his tongue flicking out to dampen the thick bottom lip. I hate and love how beautiful he is.
Bastard.
“You get me back in Swan, pay my fees and some extra for the inconvenience you’ve caused me…” I slip the fallen satin over my breast, holding it in place, “the cost of living, my supplies, etcetera.”
Tracking my actions, he dissects every inch of me. “That’s an awful lot you’re asking for.”
“It’s what you were paying for before, for nothing in return. Why didn’t you tell me you were my beneficiary?”
He turns and moves to a cupboard, pulling out a fresh bottle of whisky and two glasses.
Shovelling ice in his glass from a canter, he pops the lid off the bottle and fills them.
He brings one to where I’m standing, an offering.
“What happened to your dress?” he gestures with his finger at the broken strap.
“I’m not here to talk fashion,” I snap, throwing the glass he gave me at him. With catlike reflexes, he ducks. The glass splinters against the unit behind him, decorating the office floor in crystal shards.
Within seconds, I’m bent over his desk, my dress pushed up around my waist. My panties tear in his hands as he yanks them from my body.
His palm comes down on my bare ass cheek, and I quiver.
The slap rings out through the room, and an exhilarated giggle chokes from my chest, angering him further.
He pants like a dragon breathing fire. I suck in a breath when the soft wisp of him pulling his belt through his belt loops alerts me to what’s coming next.
“Don’t fucking move, little ballerina,” he warns me. “You’ve had this coming.”
The snap as he folds the leather and pulls it taut has the oxygen held hostage in my lungs. A moan crawls up my throat the moment the air hits my butt less than a second before the sting of the belt ignites my flesh in a delicious burn.
The crack rings out again, the leather kissing my skin with its cruel tongue. I crave another lashing, and he obliges.
My core tightens, warm energy spreading through my body. I feel drunk on lust. “I won’t marry you, Alyssa,” he tells me, moving away from me, yanking off his tie and rolling the sleeves of his shirt up his strong forearms. “Get out,” he orders, pointing to the door.
Bastard.
Righting myself, I blow out a breath, trying to cool my overheated face. “Don’t dismiss me. You’re rude and belittling,” I announce, tentatively sitting my ass on the lip of his desk.
His eyes track me over the rim of his glass. He refills it with ice and amber goodness, taking a sip.
“I think you value yourself more than I.” He raises a brow.
“Why can’t you hear me out at least?” I argue, desperate for something to drink but after throwing his last offering at him. I doubt he’ll be accommodating a second time.
“Because it’s ludicrous,’ he punches out.
Swiping a curtain of hair from my shoulder, I shrug. “Why? Because of my age?”
He stares at me, drinking me in like a man parched. “Amongst other things.”
He looks me up and down in such a way, I can’t help but feel the caress of it.
“What other things?”
The air in this room is so thick, you can choke on it.
“It has to be believable, little ballerina. Real.”
The nickname he uses for me sends a warmth blooming in my chest. I hate myself for being so easily softened.
This man has been an asshole to me. I should hate him. But amongst the hate is a lust and desperate need to stay here, stay with Swan, with him.
“I can role play, make it believable. Eventually, who knows? It may become the real deal.” I jut my chin forward, showing confidence.
“How many men have you fucked?” he asks, and I blanch, the question catching me off guard. Clint’s face forms in my mind, and I fight the urge to shudder.
“What does that matter?”
“Because it matters.” There’s light amusement in his tone. He wants me ruffled. “How many boys have you let between those thighs? How often do you seek pleasure?” He chuckles when I glare at him. The sound tightens my stomach. It’s stunning.
“Pleasure doesn’t have to come from men fucking me,” I retort. “I prefer to see to my own needs. Too many disappointments in that area.”
Surprise flashes in his eyes. “And yet you want to get married?”
“Not want. It’s an arrangement that will suit us both.”
“I’ll be fucking you if your finger wears my ring—and I’m no little boy. I like it rough. I’ll want to coat you in my cum every chance I get. Make you sore for days on end. There’s not a hole in your body I won’t try to stick my cock in. Chains, cuffs, dildos, whips—I will use them all to bring you to surrender. How do you feel about that?”
The room closes in around me, his form seeming to expand, the ego an entity of his own.
He’s trying to get me flustered, make me back out, but all he’s done is excite me.
“So, added perks we both can enjoy. Win, win.” I swallow, trying not to pass out from the need inside me.
“Show me,” he says, stepping closer to me.
My brow pinches. “Show you what?”
“Show me how you pleasure yourself. That’s what you said you do, right?” A flush burns my skin. “You want to prove you’re mature and able to play your part, prove it.”
Bastard.
He tilts his lips into a smug smile, a gleam in those impossible blue eyes. Lifting his drink to his lips, he says, “Well?”
Has he not been in the room for the last hour? I’m not shy.
My arousal is leaving a wet spot on his desk right now.
His belt has my ass imprinted on it for fuck’s sake.
I swallow down the disobedient girl inside me and call on the girl who wants to be his whore. I’ll gladly let him fuck me until I can’t breathe his name anymore, then let him resuscitate me to fuck me all over again.
Standing, I walk to his cabinet and take the bottle of whiskey, downing some of the contents while watching him.
The amber liquid stirs a warm burn down my throat. I grab a handful of ice and drop them in his glass. “You’ll need this,” I tell him, smirking.
I take my position back on his desk, and he takes the seat opposite, getting an eye level view of my bare pussy as I tug at my dress until it sits just above my thighs.
His eyes widen, jaw tensing. He didn’t think I’d do it. Screw him. The alcohol loosens my limbs and my mind, and I give him a show.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Luca
She kicks off her shoes and slides her bare feet up my calves before resting them on my thighs.
The ice in my glass chinks, slowly dissolving in the liquor.
My thighs spread, opening hers further, causing her pussy lips to part slightly, giving me a view of her glistening pink cunt.
It’s pretty, just like expected. It takes everything I have not to lean in and devour her.
I swallow thick, willing my cock not to rip through my slacks and impregnate her.
It empowers her seeing what she does to me.
She’s right, she is wicked.
I don’t think I’ve ever met a match more perfect for me.
She came undone under the punishment of my belt, wanted more. The red welts on her skin elicited a drop of precum to soak the tip of my cock.
She leans back on one hand, keeping eye contact. Slipping her free hand down the front of her body, she bundles up the fabric of her dress, hissing when her fingers meet the heated skin of her cunt.
They slide through her folds with ease. She’s soaked and in desperate need of fucking.
The sound of her slickness as she pushes two fingers inside her almost buckles me.
Both our breaths catch, and she bites down on her lip, pushing her hips into her hand, moaning.
“I feel so fucking good, Luca. Listen to how wet you make me,” she teases. “I’m thinking of your juicy fat cock right now, fucking me, stretching me, making me a bad, bad girl.”
Fuck me. She’s going to kill me.
“I’m on fire. I want you to mark my body, claim every inch with your teeth, your tongue, your bruises.” She bucks her hips. The dress shifts, the material falling away, exposing her tits, her rosy nipples hard and ready for sucking.
Scooping up a piece of ice from my glass, I drag the cold cube across my lips. “You’re hot, little dancer. Let’s cool you down,” I tell her, dripping the cube up her thigh and over her mound.
She uses her fingers to open herself up for me, the scent of her arousal speaking to the animal in me.
Claim her.
Fuck her.
Make her yours.
Slipping the cube down her clit rewards me a groan and hitch of her breath. Crooking my fingers, I push past her folds into her needy hole, thrusting the melting ice inside her.
“Luca,” she calls out as I enter her, her needy walls clutching onto me.
“Your fingers are so much thicker than mine. Fuck me with them,” she pleads. Her brow crashes as a wave of euphoria washes over her, her cunt pulsing, holding onto me greedily.
I thrust harder, fucking her tight hole. Adding a third finger, I stretch her, the ice water turning warm from her heat.
She’s on fire and about to erupt.
Her head swings back, her tits bouncing as she bucks her hips up to meet every thrust.
I pound my fingers harder, the juices making a delicious beckoning sound. I want to feast on her.
This is madness.
When she cries out, her body shuddering, toes curling, I almost come in my slacks.
I pull out of her, a sheen of nectar coating my fingers.
Grabbing the bottle of whiskey I tease her entry with it, getting all her flavor on the rim before backing away, leaving her gasping on my desk.
“You’ve made a mess,” I spit out cruelly. “Clean it up, then have one of my men drive you home.” I swig from the bottle, letting my tongue linger on the lip to taste her.
“I don’t have a fucking home, Luca. You took it from me!” she screams, righting herself.
“I don’t owe you anything!” I roar, launching the bottle across the room and exiting before I do something crazy like take her up on her offer.
I want her too fucking much. It’s more than need, it’s everything.
I want everything from her.
The drive back to the house gives me too much time for reflection. She laid herself bare for me tonight, and I rejected her—left her with nothing and sent her on her way.
They can’t kick her out of the school tonight. They must have to give her time to collect her shit and make arrangements.
Dammit.
She’s not my problem.
She has to go.
“We’re here, sir,” Seth, my driver for the night, informs me. I hadn’t noticed us pull up.
The house is buzzing with activity. A couple of my father’s nurses wait for my return. “What is it?” I ask immediately, wary of their concerned expressions.
“Your father took a nasty fall in the bathroom tonight. His body is weak, sir. He refused to go to hospital. We have treated him the best we can, but I think he’s broken his wrist.”
“Can he not be treated here?”
Her face crinkles, worry lines like craters on her forehead. “We can get the equipment, but not until tomorrow. Please try to get him to rest until then,” she pleads. “He doesn’t listen to me.”
He doesn’t listen to anyone. He’s fading, losing himself.
Hushed grumblings greet me when I enter his room. “How are you feeling?” I ask, taking in the IV he’s attached to.
“Parched. Those women I pay to wait on me are savages.” He coughs on the last word, his frail body jerking around from the strain of it.
A smile tilts my lips. “They’re here to medicate you,” I correct.
“Whisky is medicine,” he grunts.
Can’t argue with that.
“Have you dealt with the problem your brother created yet?”
“It’s in motion,” I tell him, pushing my hands through my hair. It’s been a long night. Hell, it’s been a long week.
“Am I going to get to see my son marry before I die?” he croaks, vulnerability like a chink in his armor.
Alyssa twirls through my mind, eating away at me. She would be safer here wearing my ring under my watchful eye.
My heart thuds hard. The thought of her being mine loosens the tightness I’ve had in my chest since leaving her tonight.
“There is someone, actually.”
He perks up, his eyes sparking with interest. “Really?”
Yes, really.
I need to own what I’m feeling. I’m Luca Leto, I take what I want. And trying to push her away is having the opposite effect. We’re drawn to each other.
“She’s young, but mature. There’s something about this girl. She’s special,” I say honestly, releasing a knot inside me.
“Tell me more.”
My whole life, my father was a man feared, a man always busy, always dealing with some crucial conflict.
His love came in the form of praise the more involved in his world I became.
This…talking about a woman, is something that would have never happened before.
His illness has changed parts of him, giving us some sliver of a normal father and son relationship.
Pulling up a chair, I tell him all about the ballerina who’s weaved herself inside me.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Alyssa
Once again, I find myself at Simon’s apartment, humiliation and exhaustion making me emotional. When he answers his door, his eyes widen, “Alyssa?”
“Sorry to dump my drama on you again, Simon.” I lift both my shoulders, sighing. “I have nowhere else.”
“Come inside,” he tells me, placing a hand on my back and looking around the street, no doubt to see how I got here. “You look…” his words halt as he jogs over to an open laptop and closes it.
Had he been watching porn?
Awkward.
“A mess,” I finish for him, tightening the shawl around my destroyed dress. “I don’t suppose I could borrow a shirt and some sweats to?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs uncomfortably. “I do, but they will drown you.”
“Can’t be worse than this,” I cringe, gesturing down my body.
“What happened to you?’ Worry tugs his lips down.
“Can I tell you over coffee?” I ask, and get rewarded with a smile.
“Sure, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you some clothes.”
I plonk down on his couch, looking around the room.
It’s barren in here. No home comforts or pictures. If I didn’t know it was Simon’s apartment, you’d never know someone lived here.
He returns a couple a minutes later holding up a white shirt and gray lounge shorts. “The best I can do, I’m afraid.”
“It’s great. Thank you.” I take his offering and head to his bathroom to change.
Slipping the dress down my body, I collect it up and stuff it in the small bin, never wanting to see the thing again.
I don’t chance looking in the mirror. Instead, I turn on the shower and blast cold water over my fevered flesh. Goosebumps dust my skin, the memory of Luca manifesting, caressing.
Damn him.
He played me tonight, getting me to show him I’d be a good match for his appetites, then flung me aside like a trash bag.
Turning off the shower, I grab a towel from a folded pile and pat my sore skin, my ass cheeks on fire. I hope the marks scar but know they won’t.
“Coffee’s ready,” Simon calls out.
Wrapping the towel around my head to keep my wet hair from dampening the shirt, I slip on Simon’s clothes, tightening the shorts as much as I can, then folding down at the waistband.
He’s sitting with a mug of his own when I come back into the room. “I showered. I hope that’s okay.”
Looking up at me from his position on the couch, he smiles. “Of course. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
A sigh pushes past my lips. “I lost my place at Swan. It’s a long story, but my beneficiary pulled my funding.”
His mouth opens, but words fail him. “I know, right? It’s been a really crappy couple of days.” I laugh. Otherwise, I may cry and go on a killing spree—starting at Swan.
“I’m sorry this shit has been happening to you. What will you do now?” His fingers drum on his mug.
Sighing, I sip my coffee, curling my legs underneath me on the armchair. “I guess I’ll have to go back home to the farm, save up some money, try to get into a production company.”
“Is dancing something you’ve always wanted to do?”
His question really hits me, like a force sucking the oxygen out of the room.
I’m a great dancer, worked my ass off to be great, but it was Mom’s dream, Mom’s passion, Mom’s ambition.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asks, studying me.
“No,” I shake my head, the towel coming loose and falling to the arm of the chair. “It’s just…I don’t actually know. It was something thrust upon me. I never had a choice. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a dancer. It’s consumed my life.”
“Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. You could figure it out, find what you love and want to do.”
Luca Leto.
I shiver at the thought.
“Are you cold?” Simon asks, interpreting my reaction incorrectly. “I’ll get you some sleeping stuff. You can crash here tonight and figure things out once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
