“Please!” she moaned. “More! Please!”
One thing was for sure. The girl really had been a virgin. Her pussy was slick, but tight. I felt her clenching hard enough to milk me dry, trying . . . trying . . .
Good girl.
“They were right, weren’t they?” I growled in her ear. “It’s nice to be used by Lucian Morelli.”
She nodded, even though it must have hurt to move her head with my fist still tangled in her hair.
“Yes, sir. They were right. They were right!”
I didn’t come inside her. I pulled out and wrenched her down onto her knees as I reached my peak, working myself fast, and she knew what I wanted. She stared up with pretty eyes, blue and wide. Just like Elaine Constantine’s.
Enough like Elaine Constantine’s that I gritted my teeth and worked my hand faster.
“Suck me, Elaine,” I growled, and she did. The dirty little doll sucked me hard.
I thrust myself into her mouth, right to the back of her throat, and she gurgled and retched, but still, she fucking wanted it. She wanted to be a good girl for me.
Just like the real Elaine Constantine would have. Only I’d have hurt the real Elaine Constantine a damn sight more than I’d hurt cute little Natalie. I’d have hurt the real Elaine Constantine so bad she’d be a mess on the floor, not sure where her pain ended and lust began, they’d be too fucking blurred to tell the difference.
I loved it that way.
Dominant didn’t come anywhere near describing what a dark, filthy fucker I was in this life. Nothing ever could.
Nobody would ever understand it. Nobody would ever understand me.
Nobody could ever understand my freak of a body, so tainted in its strengths, and my freak of a mind to match.
I hitched my fingers in her cheeks and splayed them wide, still thrusting my dick in her mouth as she moaned. And then I came. Pulled my dick from her pretty mouth and came. One spurt that covered her face, then another that made her retch.
“Open!” I barked and she opened wide, holding still until every last spurt had filled her mouth.
“Swallow,” I told her, and she did. Yet again, she was a good girl for me.
I left her gasping and walked away in a beat, composing myself with deep breaths.
Under usual circumstances, I’d have gone straight back in for another round, but that night was different. I looked over at the beautiful thing on my floor, and for the first time that I could ever remember, I didn’t want another round.
Not with her.
I wanted the true, genuine Elaine Constantine. Not a girl trying to be her.
Fuck.
Freshly deflowered Natalie moved a bit closer on her knees, looking up at me with another smile on her face.
“More, sir?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, sweetheart. I’m done. You can go now.”
She stayed on her knees, paused, and I smirked at her, and myself, because I knew it. I always knew it.
Natalie didn’t want to go.
“Go. Now,” I told her, and she nodded as she came to her senses.
My used up little dolly grabbed her lace slip from the floor and held it tight to her chest as she dashed to the elevator.
“Thank you, sir,” she told me before she stepped inside to leave.
I didn’t even bother saying goodbye.
I should have thought about a million things as I paced back to the windows and stared out over the New York skyline. I should have thought about high-end trade affairs, and corporate business, and Trenton Alto’s seedy deals with the Kelly family across the Atlantic. Maybe pondered whether I should arrange a chat with my brother Declan about how Alto was handling our Irish business.
But no.
I wasn’t thinking about the million things I should be thinking about; I was thinking about one thing and one thing only.
The woman in gold.
I was still thinking about the woman in gold.
Elaine fucking Constantine.
I roused Trenton from his slumber when I called him this time.
“What?” he asked. “Was the girl no good?”
I laughed. “She was good enough. This is about something else. Someone else.”
Even Trenton baulked when I gave him his next instructions.
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” he said.
4
Elaine
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Tristan’s face was a picture, hands in his hair as he paced my lounge.
“He didn’t tell anyone,” I told him. “Even Silas had more sense than that.”
“Yeah, but he could have. He could have gone straight out of there and told the whole ball that Lucian Morelli was in the building. You wouldn’t be standing here, Elaine. There’s no way your mom would let you sleep at night knowing you’d had any of the Morelli’s fingers inside you, let alone his.”
I found myself shrugging. “Plenty of things could have happened. Lucian Morelli could have broken my neck and taken a handful of others down with me before security got to him and blew him away. But he didn’t.”
Tristan Fields had been my best friend and most trusted ear in this world since I was twelve years old. He’d seen me do plenty of crazy shit in the past thirteen years, but nothing had ever made him stare at me like I was this crazy. I guess I’d topped the pinnacle of crazy Elaine. A high mountain to climb, but I’d managed it.
I swigged back another gulp of gin. “It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.”
“I’d fucking hope not. Believe me, baby, I’d be telling your mom myself if I thought that was gonna happen. You’d stand more chance of making it out alive with her on your case than him. Close call, but I know where I’d put my cash.”
I closed my eyes to ease off my thump of a hangover, but it made no difference. My brain was jammed plenty by Tristan carrying on his speech.
“You do know he was playing you, right? He probably thinks you’re an easy road into Constantine life. If he didn’t think he could trick you into giving him what he needs, he’d have killed you the very second he had you alone.”
Something about that offended me. It may not have made any sense that it did, because he was probably right. Tristan’s words made perfect sense. Still, it offended me. Something about that concept twisted my heart and made it hurt.
I was stupid. Totally stupid. Stupid to want to believe there was anything other than hate and purpose behind Lucian grabbing me at Tinsley’s party . . . but, stupid or not, I wanted there to be. Some twisted, fucked up part of me wanted there to be.
I shrugged again. “Yeah, he was probably playing me.”
“Definitely. He was definitely playing you.”
I stared at him. “Yeah, he was playing me. Like I said, I’m never going to see him again. What does it matter?”
He tipped his head and matched my stare. His eyes were cold, green pools of disapproval, and I hated that. Tristan was always on my side.
“If you see him again, Lainey, you have to scream and run, understand? No matter how slick he is with his fingers, you have to scream and run. No excuses.”
“Of course I would run,” I told him, telling myself at the same time. “I might have been reckless, but I’m not that insane.”