Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I cried out as his tongue moved against my clit, and one of his fingers entered me, my eyes still on Felix. There was something on his face now. Hunger. Excitement. My body writhed against the table as Cristian worked me up to climax.
On the edge of my orgasm, Cristian stopped, stood. His eyes were liquid as he yanked on my legs, flipping me so I was bent against the table, my feet barely supporting me.
My cries echoed through the cavernous room as he slammed into me. He was focused on me, I knew that. But all he needed to do was turn his head, look toward the door to see Felix there, watching. He’d also known that I’d seen him and didn’t say anything, didn’t stop him.
I was moments away from danger, maybe death, be it Felix’s or my own. And that, along with his stare, with Cristian’s cock slamming into me, was what sent me over the edge, taking Cristian along with me.
The last thing I saw before I lost control completely was Felix’s eyes, electric and taunting, before he turned his back and walked away.
Chapter Ten
We were in bed together.
In my room.
Cristian had made it clear he was far from done with me after the dining room table. And though my body and mind were both pillaged and spent, I was far from done myself. Felix’s eyes were seared into my skin.
I couldn’t know whether Cristian had seen him or not. Surely he hadn’t because no blood had been spilled. Mine or Felix’s.
He’d fucked me again, in the shower.
I did a good job of pretending that I resented all of this. The room. The clothes. The cars in the garage that I could take my pick of. The diamonds. But they all fit me like a glove. In more ways than one.
It was late. I had to work in the morning. But I had no desire to go to sleep. I had no desire to banish Cristian from this space. It wasn’t mine. The only thing of my own was the red wine stain on the rug. Cristian made all the white and silk more bearable.
“They’re your parents?” I asked, taking the glass of wine he handed me. I was starting to like the stuff now. Because this wasn’t the cheap wine that I used to stomach when I was poor. It wasn’t even the expensive wine that Pete had raved about. It was the kind of wine that not even money could buy. This was procured by connections, power.
Blood.
Maybe that’s why I liked the taste.
He settled back in the bed, resting against the headboard. It felt remarkably weird to be having a conversation with him. Naked. After everything we’d just done. It seemed too ... normal. Much too intimate. But I was here to gather information.
For the case.
Not because I wanted to get to know him better.
“No. Both of my parents are dead.” He said it without emotion, something I was familiar with.
When I spoke about what happened to my mother, I did it with as much detachment as I could. Letting people know just how much her death damaged me gave them far too much ammunition.
“Who are they to you, then?” I asked, desperate, not for ammunition, but for information. I had a feeling Cristian already knew about my mother. Already knew everything there was to know about me. I’d told him plenty. Plus, he had countless resources, leaving me at a disadvantage. Very disadvantaged, in fact. There needed to be a way to gain equal footing. My survival depended on it.
“He was my predecessor,” Cristian replied, staring at me.
“I’m aware of that,” I responded, voice tight, sipping my wine. “I’m also aware that typically, the king doesn’t hand the crown to someone not related by blood. Yet here you are, with the proverbial crown.”
“Here I am,” he agreed.
I waited. He wasn’t going to get any more questions from me. It wouldn’t do me any good. It was showing too much. He would either get suspicious as to why I suddenly wanted to get to know him, dig and find out I was working with Harris. Or possibly more dangerous, he would think I wanted to get to know him because I planned on spending my life with him.
“I was going to marry their daughter, many years ago,” he told me after a pause. A long fucking pause. His voice was still even, emotionless. But his body tightened, tensed. He did not want to talk about this. This was an old wound, not healed, merely ignored. I knew a lot about those.
“She was killed before we got married,” he continued.
There it was.
His soft spot. The place where I could strike. Draw blood.
“They kept me close,” he added, still watching me. “After she died.”
I sipped my wine, trying to digest what he’d shared with me. Although I didn’t want to, I felt for Cristian. He was becoming more human to me. That was the problem with monsters … the more you learned about them, the less monstrous they became. In your head, at least.