Page 128 of A Beautiful Crime

And he sits like a king on his throne. Naked as the day he was born with his massive cock in the palm of his hand.

The lazy posture just cements how much power he holds. And the dark glint in his eyes mixed with mad lust exudes his powerful seduction.

Fuck him being known as the Devil, he’s a god among us mere mortals.

And while I am all too thrilled about the idea of getting on my knees and worshipping him I also want him to know he can’t control me that easily.

I’ve lost my strings.

While I may have succumbed to the darkness, accepted his hand and in turn accepted myself, that doesn’t suddenly mean I’ll become submissive.

And if there is one thing I know with absolute certainty about my soon to be husband, it is that he desires me the most when the fire within me breathes.

I lean myself against his desk, admiring the view before me. My eyes give a heavy perusal from head to toe, lingering on attributes that cause my stomach to damn flutter and my core to clench.

The broad chest with a smattering of dark curls. The slick abs that take a gruesome amount of dedication in the gym and control of a healthy diet. His thick muscular thighs. And of course, his more than impressive, quite beautiful, in awe of, cock.

My mouth is salivating to taste him. To know what it feels like for him to brutalize my throat in a way only he can make pleasurable.

Constantine is right. I am his whore.

And there is no shame in that. In fact, I take pride in it.

I lick my lips and his eyes follow the movement.

I’ve never thought of myself as desirable. I’ve always known I’ve had a pretty face. A decent build, too. My breasts are fairly average, my ass a considerable size. My thighs are on the thicker end with tiger stripes adorning the inner flesh, and I don’t have a flat stomach. I’ve never had a problem with loving my body despite the narrative the media forces down women’s throats.

It was never my body that made me feel undesirable. It was the stain I felt deep in my soul. The scars I bare on my back. I’ve always felt ashamed of them. Thought of myself as ugly because of my dark and twisted thoughts. Couldn’t imagine someone’s hands running down the length of my back without disgust.

And yet I’ve found a man who touches my scars with admiration. One who gazes at me as if I’m the most stunning creature he has ever seen.

Constantine Donati doesn’t see my body as an object. He not only shows but feels a great reverence for my body.

And getting down on my knees, worshipping him like he does me, has me more turned on than I’d like to admit.

He can see it. See right through me as I press my legs together to help alleviate the ache between my thighs.

Yet despite knowing how turned on I am he indulges me by allowing me to put up a“fight”. And so I echo his question with an arched brow. “Who are you to make demands?”

He runs his thumb along his bottom lip as his eyes stare at me with hunger. He looks so composed. So in control. A true predator about to claim his prey. It’s the sexiest I have ever seen him.

If he were to look between my thighs he would see the evidence glistening.

His teeth nip on the pad of his thumb and my nipples harden in reaction. His eyes flare, taking notice. And I arch my back enough to accentuate them. Daring him to give me the sensation of his tongue.

I’ve come alive in so many ways since he has come into my life. And becoming this wanton seductress who owns her sexuality is one of them.

He continues his hungry stare. His eyes are eating me alive. And I never thought of it to be possible to come from just the gaze alone, and yet here I am proving it to be possible.

“I am your king.” He then rises from his chair, towering over me. He stops just short of our bodies touching. And my bare skin burns with the need to have his hands on me. “Your fiancé.” The low purr of his voice has me going mad. “Your soon to be husband.” Finally his hand touches my skin. The flat of his hand lays on my chest and I pant with anticipation as his hand creeps higher. When his hand collars my throat, giving a tight squeeze the impossible happens. Without any stimulation except for hislust filled gaze and possessive touch I come. It rocks my very foundation. And just as I fear my legs may give out on me Constantine wraps his arm around me to hold me steady. “I am your God, Carina, and you will worship me.”

I knew his sensual mouth would be my undoing. And judging by the knowing smirk on his face, he knew it, too.

His tongue plunders inside my mouth, dominating me in a kiss that reignites the flame.

Before I wouldn’t have thought it possible to orgasm more than once. But Constantine is no average man and he’s a very generous lover.

Truthfully, I believe he becomes more turned on giving pleasure than receiving it.

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