Page 137 of A Beautiful Crime

But Constantine had known about me. He’d known about me before I had known about him.

It’s as if he had fallen in love from the very first sight of me.

Harboring an obsession that had driven him to mad lengths.

All this time I’ve been an unsuspected prey.

He saw something in me, something I had never recognized in myself and wanted it all for himself.

Yes, it’s a mad obsession. Border lining on insane. The man is very well psychopathic for his extreme methods.

And yet I can’t find myself to be repulsed.

I’m finding myself to be quite flattered.

And empowered.

All this time, for over ten years, I have had The Devil of the East Coast, the ruler of the underworld, the most powerful Don, in the palm of my hand.

Yes, quite empowering indeed.

Leaning against the surface of the island I allow my arms to expand against the quartz countertop. His eyes remain on mine even as the tip of my fingers graze against the knife I had been using to prepare the test meal I had made.

“Should I forgive you for the sin you committed?” I ask of him as the flutter of anticipation causes me to become wet once again.

He pinches my chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His signature sinful smirk playing on his lips and those eyes intently on mine. As he presses closer I can feel the excitement this brings him.

Constantine becomes his hardest when I wield my power.

“And what must I do to atone?” He asks, playing along. His voice is husky. And it speaks to my sex. My core clenches.

I lick my lips suggestively. And as he’s distracted I grip the handle of the knife and swiftly bring it to his perfectly exposed throat.

And what does my man do?

He smiles.

Broadly.

Magnificently.

“You know,” I begin, tracing the tip of the knife along his neck. “Any normal woman would be outraged. Upset. Even feel violated.” I continue to taunt him with the knife. Slowly dragging it back and forth across his neck. Only the slightest amount of pressure will draw blood.

And the thought of Constantine bleeding for me has my pussy throbbing with an ache so visceral that I need a release.

Knowing this, because I can’t hide anything from him, not even my dark desires, he presses himself against the blade. A small bead of blood decorates the tip of the knife.

How beautiful.

“And what do you feel, amore mia?” His voice calls to all my dark desires.

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him flush against me. The evidence of his arousal is hard against me. The action causes the blade to dig a little deeper.

Crimson decorates along the knife and pools at the base of the handle to where it then kisses my fingers.

Not breaking eye contact, with my free hand I swipe my pointer finger along the knife, collecting his blood like one would icing from a cake. His eyes hungrily track my blood coated finger.

Most provocative and downright seductively I suck the finger in my mouth. I act as if it’s his cock. Lavishing my finger with my tongue and making obscene noises. When I have him in the perfect trance I pop my finger out of my mouth and smile wickedly.

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