Page 118 of A Beautiful Crime

Her eyes hold mine and something indescribable to me passes through them. I suck her clit into my mouth one last time before I thrust my tongue back in her aching pussy. It doesn’t take long before my name falls from her lips in a scream that travels the entire penthouse.

Sweet like nectar, I drink from her like one does their favorite wine, savoring the taste until the last drop. I keep my licks up as the tremors in her body come to a stop and her body becomes languid. I press one last soft kiss to her clit before I’m climbing up her body.

The softest of smiles is on her lips. It lights up her face, creating a glow that is heavenly.

And my immediate thought is this is what men kill for. This is what makes men come tumbling to their knees. This is the cause of devastation and beauty.

Her arms weakly come to band around my neck as she enjoys the aftermath of her orgasm.

I frame her precious face in my hands and rest my forehead upon hers. I breathe her in as her labored breaths hit against my face.

If possible the smell of her has become more intoxicating. Cherries mixed with her arousal and sweat is a lethal combination.

I run my nose along hers. “You taste as sweet as sin.”

She hums appreciatively. Then, surprising me, her tongue comes to lick my cum covered chin clean before she pries my mouth open for a carnal kiss. She licks my lips as I’m lost in a heady trance. “Sweet as sin,” she echoes in agreement.

Wanting the last piece of fabric off her flushed skin I straighten her arms above her head. She lifts her back and her dress becomes one with the floor.

And there she is. My Queen in all her glory.

My hands itch to cover every inch of her skin. To connect all the lines of her birthmarks. To lavish her with my tongue and soothe her with kisses.

As I go to place my hands around her back to bring her against me she captures my wrists.

“Carina,” I say her name in hopes that it will relieve the tension in her body. And I know her. I know her all too well. The scars upon her back don’t diminish her beauty to me.

She swallows, eyes filled with apprehension and fear.

I saw her scars before. In fact I saw them on the night we first officially met. And I had wondered even then why her scars were shown for everyone to see in that damning backless dress to tempt even a saint.

Her guard was up then. The woman who saw herself dead, one who wore a mask of indifference as a shield dared anyone to question her about it. To even acknowledge it.

And yet I had. And I remember then as clearly as I see it now the fear that held her captive.

I had my suspicions then, I have the very same suspicions now.

Savio wouldn’t order any of his soldiers to torture his own daughter. And Luca is too much of a sadist to give someone else the opportunity.

The blood on his cuffs when Pietro and I arrived unannounced for a meeting with his papa. The bandages wrapped around her entire torso when I saw her over the banister. The fear that only comes to her eyes at the sight of her dear fratello.

I want to kill him in the most excruciating way possible and then bring him back to life to do it all over again.

“They’re worse than what you remember,” she says to me in a voice so small. I hate the sound of it. Of her belittling herself because of them.

Worse because Luca, and I know it must’ve been Luca, had given her more scars since our dance.

The opening of old scars being flayed apart to be replaced by new. A vicious cycle leaving an even more vicious appearance to the skin.

I only know so well because I’ve seen it.

Rico.

The man who can feel no emotion had suffered a similar fate as Carina.

I run my knuckles along her cheek and her eyes flutter shut. Mia leonessa has been starving for affection. I’ll be the one to make sure she gets her fill. “Are you ashamed of them?”

Her response is immediate. “Yes.”

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