Page 29 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

“I’m not going to play with you, little cellist.” With a jerk, he pulled my leg up and forced me to wrap it around his waist.

“Good.” I weaved my fingers through the back of his head. “Because I won’t be a happy wife if you did.”

His lips crashed against mine with such force, my head collided painfully with the wall behind me. With a hard, sharp jab he rammed his cock into me, my back scraping against the rough wall. The stone could draw blood for all I cared—I felt no pain, only this intense ache that had my body desperate for release.

The sheer savagery that erupted from our hot kisses and his cock ramming into me with rapid thrusts of his hips left my mind possessed, unable to think fucking straight. It was just one haze of fuckery and fornication—two people wholly swept away by the need to ravage and be ravaged.

“God, I love you, woman,” he whispered next to my ear, both his hands flush against the wall, his hips flexing and thrusting. “I want to fuck you like this every goddamn day.”

I moaned, the ecstasy of feeling the delicious pressure between my thighs filling me to the brim. Every inch of his length was inside me, pounding in and out, making sure I felt my walls wrap around him, the tip of his cock reaching so fucking deep it hurt. But it hurt to the point of pleasure—an insane contradiction that could only be experienced when immersed within this high. A state of euphoria where I wanted to stay forever. With him. Alone. Let the entire fucking world burn down around us.

But it felt different now. Somehow, having him inside me, filling me, stretching me, fucking me. Maybe it was the fact that we were bound by God now, no longer two individuals, but one entity. Two hearts beating as one.

With the skirt of my dress bunched up around my waist, I too flexed my hips, squirming against him, my body primed and ready for pleasure. I was no longer the woman he took captive and held against her will. I was no longer the woman who fought against the fire his touch left on my skin, or the girl who hated that she wanted this monster. I was his wife now. His equal. My life was now his as much as his life was mine. There was nothing that divided us anymore, which made this so much more intense and profoundly euphoric.

Elijah bit down on my lip, the metal taste of my own blood bursting on my tongue. At once his grueling thrusts ceased, and he stared down at me, rolling his hips, slowly sinking back inside me.

“I want you to look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

He shook his head, slipping out of me before sliding back in so damn slow, I moved my waist, wanting his hard body to push against my core. “Don’t close your eyes when you come.”

“Elijah—”

Impatient hands snaked around my thighs as he pulled me up against the wall, forcing me to wrap both legs around him. There was no time to think or speak as he impaled me, going deeper than he ever had before, and I cried out as the pressure and pain morphed into the most pleasurable rapture I had ever experienced.

The low thrum of his grunts and groans, and the intoxicating scent of sex had me at the brink of complete delirium. But I kept my eyes open and locked with his, perspiration beaded on his forehead, jaw ticking as he held on to his last ounce of control, waiting for me to tip over the edge.

And I did.

My body was torn in fucking half with a climax that surged through every muscle. Pleasure had my sex clenching his cock, and he cursed, his thrusts wild and erratic as he chased his own release, until his cock jerked inside me, filling me to the brim.

Our chests rose and fell rapidly as we tried to catch our breath. My body hummed with adrenaline, and every inch of my skin he touched was electrified.

He eased me down to my feet. As if he knew I had no strength left in me to stand, he snaked an arm around my waist and held me up against him.

“I swear to you now, there will never be a single moment in your life when you’ll doubt my love for you. Every day I will remind you again, and again, and again.”

He brushed his lips across mine, barely touching, my skin hyperaware of him and that constant sensual pull between us. Even now, post-euphoria, my body still wanted him. My lips still wanted to kiss him, fingertips caressing his chest. It would never be enough for me. There was no scenario I could think of where I’d be sated and have my fill of this man. Ever.

Elijah pulled his tie from his collar and kept his eyes locked with mine. A gasp swept across my lips as he reached between my legs, wiping my sex with his tie.

“As much as I’d love to sit at the dinner table thinking of my cum between your legs, I don’t think you’d be very comfortable.” He shot me a sly grin, easing the soft fabric across my sensitive folds, one gentle stroke at a time. “But when we get home, your cunt better be ready for me. Until then,” he slipped the dirty tie into his pants pocket and held his hand out to me, “let’s go to dinner, Mrs. Mariano.

11

Dinner would have beengreat if Elijah hadn’t been leering at me with those amber eyes that glimmered with promises of pleasure. I could practically see the images inside his mind. Him. Me. Us. Fucking and fornicating as if there were no tomorrow. He made sure I stayed hyperaware of his demand, that my body would be ready for him when we got to our hotel room.

I had to make a conscious effort to pretend like I was immersed in the conversation, Milana telling me all about Rome and how she loved it whenever Saint brought her here.

I heard all about their beautiful little daughter and tried to bypass any questions she had about Elijah and our very unconventional relationship.

Milana held her glass of wine, her blue eyes nothing short of brilliant beneath the elegant lights of the restaurant. “You are a very talented cello player.”

My cheeks burned. “I can’t believe you heard me play. That was a real sly move by Elijah.”

“How so?”

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