Page 34 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

Pushing back the nerves that had my skin ice-cold, yet palms clammy, I slid the skirt of my nightgown up my legs and over my thighs. “I’m feeling guilty about last night, not being able to spend our wedding night doing what we do best.”

Elijah’s irises darkened, almost as black as the sweatpants he wore which hung low around his waist showcasing the prominent V which I was sure had magical fucking powers, making my fingertips itch to trace along the sensual clefts. His roped muscles were physical proof of how strong he was, and the way he leveled me with his dark gaze proved just how much power he wielded over me. Everything about him was alluring, intoxicating, and utterly hypnotic. I could feel it in my bones how this potent attraction crackled between us. It was undeniable, and too strong to fight.

He stalked toward me already wearing the mask of a predator, his expression wicked and eyes hungry. My body shivered as he placed his palms on my knees, abruptly jerking my legs open.

I gasped, and he moved in between my thighs, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me to the edge of the table. My sex started to throb the moment he rubbed his hard length against my panties.

With a gentle finger, he touched my chin, staring down hungrily at my mouth. “I’m starting to think I created an insatiable little wench.”

I placed my palms on his naked chest, his skin warm to the touch. “I think you might be right.”

“Well,” he slipped his hand between us and pulled out his cock, “I can promise you, you’ll never hear me fucking complain.”

This might have started as a way to cover up what I was really doing here, but my body was reacting to his as if I didn’t doubt him at all. As if I hadn’t just caught him in a lie about Gianni Guerra.

Elijah had a hold on me, completely enthralled me in a way that left me incapable of fighting the sensual allure that oozed from his pores. I couldn’t ignore the glimmer of dark promises in his eyes as he studied me.

So, I let him fuck me right there on the table as if nothing was wrong. I allowed him to move inside me with hard, fast, relentless thrusts. Kissing my neck, nipping at the skin of my shoulder before sucking my nipple into his mouth, Elijah played my body like a goddamn instrument. Possessed and utterly consumed, I forgot about the lies, the doubt, the questions. I forgot about the fucking world, not caring about anything but how he made me feel.

Elijah was my cocaine. My drug. Being fucked by him had me in a haze of pleasure and rapture—my skin electrified and mind numb. The racing thoughts desperately searching for reasons Elijah lied were quieted by our moans and the sound of him penetrating my wet cunt over and over again. God, it was a filthy ballad of lust—proof that primal instincts were far more potent than reason and common sense.

I leaned back on the oak table, surrendering to the euphoria as his fingers dug into the skin of my waist, pushing and pulling my body to match his thrusts. I was high on him, on the scent of sex, and the anticipation of an orgasm that would tear me in fucking half. And the moment my climax stirred inside my belly, I closed my eyes and relaxed every muscle. Rather than chase the pleasure, I allowed it to burn and build, my blood simmering as my body climbed slowly, leisurely, reaching the plateau. And then finally, it exploded, and I shattered into a million pieces, my sex pulsing as my orgasm ripped through me.

He continued to fuck me, impaling me until he too found his release. But this time he didn’t come inside me. Instead, I felt the warm squirts of his cum on my cunt and thighs. I glanced down to watch him jerk his cock in his palm, milking it for the last drop of jizz.

“Jesus Christ,” Elijah said as he looked down where his cum stained my skin and dragged a finger through it. “I have never seen anything as hot as my cum covering your cunt.”

I moaned when he inserted that same finger inside me, my sex sensitive and still throbbing.

“You are truly mine, in every sense of the word. And there is no better sight than seeing you like this, my sweet cellist. Utterly spent and thoroughly fucked.”

“I am,” I whispered, the lies slowly starting to penetrate the haze. “I am truly…fucked.”

13

The water was too hot,but I didn’t care. I didn’t feel the burn, how it scorched my skin. All I felt was this numbing ache inside my chest, like a disease that stemmed from Elijah’s lies. No matter how hard I tried to think of possible reasons he’d lie to me, none of them made it feel any better. It made me wonder what else he was lying about, causing me to dissect every word he had ever said. But everything just came down to this one monumental thing.

I loved him.

I loved him so much I married him on a whim, an impulse that convinced me that nothing would ever change the way I felt about him, which meant I might as well take the plunge and marry him, which I did. And now here I was, not even twenty-four hours later trying to keep my heart from bleeding out. My soul was cracked, my insides torn from the sharp edges of his lies. I could barely stand up straight, every muscle weakened by the pain that throbbed inside my chest.

The only thing that got me out of the shower, dressed, and in the car next to Elijah was the thought of meeting Saint and Milana—hopefully getting answers as to what the hell was going on. Deep down I prayed that there would be a logical explanation as to why Elijah lied to me. Something that would justify his deception. I just wanted the pain to go away, to be able to look at him and not feel betrayed.

During the drive to the Trevi Fountain I glanced out the window, the streets of Rome going past us in one big blur. There was nothing beautiful about any of it today. Everything was colorless and glum. The magic was gone, the splendor faded to gray. It was impossible for me to see beauty in anything while my heart ached with doubt. How could one appreciate the brilliance of Rome when everything you felt inside was black and broken?

It was only when I stood in front of the Trevi Fountain that I was able to push back the pain and heartache for a moment, to experience the fountain’s magnificence. Just like the Colosseum, its architecture was unique and spectacular. The sound of the water was calming, and I stood in front of the fountain entranced by it all. The sculptures, the horses, every inch of it held a piece of history—most of it never to be known by man, solidified within the stone. I could only imagine the tales and secrets it held…like my husband.

Elijah wrapped his arms around me and pulled my back against his chest, his warmth enveloping me. I closed my eyes, loving and hating it all at once. My heart screamed with torment, breaking more and more with each passing second. The love I had for Elijah was crushing me from the inside, and I could hardly take a breath.

“Oceanus,” Elijah said against my ear, “he stands in the center of it all. His chariot being pulled by two sea horses, one wild and one docile, representing the opposing spirits of the ocean.”

“It’s beautiful.”

We glanced up toward the top of the fountain, four statues standing tall and majestic. “They symbolize the effect of rain on the Earth. Abundance of Fruits. Fertility of Crops. Products of Autumn. Joy of Prairie and Gardens.” The way Elijah spoke, it was as if he understood the history, lived it, felt it inside him. His voice transported me, and I was lost within the enchantment of it all. I didn’t want it to end because while I was here, caught up in the moment with him, I was able to focus on the love between us rather than on my own pain.

“Here.” He opened his palm, revealing three coins.

“Why three?”

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