Page 335 of Cheaters: A Dark Romance Anthology

I’ve seen enough. Heard more than I planned. It’s an interesting little entrepreneurship Nolan has started here. A part of me is intrigued, already calculating the ins and outs and how I could use it to my advantage.

She sits prim and proper, nodding her head when warranted, asking questions... completely ignoring my presence.

Bodyguard, indeed.

My first instinct is to lash out. I can tell several of these women know exactly who they are in the presence of, but I reign the impulse in. Let her have this small victory. The years have taught me many things, but none as important as patience. Learning when and where to strike in a way that completely incapacitates the opponent. I allow her this one, allow her to treat me like a pawn in her game. But not for long.

I am King. I eat pawns for breakfast.

“Out.”

It’s not a suggestion. It’s not even a request.

It’s a command.

One that is answered immediately. The women stand as one, gathering their things. Nolan stands as well. “No. Stay. This meeting isn’t over.” The women don’t listen, although a few of them send her apologetic looks on their way out.

“How dare you,” she seethes, anger making her eyes glaze.

I like this look best of all. No more simpering fool or drunken succubus. This, I imagine, is the closest I’ll ever get to seeing the real Nolan Pierce.

“Silence.” Her jaw goes taut at my command, an internal battle waging in her head. But she remains silent. Perhaps she’s finally realizing that I’m not one of her clients or marks, someone she can manipulate and push around. I am Kaius fucking King, and my word is law.

Circling her slowly, I trail my gaze across every inch of her. My hands crave the feel of her skin beneath them. She opens her mouth to speak and thinks better of it. “Nolan... Nolan... Nolan,” I tsk with a shake of my head. “What should I do with you?”

Lifting a wayward curl from her shoulder, I press it between my fingers and tug. Her gaze jumps to mine, her thoughts clear as day on her face. She’s barely holding back.

“I asked you a question.”

“Oh, am I permitted to speak? And here I thought you just liked the sound of your own voice.”

I step to her and press myself against her back, leaning down, and growl into her ear, “Answer me.”

She spins away, facing me once again. “You could let me go on with my life. Give me a stern warning and then forget I exist. I made a mistake. I can assure you, it won’t happen again.”

I contemplate her answer. “I could.” She tenses, hope lighting her features. “But I won’t.”

Instead of deflating like most, she burns. The rage is drafting off her in waves. “Of course not. You’re King. You can do whatever you want, right? Who cares if you hurt others in the process? That’s not your problem.”

Her words spoken out of such anger hit me like an anvil. They’re nothing I haven’t heard before, but coming from her, spoken with such rage and conviction, they ignite my own anger.

“You were free to do as you wish.” I step closer with each word. “Make no mistake, you are in this position now because you opened your glorious mouth and invited me here.” Lifting a finger, I run it across the surface of her bottom lip. “Not the other way around. I was happy never knowing you existed.”

Her breath hammers out, her chest expanding and contracting in short, quick bursts. Her eyes are like living flames, arrows driving straight into my soul. I lower my hand from her mouth across her neck and then place it against her throat, my thumb pressing between her collar bones. She closes her eyes and whispers, “Do it. Take whatever payment you desire.”

I push her back until her legs hit the edge of the altar. With expert precision, I press harder, cutting into her air supply. She reaches for my hand with her own, pulling, trying to dislodge my grip. I pull them away with my free hand and hold them above her head. I could take her life now. I could cut off all air going into her lungs and silence the flames burning in her soul.

The thought disgusts me, enrages me, consumes me. I step between her legs, forcing them apart, and replace my hand against her throat with my lips. She lets out a surprised huff, then she attacks, pulling my shirt free. Her hands run up my stomach, her nails scratching down my rigid abs. Her teeth graze my throat before being replaced by her lips. My cock is hard, straining against my pants.

Leaning away, I take the waist of her jeans in my hand and pop the button free. The zipper slides down with ease. Holding her gaze, I slide the jeans down her thighs and then toss them on an abandoned pew. Her panties follow closely behind until she is standing in front of me in nothing but a shirt and bra. The anger in her eyes has been replaced with lust, and I’m not sure which look I like more. I push her back. “Lie down,” I demand.

She scootches onto the altar table until she reaches the middle and then lies back as instructed. I study her, the flush to her skin and the moisture pooling between her thighs.

“Touch yourself.” She hesitates. “Now,” I growl.

She holds my gaze for another moment before her fingers trace across her thigh, rubbing light circles on the smooth skin. Her hand wanders up and across one knee, to the other and back down again, teasing. Her nipples harden through her shirt.

She’s watching me watch her. I palm my cock through my pants, a bead of precum staining the material. She licks her lips, and my cock jumps in my hand.

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