Soulless (Starcrossed Lovers Trilogy 2)

His smirk was right back. “Hardly. There’s no happy ever after here, little girl. I’m hardly a white knight on some glorious steed. I’m the bad guy; I promise you.”

“A bad guy who has a decent body wash in his shower at least. Thank you.”

I knew he was on the edge of laughing. I could see it. He didn’t. He cast his jacket on the sofa and headed to the kitchen. I followed him in time to see him flick on the coffee machine. I hoped I’d get one. Manners, at least before he fucked me up for his pleasure.

I felt strangely human in his presence, which was ridiculous given that he was the greatest enemy I’d ever known, right from the day I was born. There’s no way you can feel more yourself in your future killer’s company than your own mother’s, right?

“Show me your ass,” he told me. “I want to see the marks.”

I spun for him and lifted the shirt, and then my cheeky side found its strength some more. I jigged my butt for him, shooting him a glance over my shoulder.

He was on me in seconds, arm around my throat as he slapped me hard on the ass.

“There’s a very fine line between a girl who finds her voice to amuse me and one who is asking for a fucking beating, Elaine.”

I knew that. I managed to nod, and he dropped me.

My cheeky side shriveled to nothing as he returned to the coffee machine. This man was going to be the end of me, I needed to remember that. His amusement was nothing to me. He was nothing to me. Lucian Morelli was fuck all to my Constantine soul, he never would be. Not in the rest of my sorry lifetime.

He didn’t make me a coffee, manners all gone.

“Get on your fucking knees,” he said.10LucianI should’ve destroyed the bitch in front of me there and then and enjoyed it. I should’ve relished wiping her off this planet and ticking a Constantine off my list. The first of many.

Should’ve was becoming a sorry fucking mantra.

Yet again the pretty little creature on the floor transfixed me. Her blue eyes were pools, deep with their secrets. The different shades of her butterfly beauty were siren calls, even in the shitty surroundings of the crappy little kitchen in the crappy little hovel that was an embarrassment to own.

She seemed at home here, even more than she’d seemed at home in the opulence of central city. It shouldn’t have surprised me, especially having seen the bullshit place downtown that belonged to that loser of a friend of hers. Or after seeing the holes of clubs she was enjoying with her gay bestie.

Thank you, Tristan, for having such random power over the girl on her knees.

She was even more beautiful from that angle, staring up at me. I stepped up close enough to enjoy it.

“Take my shirt off. Now.”

Her fingers fumbled, impudence forgotten. Her skin was visibly nervous, goose pimpled. Her nipples were bullets.

I wanted to see her slip her hand between her thighs again without permission, but she didn’t. She was silent and still.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty,” I told her. “You’d be long dead if you weren’t.”

She stayed silent. It frustrated me how much I wanted her cheek. Because I did. Part of me wanted her cheek. Part of me even liked it. Disgusting.

I punished her for it, dragging her up to her feet and slamming her down onto the counter, her tits pressed tight to the wood. I reached into the drawer and pulled out the metal spatula. I ran it up her thighs, teasing her before striking.

She squealed.

I loved her pain far more than her cheek.

I made her squeal again and again and again. I yanked her head back by her silky blonde curls, keen to see tears streaming down her pretty cheeks, but there were none. She wasn’t crying.

“I’ll make you sob for me,” I snarled, but she smiled.

“Don’t count on it, sir.”

Her smile wasn’t rude. It was genuine. It lit up the pain in her eyes.

I knew it. She was a pain slut. A masochist as desperate for my wrath as she was for my mercy.

My dick was a beast in my pants, lost to the siren even more than the rest of me.

Her virginity was the biggest temptation of all, there for the taking. I was used to taking whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. I had been since I was a young boy learning from his father. I always clicked my fingers and got whatever I summoned. I cast my eyes on anything I desired and it arrived at my feet. People, possessions, places. So why didn’t I take her? Why was her tight little pussy a prize I was holding back on?