Sancte Diaboli: Part Two (The Elite King's Club 7)

“Still need to get these pierced.”

“We do,” I half-moan, my hips still thrusting against him.

“Come here.” He leans forward and sucks a nipple into his mouth, tugging it between his teeth hard enough to make me wince in pain. His other hand travels from my belly, up my sternum, until it’s resting against the front of my throat with his long fingers spreading over the side of my jaw. “What if you find out that what I can give you isn’t enough anymore?” His hair is wild, his eyes hooded. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “What then? Because if you think I’m going to let you walk away from me, Saint, then you’re about to get a front row view of why people fear me. This, right now…” He pauses, flicking my nipple with his index finger. “Is your getaway. But if you choose to stay here with me, then it’s done. It’s sealed. You can’t change your mind when you find out I’m a heartless piece of shit.”

I think over his words and try to reason with myself as to why this wouldn’t be a good idea, but even as scenarios fail to come to my mind, I know my answer. I know because I could never see my life without him in it. Brantley didn’t use bricks to build the wall he has to keep people out; he used the flesh of all his victims, in hopes it will scare people enough to never come near him.

I lean down and shake his grip off my throat. “Even if I didn’t want it. Even if I fought against it. The fact could never be changed…” I place a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m yours.” I attempt to lean back, but he catches my bottom lip between his teeth, those glorious canines sinking into the sides. Reaching for his jeans, I move them down while never breaking our kiss. He flicks the button off my jeans, and I push them down while his hand rests on his length. My mouth waters.

He looks up at me from beneath his thick lashes, a devious smirk on his face. “What? You wanna suck my dick in a cemetery?”

Before he can stop me, I lean down and flick my tongue over the piercing on his tip.

He reaches the backs of my thighs, flipping me onto my back as his heavy body rests between my legs. His breathing is steady as my legs tighten around his waist. He slowly sinks inside of me, and when my eyes roll to the back of my head, he leans down and licks me from my lips to my temple. It feels animalistic and wild, but more than anything; it feels like ownership. He squeezes my throat while riding my body, sucking and kissing the curve of my jaw while tracing his sharp canines over the bone. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was carving his name into my cheek. His tongue laps up what blood slips through, until his mouth is back on mine. He drives inside of me, our bodies slapping together with every thrust until he flips me over and directs me on top of him, yanking me back down to his lips. Every second that passes feels like hellfire rippling through my blood. I roll my body against his to the same rhythm until I feel my muscles tighten and my vision blur. He hooks his arm around my lower back, holding me in place as he drives his hips up to mine. Sweat slides between our bodies, my hair sticking to my cheeks when his lips graze the shell of my ear and he groans through a tight, “Fuck.”

My stomach coils together like live electrical wire slapping over a road, desperate to find anything to destroy. He slows his pace but guides my body over his with rough precision. Every single thrust I feel his piercings graze against all of my sensitive areas. “I’m—” A rush of energy pours out of me as my muscles twitch and my thighs tremble. My orgasm erupts inside of me and I swear I pass out.

He sinks his teeth into my neck as his cock jerks, filling me to the brim. I collapse onto his chest as we both catch our breath, his giant body like my own personal bed. He reaches for something to the side before draping his hoodie on top of my body like a blanket.

I run the tip of my finger over his skull tattoo. Seconds pass before I ask, “What did Veronica want to talk to you about before we left?”

His arms are on the outer side of the hoodie, protective and strong. “You broke a generation curse that was placed on that coven.”

I pause my tracing. “What did it entail?” I ask, the music from the main house somehow sounding louder than it did moments ago. Yelawolf’s “You and Me.” The tune is hypnotic and trance-like, and the lyrics embed themselves into the marrow of my bone. When he doesn’t answer, I lean up and brush my long hair to the side, resting my face on my hand. “Tell me.”