Beautiful Monster (Dark Lies Duet 2)

“You care so much, look at him,” I grunt around my thrusts. “I told you actions come with consequences, topolina.”

“Ah,” she bites back, and I can tell she’s attempting not to moan.

That’s okay. She doesn’t have to. I know the truth. As it always does, her pussy squeezes me tight, milking my cock for all I’ve got.

“Ah. Ouch,” she whines when I dig my nails into her ass and tighten my grip on her hair.

Siân tries to move her face from directly in front of the man, twisting and turning, all while her body rocks as I pump into her. Her balance slips, and she falls forward, her right hand sliding into his blood. The thick, dark liquid paints her pale skin and adds to my arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. That’s right, feel his blood on your hands.”

“N-No.” She shakes her head. “I won’t.”

I plummet into her, our skin slapping loudly against echoes between the two buildings. Yet still with the liveliness of patrons, the music coming from nearby establishments, and the roar of engines as cars roll over the cobblestone streets, no one notices what’s happening.

And even if they did, no one would bother to interfere. The people of Milan know my name and what I’m capable of. To protect themselves and to save their families the heartache of burying them, they’ll steer clear. They could be standing inches in front of us, watching as I fuck while the man she caused me to kill isn’t even cold yet.

Bringing my large palm down on her ass, she yelps from the sting. “Please, Christian.” Her tone is shaky.

“Every time you disobey me, I’ll make your punishment ten times worse.”

“I’m sorry,” she struggles to get out.

“Too late for that now. Smear his blood on your face. Maybe then you’ll think before you hug another man.”

She shakes her head in jerkish movements. I slap her ass again, and her sex pulses around me. Shit, I think. The body never lies. You can fight, kick, scream, and swear to the heavens, but your body will always tell the truth.

“Do it, or I’ll take your tight virgin ass right now.”

She outstretches her arm, her fingers jittery as she hesitantly coats her hand in his blood. Siân slowly brings her hand to her cheek, but she doesn’t do as I say. Instead, a wave of silent cries hits her in a burst, and I love it, every fucking minute of it.

I tried to be gentle, but this is more me. The hurt, the pain, the murder. This is who I am, and unless she learns to comply, she’s going to have to start getting really acquainted with me.

I watch her closely, losing myself in her sweetness. My lust, unchecked and disturbed, I piston into her over and over, digging my nails deeper into her flesh until I draw blood. From my place behind her, I notice her wince, the infliction giving her the courage she needs to heed my demands.

Finally, she touches her cheek, rubbing her trembling hand into her skin hard and painfully slow. The sight alone is enough to send me over the age, and no sooner than I see her skin painted in our victim’s blood, my balls draw tight, and I plunge into her one more time, emptying my seed and not pulling out until her pretty little pussy drinks it all up.

11

SIN

This can't be my life.

I don't know how long I've been staring at the ceiling, watching as the light from the windows moves across it while the hours pass. None of this feels real. Maybe I just don't want it to be. Because the pain in my body is most definitely real. Evidence of what he did to me today.

That pain, combined with the searing pain of remembering that poor, innocent man lying in a heap in that alley, makes sleep impossible.

Somehow worse is the way Christian can sleep soundly by my side. I know the way he breathes when he's asleep, and he's out cold. How? How could he do all those terrible things—committing murder, using me, being so callous about both—and sleep like a baby? How broken does he have to be to make that possible?

And his ring is on my finger. I'm trapped here with him. A soulless monster only pretends to be human when it fits his plans. That's what this is, too. He only wanted to throw me off guard today. Make me behave myself. A whole carrot and stick thing. Now, all those pretty clothes mean nothing. I'll never be able to wear any of it without remembering today. That poor, clueless man. All he wanted was something to eat.

And now he's dead because of me.

I don't realize I'm crying until the tears begin to pool in my ears and run down the sides of my face. I sniffle as quietly as possible and try like hell to fight them back. I don't want him to wake up. I don't even want to hear his voice.