Heartless: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Page 3

  Her thighs clenched against mine as I hurt her tits. I sucked, and I bit, and I slapped, and I made her suffer, but it was slow. So slow that her body got confused, and her shudders turned to moans. Flesh always did – pleasure and pain weave such an intricate dance.

  Her back arched towards me, and her pussy started soaking through my pants as I played, played, played. My flicks against her clit made her gasp for more, and her tears began to fall around a smile.

  Yes.

  She wanted me.

  I pulled her slip off over her head and tossed it to the floor. Then I lifted her with ease until she was standing, feet planted either side of me, legs trembling as I pulled her into me and ran my tongue up her slit. I lapped at her until her hands were in my hair, hips bucking as she whimpered.

  Yes.

  Elaine was desperate for me.

  I played her body like a violin with the tightest strung strings she could ever know.

  I used her body for her pleasure, and I gave her ripples that made her feral as she cried out for more. Because that’s me. I’m a master at everything I do, always – but I’m showing the very best side of the monster when I’m mastering pleasure and pain.

  I sucked on that needy pussy and made Elaine come for me. Over and over. I pushed her to the limits until she was begging, ragged and thrumming, so lost to everything that she was whimpering for my cock inside her. But not yet, not until she tasted the belt I’d promised her.

  I got to my feet, made her bend over the arm of the chair, held a hand flat to the base of her back and I slapped that peach of an ass hard until she screamed, only allowing her to catch a breath in the time it took to free up my belt. I gave her no warning, swung that leather so sweetly it connected with a smack so sharp and brought a cry so gut-wrenchingly loud from the little doll that I almost came in my pants.

  I hit her again and again until finally – with a dick so hard it was aching – I took her.

  I held her head down flat against my leather chair, wrapped my fist in her fake blonde curls, and I took her.

  One thrust. Hard and savage. Impaled all the way to my balls. And her cry was delicious.

  She was tight. Tight and needy.

  She cried out again when I started fucking her.

  It hurt.

  Bad.

  I didn’t hold back.

  Still, she liked it.

  She reached down between her legs and kept circling her clit as I fucked her, and she liked it.

  Her ass cheeks were pink from my slaps, and ridged from my belt, but the little slut fucking liked it.

  “Please!” she moaned. “More! Please!”

  One thing was for sure. The girl really had been a virgin. Her pussy was slick, but tight. I felt her clenching hard enough to milk me dry, trying . . . trying . . .

  Good girl.

  “They were right, weren’t they?” I growled in her ear. “It’s nice to be used by Lucian Morelli.”

  She nodded, even though it must have hurt to move her head with my fist still tangled in her hair.

  “Yes, sir. They were right. They were right!”

  I didn’t come inside her. I pulled out and wrenched her down onto her knees as I reached my peak, working myself fast, and she knew what I wanted. She stared up with pretty eyes, blue and wide. Just like Elaine Constantine’s.

  Enough like Elaine Constantine’s that I gritted my teeth and worked my hand faster.

  “Suck me, Elaine,” I growled, and she did. The dirty little doll sucked me hard.

  I thrust myself into her mouth, right to the back of her throat, and she gurgled and retched, but still, she fucking wanted it. She wanted to be a good girl for me.

  Just like the real Elaine Constantine would have. Only I’d have hurt the real Elaine Constantine a damn sight more than I’d hurt cute little Natalie. I’d have hurt the real Elaine Constantine so bad she’d be a mess on the floor, not sure where her pain ended and lust began, they’d be too fucking blurred to tell the difference.

  I loved it that way.

  Dominant didn’t come anywhere near describing what a dark, filthy fucker I was in this life. Nothing ever could.

  Nobody would ever understand it. Nobody would ever understand me.

  Nobody could ever understand my freak of a body, so tainted in its strengths, and my freak of a mind to match.

  I hitched my fingers in her cheeks and splayed them wide, still thrusting my dick in her mouth as she moaned. And then I came. Pulled my dick from her pretty mouth and came. One spurt that covered her face, then another that made her retch.

  “Open!” I barked and she opened wide, holding still until every last spurt had filled her mouth.

  “Swallow,” I told her, and she did. Yet again, she was a good girl for me.

  I left her gasping and walked away in a beat, composing myself with deep breaths.

  Under usual circumstances, I’d have gone straight back in for another round, but that night was different. I looked over at the beautiful thing on my floor, and for the first time that I could ever remember, I didn’t want another round.

  Not with her.

  I wanted the true, genuine Elaine Constantine. Not a girl trying to be her.

  Fuck.

  Freshly deflowered Natalie moved a bit closer on her knees, looking up at me with another smile on her face.

  “More, sir?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, sweetheart. I’m done. You can go now.”

  She stayed on her knees, paused, and I smirked at her, and myself, because I knew it. I always knew it.

  Natalie didn’t want to go.

  “Go. Now,” I told her, and she nodded as she came to her senses.

  My used up little dolly grabbed her lace slip from the floor and held it tight to her chest as she dashed to the elevator.

  “Thank you, sir,” she told me before she stepped inside to leave.

  I didn’t even bother saying goodbye.

  I should have thought about a million things as I paced back to the windows and stared out over the New York skyline. I should have thought about high-end trade affairs, and corporate business, and Trenton Alto’s seedy deals with the Kelly family across the Atlantic. Maybe pondered whether I should arrange a chat with my brother Declan about how Alto was handling our Irish business.

  But no.

  I wasn’t thinking about the million things I should be thinking about; I was thinking about one thing and one thing only.

  The woman in gold.

  I was still thinking about the woman in gold.

  Elaine fucking Constantine.

  I roused Trenton from his slumber when I called him this time.

  “What?” he asked. “Was the girl no good?”

  I laughed. “She was good enough. This is about something else. Someone else.”

  Even Trenton baulked when I gave him his next instructions.

  “You’re out of your fucking mind,” he said.

  4

  Elaine

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  Tristan’s face was a picture, hands in his hair as he paced my lounge.

  “He didn’t tell anyone,” I told him. “Even Silas had more sense than that.”

  “Yeah, but he could have. He could have gone straight out of there and told the whole ball that Lucian Morelli was in the building. You wouldn’t be standing here, Elaine. There’s no way your mom would let you sleep at night knowing you’d had any of the Morelli’s fingers inside you, let alone his.”

  I found myself shrugging. “Plenty of things could have happened. Lucian Morelli could have broken my neck and taken a handful of others down with me before security got to him and blew him away. But he didn’t.”

  Tristan Fields had been my best friend and most trusted ear in this world since I was twelve years old. He’d seen me do plenty of crazy shit in the past thirteen years, but nothing had ever made him stare at me like I was this crazy. I guess I’d topped the pinnacle of crazy Elaine.
A high mountain to climb, but I’d managed it.

  I swigged back another gulp of gin. “It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.”

  “I’d fucking hope not. Believe me, baby, I’d be telling your mom myself if I thought that was gonna happen. You’d stand more chance of making it out alive with her on your case than him. Close call, but I know where I’d put my cash.”

  I closed my eyes to ease off my thump of a hangover, but it made no difference. My brain was jammed plenty by Tristan carrying on his speech.

  “You do know he was playing you, right? He probably thinks you’re an easy road into Constantine life. If he didn’t think he could trick you into giving him what he needs, he’d have killed you the very second he had you alone.”

  Something about that offended me. It may not have made any sense that it did, because he was probably right. Tristan’s words made perfect sense. Still, it offended me. Something about that concept twisted my heart and made it hurt.

  I was stupid. Totally stupid. Stupid to want to believe there was anything other than hate and purpose behind Lucian grabbing me at Tinsley’s party . . . but, stupid or not, I wanted there to be. Some twisted, fucked up part of me wanted there to be.

  I shrugged again. “Yeah, he was probably playing me.”

  “Definitely. He was definitely playing you.”

  I stared at him. “Yeah, he was playing me. Like I said, I’m never going to see him again. What does it matter?”

  He tipped his head and matched my stare. His eyes were cold, green pools of disapproval, and I hated that. Tristan was always on my side.

  “If you see him again, Lainey, you have to scream and run, understand? No matter how slick he is with his fingers, you have to scream and run. No excuses.”

  “Of course I would run,” I told him, telling myself at the same time. “I might have been reckless, but I’m not that insane.”

  The way he shook his head showed me he didn’t believe me. In that moment, he thought I was as insane as the rest of the world did. I felt offended all over again, but I didn’t say anything. I deserved this.

  I always did.

  “Have you told Harriet yet?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Hopefully Silas doesn’t tell her before you do.”

  “Silas doesn’t tell Harriet anything. He may be her brother, but they have about as much in common as a swan and a boar.”

  He smirked at that. “I’m not sure Silas would like the analogy.”

  I smirked back, even through my hangover. “He can be a boar.”

  “In actions, not in visuals.”

  “Still, he can be a boar. An attractive boar, but a boar all the same.”

  “True enough.”

  He sat down alongside me and took hold of my hand. His fingers were strong. It was the kind of strength I’d enjoyed for years, him sitting next to me as we whispered through our fears and struggles.

  I knew what suggestion was coming before he spoke.

  “Can you go back to Dr. Karlin again? I think you need it.”

  “Therapy makes no difference. It’s never made any difference.”

  He squeezed my fingers. “You don’t let it make any difference.” He gestured to the glass in my other hand. “It stands a shit ton more chance of working than gin, or champagne, or coke.”

  My defences came up. “I’m not doing as much of any of them as I did.”

  I felt his eyes on me. Again, I could feel the disapproval. “That’s not what Harriet said. I saw her at the Aegean last week, and she said Jonesy was telling her just how much you’ve been buying.”

  My cheeks burned. “Jonesy shouldn’t be telling Harriet anything. It’s not her business.”

  “Even he is worried.”

  “He shouldn’t be.”

  “I’m worried, Lainey. Really fucking worried.”

  He took the drink from my hand.

  I groaned. “Quit it, will you? I’m fine.”

  I’d always been a liar – I’d needed to be – but even I was pushing it. I was less fine than I’d ever been in my life, and again, that was a high mountain to climb. Or more like a deep swamp to sink to the bottom of.

  Sometimes I wished I could find the voice to say what I truly needed to say. I wished I could summon up the words to confess just how broken I was inside and why. Secrets, secrets, shhh, little girl. I wished I could spit it out and live with the consequences rather than reaching the end with the secrets still stabbing me in silence. So, so many secrets . . .

  I couldn’t.

  I could never tell my secrets.

  With that thought, I grabbed the gin back from Tristan and took another swig.

  He sighed. “Please go back to Dr. Karlin.”

  “Please stop bleating on about it.”

  We sat in silence until I tried to change the subject.

  “How did it go with the rock superstar? What was his name? Indigo Peacock or something?”

  “Blue Hawk.”

  I laughed. “Is he one of those indie peace man types?”

  He laughed along. “No. He’s one of those not-sure-if-he-really-wants-dick-or-not types.”

  “Sounds like you just a few years ago.”

  Tristan had taken a whole lot of time to finally accept that he was bisexual. I’d been there through the journey, knowing way earlier than he did that he had a fixation for hot guys as well as women. His parents had been . . . tough. Especially tough on a son who lived his life outside of their trailer park status quo. I still remembered his scars. Scars had been the very first thing we’d had in common.

  I loved his smile as he looked at me. “I don’t have years to wait until he works out if he wants to take dick. There are plenty of dicks out there ready and willing.”

  “And pussies.”

  He leaned his head against my shoulder. “And pussies.”

  Once upon a time I’d wished that Tristan could be my one and only. That maybe he’d fall in love with me and I’d fall in love with him, and we could keep it secret. Secret enough that he wouldn’t be destroyed for enjoying my body.

  I’d always loved the way he looked. Hair rich and mahogany, cheekbones sculpted just right, even when they were swollen with bruises. When I was a teenager, I really did think he could be the one. My Tristan Fields, forever.

  Those days were gone. My imagination had shrivelled to nothing, and any illusions of a happy ever after for me were dead and buried.

  “You’re lucky. You can have all the dick and pussy you want,” I said and felt that horrible flare of hurt inside. Just like I always did.

  Tristan’s smile disappeared. “They can’t hold you back forever, Lainey. If you meet someone fitting, and you talk to your mom about it . . .”

  I pulled my hand from his and held it up. “Stop. You know that’s bullshit as much as I do. Mom will never let anyone lay a hand on me. Not unless it suits her that I marry them.”

  He wrenched my hand back down and squeezed it all over again. “She’ll never let anyone you think’s good enough lay a hand on you. Your taste is bad.”

  “My taste doesn’t fit their criteria of acceptable.”

  “Just as well, or their criteria of acceptable would be acceptably fucked up.”

  I let out a sigh and leaned against him, loving the way his arms wrapped me up, even though he thought I was an idiot today. He was the only one who would do it, give me his genuine warmth and not the fake kisses and smiles people all around me gave.

  I tried to indulge him in talk of him and not me.

  “Are you seeing this Hawk guy again, then?”

  “Next Saturday. He’s playing a gig at Cyrus Bar, an intimate little show. Looks great.” He paused. “You could come if you wanted.”

  “Where the hell is Cyrus Bar?”

  “Downtown. About as far as you could get from the world of Bishop’s Landing.”

  It sure sounded a world away from Bishop’s Landing. Bishop’s Landing looked down its nose at
anyone without a billion dollars in their back pocket.

  Yeah. I liked the damn sound of Cyrus Bar, downtown.

  I called up my diary on my cell. I had some crappy charity affair on Saturday night, but I could ditch it. Fuck it, I would ditch it. I wanted to check out this Blue Hawk guy for myself.

  “You coming?” Tristan pushed. “I’ll need to get you on the guest list. It’s a sell-out.”

  “Yeah, I’m coming. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet a hot rocker guy for myself.”

  “You’d be signing their death sentence if you did, and you know it.”

  Yeah. I knew it. Even a sniff of my involvement with a rock god would put a bullet in the poor guy’s head.

  Tristan’s next words were a whisper. A whisper with a chill.

  “Promise me one thing. Swear on your heart you won’t ever fall for Lucian Morelli.”

  “I won’t,” I told him.

  “So promise me.”

  I looked into his eyes and summoned up the fire inside. Because I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ever fall for Lucian Morelli.

  “Swear on my heart and hope to die,” I told him, and hooked my finger in his.

  That appeased him. He was smiling as he hooked my finger right back.

  Just a shame for me that I spent most of my life hoping to die anyway.

  5

  Lucian

  “Trenton Alto is here for you,” my secretary said, poking her head around the door.

  I waved at her to let him in.

  “Not like you to come here,” I grunted as he walked on through and sat himself down across my desk from me.

  “Not like you to ask for something so black listed.” He leaned back in his seat. “This was expensive. And risky.”

  “I’m well aware of both,” I told him. “Is it comprehensive?”

  “It’s comprehensive. Changeable, but comprehensive.”

  He handed the business card across the desk, and I took it. “This is accurate, is it?”

  “From a reputable source.”

  “Good.” I stared at the encrypted web address.

  “How the hell do you think you’re gonna get into these places? They’ll shoot you dead on sight.”