Page 42 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

I use the juice she squirted all over me as lube, stroking my dick as I admire her ass. It’s so round, soft, and bouncy, I want to use it like a playground and see how far I can launch myself off it. I smack it and watch it jiggle. She moans again.

I squeeze and grope and massage it, trying to summon my restraint. I’m still rock-hard and nowhere close to being done with her. I could do this for hours, and it still wouldn’t be enough. But for now, once more will have to suffice.

When I remove the plug from her ass and see what’s waiting for me, I admire that too.

“Mmm.” I grab her ass cheeks and spread them apart. “Look at how well you stretch for me. I’m going to fit in there just right.”

A faint flush of color washes across her cheeks as she squirms under my examination.

“What’s the matter?” I tease. “Feeling shy?”

“Are you just going to stare at it all day?”

“Get used to it.” I smack her ass again. “I’m going to see every intimate detail of you in ways you haven’t even thought of.”

When I press the head of my cock against her, she glances at me over her shoulder, eyes wide with uncertainty.

That little glimpse of vulnerability claws its way into my chest. Without thinking it through, I reach down and pet her face.

She closes her eyes, soaking up that warmth, and the moment stretches out for far too long.

Then I remember this is supposed to be a punishment.

“This ass was made to be fucked, cara .” I let go of her face and lean back. “You practically dared me today with what you did. You should know better than to call my bluff.”

“I know.” She bites her lip.

I give her a moment to settle her nerves, pausing to take my shirt off. Her eyes burn a slow path down the ridge of my abs to the open waistband of my trousers, her pupils flaring.

“Like what you see?” I muse.

She nods, her lips parting like she wants to say something, but I don’t want to hear it.

She gave this up.

I grab two handfuls of her ass and start to push inside her. She gasps at the first inch, her body tensing as I go deeper. She’s so fucking small compared to me, it doesn’t matter how much I stretch her out first, it will always look like I’m tearing her in half.

I probably shouldn’t like that so much.

“You’re doing well,” I praise her. “Just keep breathing.”

“It’s so much,” she whispers.

I bite back a groan. “It’s only half.”

She clutches the blanket with her fists, and I take a minute to let her relax. Pressing my thumbs into the small of her back, I massage my way up her spine. The span of my palms across that soft, golden landscape reminds me just how delicate she is.

I’ll have to suppress the urge to fuck her like the animal she’s turned me into. This is what years of prison does to a man. But despite everything, I want her to enjoy this and beg me to do it again.

After a while, her tension dissolves and she melts into the bed. I manage to sink in a couple more inches, and she surrenders. The view is incomparable—her body so languid and pliable, stretched wide just for me.

So fucking owned.

“Look how perfect you are,” I rasp. “You look like you were custom-made just for my cock.”

She shivers beneath me, her body clenching as she lazes in the glow of those words.

I close my eyes and retreat an inch, then rock back into her. A primal sound rips from her throat as she arches into me, letting out a desperate little cry.

“That’s it,” I tell her. “You’re going to feel all of it now.”

She nods, silently pleading for more.

I give it to her—setting a slow pace as I thrust into her, letting her tread water before I throw her into the deep end.

With every penetration, I feel the pressure of the vaginal plug through the thin wall inside her.

I know she feels it too. She’s overstimulated and aching for another release already.

The cries spilling out of her rise in pitch until she’s trembling, pleading between broken breaths. I intend to draw it out, make her wait, but the little traitor is already coming apart at the seams. Her body bucks beneath me as she claws at the blankets, tension stringing her tight.

“Don’t do it.” I smack her ass. “Not yet.”

Apparently, she was also custom-made to defy me.

Her body jerks as a scream rips from her throat, and she contracts so violently, she ejects the vaginal plug and squirts all over me—again.

“Fuck,” I growl, stilling inside her to get a goddamn grip.

It doesn’t work. I feel every tremor rippling through her, and it effectively milks the last of my self-control right out of me.

I’m not even moving when my cock begins to pulse, and surges of cum spill inside her. I close my eyes and let it all out, abdominals contracting so hard, it forces the breath from my lungs.

After a few minutes, when I finally feel like I can fucking breathe again, I open my eyes and glance down at Abella. She’s limp with pleasure—hair wrecked, mascara smeared down her cheeks—the vision of thoroughly fucked. There’s something about seeing her so degraded that I can’t help but enjoy it.

I could stay right here, buried in the warmth that feels so good wrapped around my dick. But she’ll be asleep soon if I don’t extricate myself now. I can see the rise and fall of her chest growing shallower, and heaviness settling over her eyes. I’ve exhausted her.

Reluctantly, I pull my cock free from her, glancing down at the mess. There’s a wet patch on the bed and all over me. Fuck, that’s hot. I make a mental note to have her do that again, on repeat.

I lean down and gather her up in my arms, shifting her to the dry side of the bed. I drape her on her back, then prop a pillow under her hips.

“I thought that was an old wives’ tale,” she murmurs sleepily.

“It can’t hurt.”

I stare at the cum leaking out of both her holes, and it feeds the beast in me. I scrape a rough hand over my face, then close her legs before I do something irrational—like fuck her again.

My gaze drifts up to find her watching me, looking far too vulnerable with those fucking bruises on her face.

Before I can think better of it, I reach down and brush my thumb across her cheek, regretting the decision to deal with Maurizio later. He may be suffering right now, but it isn’t nearly enough. It won’t be enough until I can unleash the full scale of my wrath on him.

Abella closes her eyes, softening beneath my touch. Again, I wonder if she’s still thinking of Matteo. If she’ll always think of him.

Perhaps in that regard, killing him only memorialized him in her thoughts. Death has a way of erasing every flaw, and I can’t compete with a ghost. But I couldn’t allow him to breathe one more second, either.

She lets out a soft breath when my hand retreats. “Are you leaving?”

“Rest for a few minutes.” I drape a blanket over her. “I’ll be back to clean you up.”

She nods, already drifting off.

I watch her for a while, the way I often did when she had no idea I was present. Then I go into the bathroom, strip off my clothes, and fist my cock. I replay everything that just happened and wash it all down the drain.