Page 63 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

He takes a step toward me, and I bolt the other direction, which is the worst possible way to go. I run along the perimeter of the property before I’m forced to make a split-second decision.

Forest or hedge maze.

Shoeless, I settle on the lesser of two evils.

Darting through the opening of the maze, I follow the path I know by heart.

As kids, we spent countless hours chasing each other through these narrow pathways, hiding in secret alcoves, and crawling through small tunnels.

It’s remained largely the same over the years, and I know if I can get to the far edge, I can squeeze through an opening to the backyard.

Then I consider that he might be anticipating that, just as he did when I climbed through the window. So, I wind my way through the maze, turning different directions and slipping through archways until even I don’t know where I’m at.

When I come to one of the alcoves, I pause to listen for him. But all I can hear are the sounds of the island—the rustle of trees, the hoot of an owl, and water lapping against the rocky shoreline.

For a moment, I linger in uncertainty, more terrified by the silence than the sound of his footsteps. Then a twig snapping in the distance startles me, and I step back, intending to hide in the shadow of the alcove. That’s when I bump against something warm, hard, and much larger than me.

Clamping a hand over my mouth, he smothers my scream. I bite into his glove and throw my head back, but it simply bounces off him. He grabs me around the waist, and by some miracle, I fight my way out of his grasp when the fabric of my nightgown tears.

I break into another run, but this time, I only make it a few feet.

He captures me by the hair and yanks me back.

I collide with his chest, the solid wall of muscle jarring my entire body.

He’s much larger than me, and logically, I know I don’t stand a chance.

It doesn’t stop me from fighting anyway.

I thrash, kick, and claw at him anywhere I can reach until he seizes both my arms and secures them behind my back. He’s able to restrain me with only one of his hands, and it feels achingly familiar.

I want it to be Angelo. I want it so badly I can taste it. But I also don’t want him to reveal that just yet. This edge of fear blurring with desire feeds the need inside me—to be hunted down, overpowered, and claimed beyond all reason.

This is what I crave.

“On your knees, prey.”

The voice-modulated command sends another shock of adrenaline through me. It’s so stripped of human identity, it sounds like he’s straight out of a horror movie.

When I don’t obey his order, he presses down on my shoulder, using his brute strength to guide me down onto my knees.

“All that running, only to end up right where you belong.” He strokes my face with his glove, tilting my head back so I’m staring up at the mask. “Are you going to be a good girl and look pretty for me while I use your pussy?”

I tremble beneath his touch, my entire body coming alive even as I glance around hopelessly.

“Go ahead and scream.” He nudges his boot between my feet, prying my legs apart. “I want them to hear you.”

I whimper as he unzips his pants and withdraws his cock, teasing the side of my face with the hard length. That solid heat is so heavy and thick, it could only belong to him.

Without warning, he shoves me down into the dirt and mounts me from behind. Rough hands drag the torn fabric of my chemise up around my hips, leaving me bare for him.

I squirm beneath him and claw my fingers into the ground as he wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes. The delicious crush of his body pressing into mine fills me with the darkest kind of pleasure.

It’s the hunger to feel helpless, to surrender, and give myself over to his power, all while trusting him not to break me. Nothing compares to this feeling.

My body responds to his brutality. The primal way he growls when he yanks my legs apart.

The way he wants this rushes straight to my head.

I want him to fuck me into the ground and use me for his pleasure.

I want him to pin me down and take me so hard I scream.

And I know when he feels how wet I am, that’s exactly what he’ll do.

He rubs his cock against my pussy and groans, the sound so pronounced through the modulator it feels menacing.

“Look how fucking greedy you are dripping for my cock.”

He lets go of my throat, and air expands in my lungs, only for me to choke on it when he starts to push inside. He buries himself deep, and I feel stuffed to my limit.

I shudder around him, waiting for him to move, but instead, I hear him tug on something and drop it to the ground. Somehow, I know it must be his glove, but before I have time to register why, his bare palm collides against my ass… hard.

Warmth blooms across my skin, and I arch up into him only for him to shove me back down and smack me again, over and over until my entire ass feels like it’s on fire.

When he’s finished punishing me, he starts to fuck me, and I collapse on the ground with a whimper. But as he thrusts deep and hard, making me feel every inch of him, the sounds that bleed from my throat escalate.

“That’s it, baby,” he rumbles. “Let everyone know you have my cock inside you.”

He grips both my ass cheeks and spreads me apart, opening me up so he can watch himself fuck me.

“Look at that pretty little pussy wrapped around me so fucking tight.”

A shiver of ecstasy pulses through me as I soak up the praise he’s denied me for so long. With every thrust, electricity sparks inside me as the pressure builds, demanding a release.

He knows.

He always knows.

“Tell me why you think you deserve to come, and I’ll consider it.”

“Because you’ll like the way it feels around you.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs. “And what else?”

“Because I made myself so wet for you.”

“Taking all the credit, are you?”

“What I mean is…” I stumble over the words as he slows his thrusts, edging me to the point of torture. “I want you to relieve this ache inside me.”

A low sound of frustration catches in his throat. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

The weight of that statement settles over me, and somehow, I know he’s referring to the time we were apart. He doesn’t think I could possibly feel it as deeply as he did.

“I ache for you every day,” I whisper. “Even now.”

I regret saying it when he stills inside me.

“You ache for me so much, you kneel for other men.”

“It didnt mean anything.”

“It had to be Ares Stavros,” he bites out.

“I was just doing my job,” I protest. “When I kneel for you, it’s because I want to give myself to you completely.”

“And yet you won’t.”

Because I’m a liar.

There’s nothing I can say to that, and I think I’ve ruined the moment when he pulls out. Then he rolls me onto my back and settles between my thighs, ripping the mask off and tossing it aside.

“This wasn’t how this was supposed to go,” he says.

“I’m sorry.” I meet his eyes, unable to hide the overwhelming emotion in mine.

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” He sighs, leaving the next part unsaid.

I just want you to be mine.

He sinks into me and sets a different pace.

Less punishing, more deliberate. It’s a slow, possessive burn I feel deep in my bones.

When his eyes drift to my lips, I can see how much he wants to kiss me.

But he won’t let himself. I want to beg him to forgive me for leaving him.

I want to tell him to keep me forever. Except, I can’t.

So instead, I wrap my legs around him and thread my fingers through his hair. Then I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in until I come.

It isn’t a violent release. It’s catharsis.

A moment later, he sinks deep inside me, groaning as he empties himself. The warmth of his cum floods my body, and all the tension between us seems to melt away. For a while, we just lay there as he continues to move inside me, like he isn’t ready for it to be over.

I’m not either. But exhaustion starts to pull me under as I look up at him with heavy eyes.

“You’re mine, Abella.” His knuckles graze my face, warmth returning to his touch. “And soon, you’ll have our baby inside you.”

I don’t know who he’s trying to convince—me or himself. I know I shouldn’t verbalize it, but I do.

“What if we fail?”

“I would sooner scorch the earth than concede the Vitale throne to a Stavros,” he declares. “Failure isn’t an option.”