Page 22 of Forbidden Empire (Sinful Gods #1)

Nine

E SME

Every step I took across Aidon’s office was a risk.

The creak of the floorboards beneath my feet echoed in the darkness, loud enough to make me wince. I hesitated, my heart hammering, praying he wouldn’t hear me.

Beyond the glass walls, the city pulsed with neon and electricity, Las Vegas Boulevard lit up in a perpetual flash of color, all garish and alive.

Even at this hour, tourists crawled the Strip like ants, a shameless procession of laughter, slurred voices, and cash burning in their pockets.

My gaze snagged on a woman in stilettos that defied logic. She staggered, friends gripping her elbows, keeping her upright as she tottered close to the curb and a dangerous outcome.

A groan slipped out, low and irritated. People here never changed. No matter how blinding the lights, the darkness beneath always found a way to seep through.

I tore my attention away from the window, focusing on Aidon’s massive desk.

Before making any moves, I shot a nervous glance at the doorway, needing to know I was alone.

Most of his drawers were shut tight, locked, as I’d expected.

Of course. I gritted my teeth.

“Dammit,” I whispered, turning to the credenza behind me instead, refusing to give up.

There was something Aidon was hiding.

I felt it to my bones. But what? That was the question.

After the ambush, he’d left in a rush, straight to the hospital to check on Ares.

He’d locked me in the penthouse, a guard keeping me from leaving, but that hadn’t stopped me from searching for answers.

If Aidon thought isolation would keep me from snooping, he was dead wrong.

Anticipation surged through me, making my fingers tremble as I tried another drawer on the credenza.

I held in a sigh of relief when it slid open.

I knelt, rifling through the files, but the thrill faded just as fast.

Just paperwork, dull and ordinary. Beverage receipts, food orders for Underworld. Typical for Aidon, locking up the good stuff and leaving the rest to rot.

Pushing to my feet, I faced the desk again, determination sharpening inside me. If I wanted real answers, I’d have to pick those locks.

My pulse spiked when footsteps sounded outside, each one closer, heavier, unmistakable.

Aidon.

He appeared in the doorway, rage sharpened the lines of his face.

His eyes locked on me, hard and unflinching, cold with accusation. “Looking for something, you little thief?”

That anger, I knew it well.

Aidon always seemed angry with me, always ready to catch me in the act.

And now he had.

There was no point denying I’d been snooping, so I wouldn’t bother.

I smirked, shrugged, and leaned my hip against his desk, forcing myself to look easy, careless, as if his presence wasn’t making my pulse stutter out of control every time he turned that furious gaze on me.

“Just wanted to see what the great Aidon kept hidden,” I tossed back.

He closed the distance, his presence becoming overwhelming, and he brought his face inches from mine. “You realize you’re playing with fire, Esme?”

He took a step closer, and I matched it, retreating backward, edging toward the windows, both of us locked in this old, dangerous dance.

I lifted my chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away, meeting that heat in his eyes head-on.

“Maybe,” I said. I wasn’t about to let him see how much he affected me.

He advanced again, closing the space, until my back hit the glass. Neon lights bled across the city below, but all I could feel was the heat of Aidon’s body crowding mine.

“Why do you keep testing me, Esme? Do you want to see what happens when you push me too far?”

A slow, twisted smile curled my lips right before I whispered, husky, taunting, seductive, “Maybe I do, Aidon.”

And he played right into my hands.

His hand cut through the space between us and gripped my hip, jerking me in, pressing me flush against the hard line of his erection.

His other hand tangled in my hair at the base of my skull, yanking my head back until I gasped. Then his mouth crashed down on mine, hot and hungry, lips parting me open with a force that left no room for resistance.

This was my choice, my passion, my desire, and nobody else’s.

I whined into the kiss, overwhelmed by heat and desire, his tongue slipping deep and tangling with mine until I couldn’t distinguish where I ended and he started.

We kissed like two animals starved for the same thing, fighting for control, neither of us giving in, neither of us willing to lose.

My arms wound around his neck, dragging him down, demanding more, and the electricity between us only burned hotter, stinging and wilder.

My hands clutched at his shirt, fists twisting, desperate to pull him closer, to dissolve the last inch of space between us.

Inside, my thoughts fought a war all their own. I should have pulled away.

I told myself to stop. To break free.

But I only wanted more. I melted into him, opened myself wider, and let him in deeper.

When he released my hair, his hands found my hips, gripping tight and lifting me up.

Without a second thought, I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him as he pinned me against the window.

The hem of my dress rode up high, baring me completely, leaving nothing between us but a fever neither of us wanted to cure.

He groaned, low and rough, as his fingers found my pussy.

Calloused fingertips slid through my slick folds, dipping into me. I gasped, arching despite myself, my body betraying every lie I wanted to tell. There was no hiding the wetness or the need, not with him.

His mouth tore from mine, breath hot, searching my face.

I blinked, hard, desperate not to look at him, not to let him see the want in my eyes, the hunger in my body, the way every part of me burned for him.

If he looked, he’d find the war inside me—raw and exposed, tangled up in want and shame.

But he could feel it, all of it, in the way my body moved against his hand.

“Mmm, you’re so wet,” he groaned, the words dark velvet in my ear, his mouth dragging molten, hungry kisses down the slope of my neck.

His finger pressed deeper, and I spread my thighs wider, greedy for more of him, desperate for every inch.

A second finger plunged inside.

God, I was so slick, so ready, and the feeling made me quiver around his hand as he fucked me relentlessly, his palm grinding just right.

My hips jerked up to meet each delicious thrust, needing him harder, faster, as pleasure crackled and bloomed sharp and wild inside me.

“Say it, Esme,” he growled, thick, rough, and barely held together by lust.

Fuck.

Aidon had me cornered, right where he wanted me, and he knew it.

He expected me to break for him, to admit that I belonged to him, that I was his, body and soul.

But no. Not a chance. Nobody would ever own me. I’d never give him that satisfaction.

Even if my body was a traitor, shuddering under the assault of his hand, clenching around his fingers, every nerve ending screaming for surrender, for him, for more.

I wasn’t giving in. Not yet.

Breath hissed out of me, tight and defiant.

I pressed my mouth to his, lips gentle at first, then teeth sinking into his lower lip, a silent refusal to back down.

He groaned, the sound torn between hunger and frustration, and I knew I wasn’t the only one caught up in this war.

The question was always how much he could take before he lost control, before this little game of ours spun into something dangerous.

Aidon’s patience was infamous, a legend whispered in wary tones.

He was calculating, cool, always in control, right up until you pushed him past the breaking point. And I had a feeling we were standing on the razor’s edge of that moment, right here, right now.

He tried to pull away, but I bit down again, my teeth sinking into his lush bottom lip until it gave beneath the pressure.

“Esme!” he barked, hand flying to his mouth.

When he drew his fingers away, I caught the smear of blood on his cheek and felt a wicked satisfaction twist inside me.

“I told you not to do that again!” His eyes went black, pupils blown wide with a furious, almost decadent hunger.

But the pain only drove him wilder. He crashed his mouth back to mine, rougher this time, his kiss bruising and wild.

His hand plunged between my thighs, fingers slamming inside me, fucking me hard and fast against the window.

Angry now, he lost all restraint. And I let him.

I reveled in it, the ferocity, the raw, violent pleasure that only Aidon could rip from me.

Every thrust, every punishing flick of his fingers, sent jolts of ecstasy ricocheting through my body, fracturing me in the best way.

Pleasure built, ruthless and hot, cresting inside me with every ragged breath. My thighs fell open, mouth open wider, surrendering completely as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

“Yes,” I whimpered, letting my head fall to his shoulder as he poured every bit of energy and focus into the relentless rhythm of his fingers, pushing my desire to a fever pitch.

His mouth hovered at my ear, his breath ragged and hot.

“Goddammit, Esme,” he growled, voice raw, “you’re so fucking sexy. Your pussy feels so good…so fucking wet and hot.”

A shiver raced down my spine.

“Please don’t stop,” I gasped, the words tumbling out between shallow breaths. “I need you to keep going.”

He kept the pace steady, holding me right on the precipice.

“Still pretending this doesn’t mean anything?” The question was a blade, sharp and impossible to ignore.

My eyes snapped open at his words, the cold shock of reality slicing through the haze.

I was letting this go too far, letting him inside in ways I’d promised myself I never would.

I jerked my head back, fighting to meet his eyes, even as his fingers thrust relentlessly inside my desperate, clenching heat.

“I don’t belong to you, Aidon,” I bit out, through trembling lips and praying he wouldn’t stop, not until I shattered.

Anger flared in his eyes, dark and electric. He increased his speed, fucked me harder, punishing and perfect, just like I wanted.

I ground down onto his hand, chasing that desperate pleasure, moaning as the pressure built.

I was seconds from coming undone, teetering at the edge, when out of nowhere, he pulled his hand away.

The loss hit me like a slap.

I whimpered, aching, every nerve ending burning for him.

I searched his face, wild and pleading, needing him to finish what he started.

Then I saw it. The twisted, triumphant grin he wore made my stomach drop.

He’d won, and he knew it.

“You will belong to me, Esme,” he hissed, letting my legs slip down and stepping back, leaving me open and wanting.

I glared at him, letting him see pure rage in my stare, even as my body screamed with unsatisfied need.

He spun on his heel and strode out of his office, abandoning me there, skirt shoved up, thighs slick, pulse thundering with frustration.

“You bastard,” I snarled into the darkness, yanking my skirt down with shaking hands.

His laughter echoed down the hall, taunting and victorious.

In that moment, I wanted to hate him more than I’d ever hated anyone.

But all I could taste was the bitter hunger he left behind.