Page 47 of Villainous Kingpin

I cupped her cheek, brushing our noses together. If Priest was watching us, he’d know I was whipped. I didn’t give a fuck. I’d found my perfection and my light in the darkness of the underworld.

Everything about her fascinated me. Every single word. Every single look. Every-fucking-thing.

She was my perfection. My perfect opposite. My sweetest obsession.

“Want to go back to our room?” I asked as I skimmed a thumb across her full bottom lip.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she answered mischievously, her lips curved in a soft smile.

* * *

I came out of the shower to find Wynter fast asleep and theGood Girlsshow we were watching still playing. It wouldn’t have been my pick. A total chick flick, but I wanted to make her happy. She seemed excited for it and I’d give her anything she wanted just to see her eyes shining.

Although I suspected the show might be a bad influence on her and her friends.

Dropping to my haunches next to her, I watched her sleep for a moment. She was curled up in a fetal position sleeping, facing the bathroom door, as if she was waiting for me. Her hands were folded under her cheek and one of her smooth feet half hanging off the bed. She wore a little tank top and hot pink boy shorts.

Fuck, her ass was perfection. When she started trailing her fingers over my muscles, her touch feather light, I had to fight the urge not to roll her over and rip her clothes off. Just her scent was enough to get me rock-hard.

But I was too worked up from earlier that night, the need to kill burning inside my chest. Wynter didn’t deserve an angry fuck. I wouldn’t do that to her. Never to her. She deserved romance, wining, and dining.

I rubbed my face. Fuck, I had lost my goddamn mind, pining after a woman so desperately.

Every monster has a weakness and she’s mine.My obsession. My addiction. My only salvation.

She looked like an angel with her long, blonde eyelashes fanning her cheeks. She took a deep breath, then sighed softly. How peaceful she looked. I wanted her to keep that peaceful and innocent look she held.

Leaving her to sleep in peace, I headed out of the room and down to the secured basement Priest kept for men like our newest guest. Priest was all about the ironies in life. Three stories up, there were the most luxurious bedrooms of Philly. Down here, it was hell for anyone that dared to double-cross us.

I found our guest tied to a chair and Priest already entertaining himself, reciting his version of the man's last rites.

“May the Holy Spirit free you from this miserable life and your sins swallow you whole with the grace of the Holy Spirit. Amen, motherfucker.”

Priest was a sick fucker. Good thing he was my cousin and I loved him.

I stalked toward our guest, fury burning in my veins. The best thing would be to smash his skull into the wall and have his brain spill all over the ground. That would be too quick of an end for this creepy weasel.

“So you think you can grope my woman, huh?” I asked, my voice hoarse with the rage I tried to contain.

“I didn’t know she was yours,” he cried, his beady eyes full of terror. His hand was covered in blood, the fingers I cut off dangling from a necklace Priest must have made while waiting for me.

Like I said… a sick motherfucker.

“Doesn’t matter, buddy,” Priest drawled. “No groping of any woman in my club. You just fucked up an extra by touching Basilio’s woman.” My cousin’s eyes met mine. “Time to get dirty.”

“And I just took a shower,” I feigned disappointment, though anger burned my throat. The only reason I took a shower was to get some space from Wynter before I caved into the sweetest temptation. I wanted to touch her and fuck her until she felt this same obsession that burned in my chest.

I took a knife from Priest and jabbed it into our guest’s thigh. He roared in agony, but I was just getting started. I twisted the knife, turning it sharply and his eyes rolled back.

He wouldn’t last long.

“See, fucker,” I started with my psychotic smile, “there is one thing I hate more than anything else in the world.” He whimpered like the baby that he was. “Ask me what it is,” I drawled.

“W-what is it?”

“People that hurt the weaker ones. The innocent ones. Do you know what I do to them?” He whimpered in response, shaking his head. “Kill them.”

I watched him pale, his pupils dilated realizing he’d never get out of this one. He was a dead man. But first he’d suffer and beg me to kill him. My eyes settled on him, trying to decide the best way to cause him pain. Or the worst way, depending how you looked at it.