Empire of Sin(Empire #2)(59)

And for some reason, that Anastasia seems more real than the Jane persona she’s hiding behind.

A straw hangs in her mouth as she drinks from a sparkly blue glass and frantically checks her surroundings.

She looks a little bit lost, unfocused, almost like all the external stimuli are about to crush her in their clutches. I can taste her anxiety in the air with every step I take toward her.

Not only is she gripping her drink tight, but she also adjusts her glasses every second and lowers her head whenever she makes random eye contact with someone.

Inexplicably, that makes me want to reach out to people’s eyeballs and blind them for causing her to feel such distress.

For being the cause of her discomfort.

And that’s wrong, isn’t it?

I’m not supposed to be on the verge of losing it only because she’s staring at people and hates it. I’m not supposed to be this worked up about a girl who’s so secretive about who she is that it drives me bloody insane sometimes.

Upon seeing me approaching, her posture stiffens and she’s about to stand up, but before she does, I sit beside her and grab her by the thigh. “Where do you think you’re going, beautiful?”

“To find Gwen and the others.”

“Why? To parade this new look of yours? I thought Jane doesn’t like dressing up.”

“I…don’t. Gwen made me do it.”

“Hmm. But you went along with it anyway. Maybe you do like it.” My voice is too calm, despite the unhinged emotions going on inside me at the same time.

She lifts her chin. “Maybe I do.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said, maybe I do like it.”

“What exactly? Dressing up in a low-cut dress or coming to clubs to show it off? Or maybe it’s dancing with boys and having them look at what that dress hides. Maybe you want them to imagine what’s underneath it.” My fingers latch onto the fallen strap and I lift it up her shoulder, enjoying her shudder. “Maybe you like being a little fucking tease.”

“Maybe…I do.”

“Is that so?” I snap the strap back in place, my voice battling to keep its cool, but my touch is sure and firm as I sneak my other hand that’s on her thigh underneath her dress. “Do you want them to feel what it’s like between your thighs, beautiful?”

She places her drink on the table, hands trembling when my fingers meet the edge of her underwear. “No…”

“No…what? You don’t want them to feel how soaking wet you are, my little liar?” I glide my fingers against her folds, then twirl her clit, and she slouches forward, her shoulder brushing against my arm.

“Oh, God…”

“You still didn’t answer my question, Anastasia. Do you like it when they see you like this, all done up and beautiful?”

“I…I do.”

I pinch her clit and she whimpers, the sound so erotic that my dick responds immediately, tenting in my trousers.

“Do you fantasize about them touching you here? Playing with your clit and thrusting their fingers in your soaking little cunt?”

She stares at me then, and even though the club is dimly lit, I can see the mixture of emotions in her eyes. The hurt and the determination. The pain and the promise for retribution.

It’s something about her. Even when she’s down and overwhelmed, she never acts like a weakling or a pushover.

She definitely feels more and more like a princess, since her dignity always comes first.

“Maybe you do,” she whispers.

“What?”

“Maybe you like imagining them touching me, thrusting their fingers and dicks inside me while you watch.”

I grab her by the cunt harshly and she hisses in a breath. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

I pull her panties aside and thrust two fingers inside her in one go. She moans, snuggling into my side and gripping my hand over her dress.

But it’s pointless because I’m pounding inside her now and adding a third finger until she whimpers. Until she’s holding on to me and staring at me with frantic eyes as I touch her savagely.

As I touch her with the intent to make her come as hard as possible.

I want her to detonate here and now, for the world to see who the fuck she belongs to.

My fingers drive deep into her pussy, needing to purge those fucking thoughts out of her, needing her to only see and think about me.

To only be with me.

Her short nails dig into my arm as she trembles violently and then she hides her face in my neck, biting down on the flesh of my pulse as she shakes violently.

The shattering force of her orgasm swallows my fingers, but I don’t release her, keeping them deep inside her.

She’s breathing harshly against my neck, panting as she releases my flesh.

“You think I want anyone to feel you like this? Or that I would let them fucking touch you?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Daniel said you share with him.”

“You talked to Daniel?”

“Yeah.”

I’m going to fucking kill him.

“Was he lying?” she asks slowly, painfully even.

“He wasn’t. We did share, but that doesn’t apply to you. I won’t share you with Daniel or anyone else.”