Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5)(18)

“You hurt me,” I say with a dispassionate tone.

“You want a prize for that?” She strains, trying to get free, but I’m pinning her so thoroughly she’s barely able to move.

“No. I’m more interested in justice. You hurt me, so I should hurt you back, don’t you think?”

To her credit, she tries to hide it, but her eyes widen the slightest bit, and to my fucking surprise, it’s not out of fear.

A spark just passed through the dim colour of her eyes, almost like a shooting star in a moonless night. It disappears as soon as it appears.

Well, well, well.

Looks like Teal Van Doren has perfect control over her expression. But there’s something she’s not quite successful at controlling — something that permeates the air with a musky, distinctive smell.

“Are you turned on by the prospect of being hurt, ma belle?” I smirk, drawing out the words slowly.

“You wish.”

“You did come by nipple pain just now. Does the thought of pain make you soaked?”

She purses her lips but says nothing to deny or to confirm.

“You know.” I slide my phone into the pocket of my trousers and reach my fingers to lift her chin.

Her lips are pink, full, and have this heart shape that could use some devouring or could be wrapped around Ron Astor the Second — I’m not picky.

She glares at me as if she wishes she could bite my eye out with her teeth. I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a bit crazy, and fuck me, it’s starting to grow on me.

“You don’t have to hide it. I can feel your arousal on my stomach and smell it in the fucking air.”

She clenches her thighs then loosens them with the intent to come down. I slam her against the wall again.

The moment she gasps, I crush my lips to hers. She tastes like…madness, the type you can never get away from or with. It’s the type that gets under your skin, and soon enough, you don’t know whether you’re losing your sanity or your life.

Her lips tremble as if she doesn’t know what to do or how to do it. Her tongue moves tentatively against mine before it stops. She doesn’t kiss me back, but I don’t allow her the chance to.

For the first time in my life, I fucking feast on someone. Using my grip on her jaw, I squeeze it open so I can claim her tongue, bite it with my teeth, suck it with my lips. I steal her breath and her damn sanity just like she’s been doing with me.

She stirred up my ugly side, and now she has to become its target.

I, Ronan Astor, the most attentive lover you could ever find, want to break someone — but not just anyone.

Her.

I want to smash her tiny body against mine until she can never find an escape. And I want her to enjoy every second of it.

Tiny teeth latch onto my lower lip then bite — hard. Both of us taste the strong metal as she shoves away from me.

In her attempts to pull away, she stumbles to her unsteady feet. I expect her to fight me, to curse me, but she simply stares at my lips, at the blood she left there, as if she can’t look away. Then she wipes the blood off hers, still not breaking eye contact with my lips.

It’s like she’s in a trance and can’t break free.

Seeming to realise that, she turns around, and as I warned her she would, she runs.

It’s useless, though. She can’t run away anymore.

Different times. Different circumstances.

They say you should find what you love and keep it close.

The same can be said about what you hate.





8





Teal





I don’t know how I get home.

One moment I’m running out of the club, and the next I’m hiding under my covers.

My breathing is choppy and harsh even though it’s been an hour since I arrived at my room. Even longer since his hands were on me, and yet that’s the only thing my body thinks of.

The way he took control of me, how he brought me to orgasm.

God, I can’t believe I came by just the teasing of my nipples. Shouldn’t there be a natural law against that or something?

I wish all my arousal had disappeared when I saw his face — his stupid symmetrical face — but it didn’t.

Not even close.

Those aristocratic features were nowhere near boring at that moment, or ordinary. All I saw was the one person, the first person who made me feel.

Really feel.

I felt so much it was unbearable. That’s why I still can’t come down from that high even now.

Then he grabbed me, trapping me, and although the signs of an attack nearly swept me over the edge, they didn’t.

They freaking didn’t.

Usually, I’d have an episode if someone as much as tried to cage me. It brings back dark memories, thoughts, and smells, but at that moment? When he took all my will against the wall, I felt a strange sense of awareness. My nipples hurt even more than when he touched them.

They still do. They’re sensitive, throbbing, and sending tingles down to my core.

A shiver snaps through my spine and I curse myself, throwing the covers off and breathing heavily. So what if he touched me and it somehow didn’t suck? So what if he’s more than his gigolo image and has more depth? And he does have depth. The moment his smile disappeared — which is rare as hell — it was almost as if a different person altogether emerged.