The Black Wolf (In the Company of Killers, #5)(76)

He was going to kill me…after everything I’d done for him, my brother was going to kill me. And the girl he was falling in love with, the girl I tried to kill, had more mercy for me than he did.

I’m only alive today because of her. And I’m a different person today because of her.

I will not live in my brother’s shadow anymore.

“You know,” I say, slipping a hand between Francesca’s thighs and squeezing the flesh, “I have to admit, your offer is tempting.”

She moves in front of me and straddles my lap, and without even thinking about it I put a nipple in my mouth, squeezing her tit firmly in one hand; the other hand still between her legs. I push two fingers inside of her.

“What about Emilio?” I ask, and then pull her nipple with my teeth.

Her hands are in the back of my hair; she’s slowly starting to ride my fingers.

“Emilio will accept my decision,” she says, her eyes still closed, her bottom lip wedged between her teeth.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” I say, and then I kiss her throat. “I’m talking about now—I thought you loved him?”

She drags the tip of her tongue down one side of my neck, and then bites me; the motion of her hips like a small wave on my lap.

“I do love him,” she says, gasping, “but that does not mean I have to save myself for him; he was not saving himself for me, was he?” She’s so bitter—this, to her, is another way she thinks she’s getting back at Emilio.

She opens her eyes and gazes into mine.

Then she kisses me, deep; her hands grip my hair, pulling me toward her. I hook my fingers inside of her and she moans, pushing her hips against them.

“And what about that girl of yours?” she says breathily onto my mouth. “I take it that you understand the line between love and loyalty?”

My mouth covers hers, our tongues tangled.

“I don’t love her,” I say, breaking the kiss briefly. “I’m just fond of her. I f*ck who I want.” I kiss her again, ravenously, forcing Izabel’s face out of my mind, and quietly damning this bitch for putting it there.

With Francesca’s legs wrapped around me, her ass in my hands, I rise into a stand with her straddling my waist, and carry her over to the large wooden desk between two tall windows letting in an abundance of daylight. And I throw her down on it, pushing the contents of it out of the way, scattering items. I spread her legs before me with my hands. But when I see her face, gazing up at me with those dark bottomless eyes, I flip her over onto her stomach instead, pulling her body down so her feet touch the floor. I want to hurt her; I want to take my frustrations out on her—and I’m f*cking going to.

She cries out when I enter her roughly; her hands grasping for the edge of the desk but it’s too far out of her reach so she presses her fingertips against the flat wood for grip. Wrapping the back of her long hair around my hand twice, I pull her neck back as far as it’ll go, and I f*ck her from behind with violent abandon.

“That’s it, Niklas,” I hear her breathy voice somewhere amid the rage that my mind has become. “That’s it…take it out on me. All of your anger, your hatred—this is how I like it, violent and cruel.”

I thrust harder—I didn’t know it was possible—and she calls out my name, over and over; her voice choked by pleasure and pain and the breath slowly being cut off the farther back I pull her head toward me.

“Fuck me like you want to kill me, Niklas.”

I grip the back of her head and force the side of her face down against the desk; pressing my full weight on top of her, my back against hers. I can’t see straight; all I see is red.

And Victor’s face.

And Claire’s face.

A tear tracks down my cheek. I grit my goddamned teeth and thrust harder. Francesca cries out, and I don’t stop until I come. And when I’m done, I pull out and lay on top of her; her back rising and falling with heavy breaths; she pushes her ass toward me, wanting more.

But I have better plans.

“You were right,” I whisper against her ear, lying on top of her, my chest sweating against her back. “Revenge on my brother is the only way I’m going to able to get past what he did.”

“Yesss, Niklas,” she whispers silkily, pushing her ass toward me harder, as if my talk of revenge and punishment and death gets her off. “You should kill him.”

I kiss the back of her neck, drag my tongue across her sweating flesh, bite the skin.

“I’m going to destroy him,” I say, and bite the other side of her neck. “Starting with where it’ll hurt him the most. But I’ll never kill him because he’s my brother and I love him.”

“So loyal,” Francesca says as if mocking me. “What will you do then?” she asks. “Where will it hurt him the most?”

I think of Izabel and say with honesty, “His Order,” before pushing a letter opener into the back of Francesca’s neck. Her body stiffens beneath mine; she chokes and I shove the metal in deeper until I hear a pop. Blood pours from the corner of her mouth into a small pool on the desk; a stream of crimson runs down the back and sides of her neck, soaking her dark hair. A few more laboring breaths and the life leaves her eyes.

I get dressed and leave her like that, lying naked across the desk on her stomach with a letter opener jutting from the back of her neck. And on my way out, I flip the lock closed before shutting the door, hoping like hell that’ll buy me at least a few minutes to get out of this place before anyone realizes what I’ve done.