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My lips touch her ear this time when I growl, “If I pulled your panties to the side right now, I think I’d find that virgin pussy soaking for me, Songbird.”
Her hands, hands that this entire time have been plastered to the wall, not touching me or pushing me away and pretending to be neutral participants in all of this, rise between us. She plants them on my chest and shoves, eyes burning me with blue fire.
“So everything you told me before is a lie, then,” she snaps, shoving again. “You do want a whore. You just want me for my body.”
I drop my hands from her breasts and capture her chin in my fingers, forcing her gaze to remain on mine as I lean in and tell her, “I want everything. I want your fucking soul.”
She tries to shake her head but can’t.
“Six million dollars for a soul,” she whispers, and she doesn’t sound angry now, but sad.
I let her go, flexing my fingers inside my gloves and shrugging, sending lancing pain through my shoulder, and simply reply, “Small price to pay.”
I would have paid millions more. There’s something in her that speaks to me in a language I’ve half-forgotten. It’s like an itch at the back of my mind that I need to locate so I can scratch it until it bleeds.
I’m about to turn towards the door and take her out of here when I see something glittering. The necklace. I pick it up.
“Turn around,” I say.
She just stares at me, arms crossed over her chest as if to keep those pesky, sensitive nipples of hers in check around me. I hold up the necklace, and she merely lifts her chin and narrows her gaze.
Fine by me. I can put it on like this.
I lean close to her again, and at the last second she decides to finally listen and does turn around. Maybe she thinks this is all a little better if she doesn’t actually have to look at me.
I sweep her hair forward over one shoulder, doing my best to ignore the crackling colour of it. Fucking hell, she’s got a lot of it. Long and thick. It completely hid her back before, but now…
Now I can see everything.
Valentina may have gone overboard on the makeup, but I have to hand it to my cousin. She chose the perfect dress.
The back of the dress isn’t even a back at all. It’s a gaping plunge of silk, exposing Deirdre from shoulder blade to hip. I let the chain of the necklace dangle from my hand, letting the thin end of it drag up the curve of her spine to her neck. I can see the goosebumps as they rise. See the way Deirdre’s arms tighten around her body.
I move in closer behind Deirdre, taking a moment to look at the necklace to figure out how it clasps. It has a short, wide band of diamonds with a central large stone that must go at the front. I sweep it around the front of her neck, then do up the clasp at the back. I pause to admire the effect, and the effect goes straight to my balls.
Because the necklace looks like a diamond collar, fitted tightly around her throat. And the white-gold chain dangles down Deirdre’s back like a glittering leash.
I finger the chain at the back, tugging lightly, and smirk when Deirdre vaults backwards in response, stumbling in her heels until she crashes into my chest. She rights herself quickly, trying to pull away from me as fast as she can.
But I don’t let go of the chain until she’s in my car.
Chapter 17
Deirdre
What is happening?
That’s the question running through my head over and over again as I sit motionless in the front passenger seat of Elio’s car. It’s a different vehicle from last night’s black SUV. It’s still black, but it’s smaller, some kind of Porsche I’m pretty sure.
What is happening? What is happening to me?
The place between my legs still feels achy and damp as I squeeze my thighs together. Elio, the arrogant violent stupid fucking bastard, almost made me come. Just from touching my nipples.
What is happening to me?
I shouldn’t like his touch on me. No, I don’t like it. But something in my body reacts to him in a way I can’t control. And the shame of it makes everything burn hotter. Makes every touch into something toxic, nearly drugging, something I’m terrified I’ll start to crave if I’m not careful.
But how the hell can I even be careful? Everywhere I go, there Elio is. He houses me. Even fucking dresses me now. My fingers rise to the diamond collar at my neck, a beautiful and terrible symbol of what’s become of me.
