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“You’re not wearing underwear.” His eyes flashed. “You put on the dress with nothing underneath, and youdidn’ttell me?”
“Pardon me, but I was wearing leggings,” I pointed out, not in the mood to provide a fashion lesson he wouldn’t give two shits about. “I wasn’t expecting to change into a dress today.”
Roman didn’t say another word. Instead, he pushed me back onto the couch I hadn’t noticed the other night and dropped to his knees.
“Mine,” he growled as he shoved his head under my skirt. “All fucking mine.”
He licked my clit with one slow swipe and then stood, almost taking my dress with him. Then, he flipped me over so that I was on my knees, holding the back of the couch to keep from falling.
The unmistakable sound of his pants unzipping sent a shiver of excitement rippling down my spine, and then Roman was there, pushing his cock inside my body. “This has to be fast,” he groaned as he filled me completely.
“Then hurry,” I murmured over my shoulder as I tried not to moan. His ego wasn’t what I was itching to stroke, and I wanted him to work for every sound, every whimper, every—oh, my God!
Roman quickened his pace, fucking harder and faster than he had before. When I didn’t think I could take anything else, he pulled my hair back and promised more.
“Every night. All night. Mine.”
When his body stiffened behind me, I almost cried at the loss of an orgasm. But he fisted my hair tighter and slapped my ass, then I exploded in a cloud of light and sound. Once I could breathe again, I collapsed against the couch, waiting to catch my breath to make a move.
When the door opened, Roman pressed me to his side and smoothed my dress down. “Go away, Ash.”
“It’s not Ash, Roman.” An older woman sauntered into the room, wearing a large smile, and even larger diamonds around her neck. “And that’s no way to greet your mother.”
“Mother,” Roman intoned without moving. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to officially meet our pledge.” She smiled at me, and heat rose to my face at the thought of her knowing exactly what we’d been doing before she came in. “My name is Margaret Hawthorne, Rylie, dear. Welcome to the beginning of your legacy. I have a good feeling about you.” Her smile widened and she moved a step closer. I smelled like sex and death but there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it. “You’re going to fit in perfectly.” She held out her hand, and dangling from her fingertips was a gold chain, with a black onyx stone in the center. When I hesitated to reach out, she leaned forward and placed it on my palm.
A shining black scorpion stared up at me.
“I’ll leave you two to your fun.” She grinned again and cocked an eyebrow at Roman. “Remember, Roman, initiation takes place at midnight.”
Neither of us spoke until she was gone, and even after, I couldn’t open my mouth.
“You’re mine, Rylie.” Roman hauled me into his arms, and my feet dangled over the side of the couch. “You may not want it, or be ready for it, but I don’t think there’s any other choice. I can’t let you go.”
“I mean, I passed your test, right? I’m part of the Scorpio Society, so you can keep me, I guess. Only for the night.” I couldn’t help teasing him with a wicked smile before I closed my eyes and savored the steady rhythm of his heart beating against my head.
“No.” He chuckled lightly. “You passed your test. You still have to survive initiation.”
Rylie
There was something inherently decadent about draping my body in Chanel, about the Tiffany’s earrings and bracelet which matched the scorpion pendant Margaret helped me put on. If this was what it was to be wealthy, to never want, to always have, I would have to be careful not to become addicted. I’d never seen so much bling. Sure as fuck never wore it. This was swag on an epic scale. I liked swag.
Margaret scanned me up and down, smiling like I’d passed some sort of test I hadn’t known I was taking. “Perfect.” She adjusted one final detail, then waved her hand. “Would you like something to eat? There’s a Chick-fil-a between here and the initiation. We can hit the drive-thru.”
Wouldn’t that turn a few heads? Dressed like we were ready for an audience with the queen and pulling up to order waffle fries and nuggets? The townies woulddie.
My stomach was too nervous for food. I was a lot of big talk, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself by failing. Plus, there was the death aspect. It was likely wrong to be so thrilled at the idea, but I couldn’t help it. If I’d been wearing panties—Margaret made me take them off because the lines showed—they would’ve been damp.
I turned to answer, and she pulled her phone from the top of her dress. “I have to take this.”
At the thought of my panties—or more the lack there of—I pictured Roman.You put on the dress with nothing underneath, and youdidn’ttell me?He’d been almost indignant, and it was so fucking hot. He was amazing at first glance, but the way he wanted me, the smoldering looks, the voice, it was a fantasy.Hewas a fantasy.
This was my moment, though. I couldn’t be the girl who fell for all the trappings—the money, the jewelry, this dress. This wasn’t my style. But if ecstasy had a style, this dress was it—the smooth black sheath that knew my body almost as intimately as Roman. The naughtiness of thinking of him this way while his mother stood a foot away from me, assessing and judging, was so depraved, a little thrill shivered through me.
Margaret ended the call and shoved it down the front of her dress. She was a conundrum of wealth and common. She wore diamonds and pearls and Prada to pick up the daily Filet o’ Fish from McDonalds. She had a limousine drop her off at the local Walmart.
When she looked up at me, she beamed. “Are you ready to change your life?”
