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He groans into my ear, kissing his way down my neck before he drags his teeth over the delicate skin. And that’s what sends me over the edge. I cry out as I begin to convulse around him, and he holds me up, riding me harder, faster, his own body on the verge of giving out. Then with a thunderous roar, he drags his cock out of me at the last second, fisting it as he milks out his release, shooting his come across my back.
When it’s over, the sound of our ragged breaths is all that remains, and I turn to look up at him. I’m half hopeful, half terrified of what I might see. Confusion flickers across his face as he glances down at the scene before him, as if he doesn’t understand how it just happened. And then his eyes move to mine, and any warmth I felt from him evaporates.
“You got what you wanted,” he says coldly as he rises to his feet and stares down at me. “You’re a ruined woman now. Nobody will want to marry you. Not even Theron.”
31
Judge
What have I done?
I take one last look at her half twisted on the bed, hair in tangles, face flushed, forehead beaded with sweat. On her back, the evidence of the beast within tearing its way to the surface. Staining her thighs and the once-white sheets is the undeniable truth of what I took. The one thing forbidden to me. The one woman.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Judge?” she starts when I can finally drag my gaze from the mess I’ve made to look at her. To see her confusion.
Without a word, I walk out of her room, still fully naked, and into mine. I go into the bathroom and switch on the shower. While water steams from the shower stall, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Rake my hands through my hair.
What the fuck have I done?
I glance down at myself. See the smear of red on my dick, my thighs, my stomach. Her virgin blood. I took it. It wasn’t mine to take, but I took it all the same.
And I don’t know what I’m thinking as I step into the shower. It’s not as though washing it off will erase it from having happened. It doesn’t matter how hot the water is. How it scalds.
The beast rattles inside me as my mind replays what just happened. As I remember how wet she was when I dipped my cock inside her. How tight when I took her, breaking her seal with a single punishing thrust. She deserved to be punished. That I won’t deny. But fuck, I lost control tonight. Coming home to see them like that. See my brother in my house and them sitting so fucking close together on the loveseat. Flirting. Fucking flirting right under my nose. When he casually twirled her hair at dinner, it took all I had not to leap across the table, tackle him to the ground and beat the shit out of him.
I have to give it to my mother. She’s clever. Inviting Hildebrand. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing with him present.
Distaste curls my lip. My mother is a manipulative bitch. The way she talked to Mercedes with that fake sweetness. She hates her—hates the entire family but her specifically, if only because she was born into her status. Born a De La Rosa. She hated Mercedes’s mother too, before she passed. Did Mercedes see that, or is she fooled? She’s clever, too, Mercedes. She’ll see through her. For her sake, I hope she does.
Margot Montgomery is a conniving, greedy, jealous woman. She’s a puppet master in her own right. Now that Grandfather is dead and Theron is back, she’s gained some backbone. She wants back into the house. She wants to rule.
Those things, however, will not be allowed.
I know her game. She has been patient. They both have. They knew the old man wouldn’t live forever. And my fist is not so much made of iron as his was. At least it hasn’t been. But that changes now. This instant.
She wants me to reinstate Theron in his rightful place within the family. Within The Society. Except that he has no rightful place. There is not a drop of Montgomery blood in him. But a marriage with a De La Rosa would take care of that. It would put him so fucking high on the ladder it would be impossible to topple him. I wonder if she realizes once he gets what he wants, he’ll drop her. Because like his mother, my brother is just as vicious, as conniving as she is.
Rage burns inside me. I switch off the shower and step out to dry off. I pull on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and my riding boots. I comb my hair back with my fingers as I stalk out of my bedroom, but I’m unable to simply pass hers without a pause. Without listening for any sound. What I hear is the shower. She’s washing me off her. As if that will do anything. Prove anything. Change anything.
I have taken her virginity. A part of her will always belong to me. Always.
I swallow hard and force myself to walk on.
In taking her, I have betrayed my best friend. The man who trusted me with his sister. Will he demand I marry her? I’ve ruined her for any other man of rank. She will fail any virginity test. I have ruined her for marriage within The Society. Period.
My steps pound as I hurry down the stairs, only glimpsing Miriam picking up our discarded glasses in the living room as I pass through the kitchen and out the back door. The full moon’s light is ghostly but bright, a spotlight on my guilt.
I don’t bother saddling Kentucky Lightning. I’ve told Paolo Theron is not to ride him. I’ve ordered another horse for my brother. The thought should give me pleasure. A mare half the size of my beast. It’s his welcome home present. Because one thing I do know is that old adage to keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And Theron is my enemy.
After bridling Kentucky Lightning, I mount and ride to the small cottage. The punishment room is a black hole in my periphery when I pass it. Always there. Always holding on to memories I wish had never been made.
The ripped skin of my mother’s back comes to mind. Grandfather was brutal in his punishment. If she’d been his by blood, would he have done it? I don’t want to consider the answer to that. Is that why she hates me? Because I sided with him? I was a child. Or is it that she only has the capacity to love one of us, and Theron wins? Because he, like she, was hated by that man. And I was loved.
I wonder if either of them realizes what that love cost me. What it made me. A man with a temper to match his. But perhaps that is simply my nature. Like it was his.
Cigarette smoke wafts through the air as I dismount while Kentucky Lightning slows his pace. My beast and I know one another well. When I ride, we move as one.
