Her Villain: A Dark Bully Romance (Aqua Vitae Duet Book 1)

by Ellie Meadows

  For the first time, for as long as I could remember since Rosaline, I wanted every second I could get with Juliette.

  I still wouldn’t take her to my bedroom, but I wouldn’t leave her either like she was something I’d used up until I was satisfied before leaving her behind.

  “Just let me out here. We can agree the date’s already been a bust.”

  I ignored her, turning onto the last road and then seconds later taking the car down into the shadows of the basement garage.

  When we were parked, she got out quickly, unlike last time. I got out too, trying not to laugh again as she tried to stomp up the ramp in the heels and tiny dress. “Juliette, come back. I’ll take you home if that’s what you really want.”

  She walked another few feet, but then stopped and yelled something intelligible at the ceiling before turning back and acting like she was doing the walk of shame before there was anything to be ashamed about.

  “Fine, take me back.” She said when she reached the car, hand going to the door to open it and get back inside.

  I held my own hand up, palm facing her, ready to make one last bid at keeping what I wanted, where I wanted it.

  “Wait, driving is hardly a date. If we truly want to end this thing, then we should finish the date.” I stared at her, waiting for her to say something. “And, look, I know exactly what outfit Balthasar gave you. And let’s be clear, I don’t fantasize about young schoolgirls. I prefer women. Grown-ass women.” I walked around the car to join her. Staring down at her intently, watching as her dark eyes narrowed. I almost had her. “Women who know what they want. Who know what they are. And who know what to do with their bodies. And I promise that when I do drive a woman truly crazy, it’s in the best way possible.”

  “Pancakes,” she breathed out. “You make them. I eat them. And then I’m gone. Understood?”

  “Understood,” I agreed, hands itching to reach out and take her right here in the garage and have my goddamn way with her. She was making me work for it, and I wasn’t sure if I hated it...or liked it too fucking much.

  24.

  Juliette

  “Those were terrible.” I pushed the empty plate away and then licked the maple syrup from my fingertips. I’d used the last few pieces of pancake to swipe across the china and suck up the last bit of scrumptious dark amber liquid.

  “Is that why you finished every single bite?” Romero leaned over the kitchen island, staring down at me. He’d not finished even half of his portion and I looked like a complete pig. And not just that, the stupid vintage dress felt so tight I thought I might bust the zipper.

  “I didn’t want to be rude.” I stood up and stretched, the dress riding up my legs until the hem felt like it was barely covering my butt. “So, is that it? Are we done now?” I quickly lowered my arms, frowning when the dress didn’t magically fall back into place across my thighs.

  “What, no dessert?” He watched me carefully, forking a small bite of pancake and popping it into his mouth. God, it wasn’t even sexual. He wasn’t even trying to be smoking hot, yet he just fucking was. It wasn’t fair.

  Resist the beautiful man, Juliette. You made it through the police academy, fought through the boy’s club to become a detective, and now you are a goddamn federal agent. You’re made of stronger stuff than this.

  “Who has dessert after breakfast? We literally just ate an entire pile of carbs, butter, and sugar.”

  “You literally just ate a pile of carbs, butter, and sugar.” Romero smirked, also standing up and setting down his fork.

  “Please don’t tell me that you’re one of those guys who eats so little that the girl is always feeling like a giant overeating whale.”

  “No,” he shrugged, oozing sex appeal, “but I’m hungry for other things right now.”

  “Hungry for dessert?” I asked stupidly, trying to pull down the skirt of the dress as I thought through the best, most efficient exit plan from the house. Get my cell from my purse, request a car to this address, wait outside. Easy. Simple.

  I was looking down, lost in thought, and that’s why I didn’t see or feel Romero Montego walk around the island and erase the space between our bodies. My gazed flashed up from the dress to his face.

  “In a manner of speaking.” He answered, though for a second, I forgot my question. His eyes were brighter than they’d ever been, lit from within and looking like neon green lava. Hot enough to burn.

  “You’re being irritatingly vague again.”

  Get my purse. Get my cell. Request a car. Wait outside.

  So simple.

  “Then let me be absolutely clear, Juliette.” Romero spoke lowly, breath syrupy sweet.

  Get my purse. Get my cell. Request a car. Wait outside.

  So simple.

  “No, it’s actually okay. Vague, is fine.” I backed away from him, heart in my throat. I didn’t want to know what Romero was hungry for. I didn’t want him to tell me, because if he did...

  “Stop moving.” His hands flashed out, gripping my waist and pulling me back close. I gave a small gasp despite myself, and his green eyes seemed to glint black. The devil inside of him, coming out. I knew it was there, God, I’d known from the second we’d danced, but I couldn’t get away from him. I’d been lying to myself, pretending that I didn’t want him. When, really, every particle of my body wanted Romero.

  “Let me go,” I said weakly, and even I recognized it was an empty request, a pathetic attempt at another moment’s denial. Just to make myself feel better.

  “If you really want me to let go, Juliette, say it again.” His eyes drilled through me; his beautiful lips parted as he waited.

  I didn’t say the words again.

  Any thoughts of getting my purse, and then my cell, and then calling a car and waiting outside... gone. Obliterated.

  “Now, listen carefully so there’s zero room for misunderstanding,” he began after a long enough pause to be sure I wasn’t going to change my mind. “I’m hungry for one thing only. You. I’m hungry for every part of you. I want to bite and taste every inch of your body. I want to eat you up until your legs shake and your heart races, and it’s me that’s licking the last remnants of your sweetness from my fingertips. Is that clear enough for you?”

  Body trembling and an aching throb building in my most sensitive parts, I could only give him one word back. “Crystal.”

  “Are you still ready to be spontaneous then?” Romero leaned down, kissing my neck, his words spilling out onto my skin and making goosebumps rise.

  “But what does that mean?” I tried to keep my senses, tried not to melt against him and be a complete fool.

  “Stop overthinking, Juliette. You’re free here. There’s no history, no pain. Let yourself go.” He urged me with his words, with his hands, with his mouth. Until all I could hear was the sound of my own heart beating, all I could feel was the way his lips caressed my skin, all I could smell was maple syrup and the faded scent of cigarettes on his breath.

  “I want to.” The truth felt so good. I was tired of working so hard. Clawing my way to detective, fighting a man’s world every step of the way. I was tired of eating, breathing, and dreaming my mother’s murder like it was the only thing that kept me stitched together. I was tired of Tybalt and all the other agents who treated me like my value revolved around my ability to ‘clean up nice’ and ‘play stand-in secretary’.

  “I really want to let go.” My voice cracked, and I couldn’t stop my mouth from trembling. No wonder men thought I was weak. No wonder they objectified me and told me I didn’t belong, putting me on ridiculous jobs like the Pinski case with that asshole Tybalt. I was a better agent than he was, by miles, but he was still considered my superior. I hated it. Hated it all.

  “Tell me yes, Juliette,” Romero kissed up my neck, across my jaw, his lips finding my lips and brushing against them ever so gently, sending shivers down my spine.

  I was done hesitating. Done being careful. Done worrying what my father and d
ead mother would think about me being with the son of Roman Montego.

  “Yes,” I said the one word like it decided my fate. Like my entire future had been balanced on a pin’s edge, and this single utterance set my path forever.

  “That’s all I needed to hear.” Romero swooped me up, cradling me in his arms, and strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor.

  He set me down outside the room with the storm gray door. The locked door.

  “What is this?”

  “My Dark Room.”

  “You’re into photography?” Why would he bring me here... why would it be locked? Though if he was worried about overexposure maybe it made sense. Balthasar seemed the type to go dusting the whole house willy-nilly to keep things in perfect order.

  Romero raised an eyebrow. “It’s not that kind of dark room, Juliette.”

  My heart jumped as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black key. I took a step back; even though I’d said ‘yes’, even though I wanted this, I was still scared. “What, no overkill technology to get inside? I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel over a room that’s locked from the outside. I don’t know you that well, Romero.”

  He pressed a finger to my lips. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, but for once, just be quiet.”

  I clamped my lips shut; his hand fell away.

  Romero slipped the key into the lock and pushed the door open.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting.

  Another, more private, guest suite maybe...

  But the world revealed by the opening of the door was a large monochrome dungeon, shadows clinging to ever surface.

  Black ceiling.

  Walls such a dark gray that you couldn’t tell where they ended, and the ebony floors began.

  A king-sized bed anchored the room. A modern four poster with horizontal rails at the top that supported lush velvet curtains. Silky obsidian sheets. Bolts in the headboard posts sported short chains that terminated in shiny handcuffs and silk ties hung loosely from the footboard. The only color in the room was a giant red X attached to a far wall. Four leather cuffs decorated each end of the X and a leather choker hung from a metal cross bar near the center. Shelving ran the length of another wall near it, every toy and whip you could possibly imagine.

  And then there was the black massage table with the face-down head rest... only it looked like it was made for kneeling and there were straps to tie a person down.

  “What...” My mind whirled and my body tingled. I’d been with men. I’d had sex. Missionary. Doggy style. Side by side and a little 69. But this... “Romero, I—”

  “Just. Be. Quiet.” Romero warned, words warm and promising.

  I could taste my pulse now, it throbbed in my mouth as I tried to wrap my head around what ‘spontaneous’ meant to Romero Montego.

  He held his hand out to me and I took it, our fingers threading together as he led me into the room and shut the door behind us.

  25.

  Romero

  The Dark Room

  This was my domain.

  And it kept me satisfied, between the times when I could use serving justice as a reason to kill.

  Juliette was still reluctant. She still needed convincing, and words weren’t doing the job.

  I pulled her to me once the door was shut, slipping the key into my pocket and wrapping my arms around her. I pressed against her firmly, her curves beneath the tight dress molding against my body.

  “I want you out of this dress,” I whispered gently, hands running up and down her back before gripping her ass cheeks and giving them a squeeze. The deliciously short dress rode up, and my fingers brushed against the backs of her thighs. So high up, the fucking promise land so close.

  “It’s been a while. And this...” she looked around the room, biting her lower lip and not knowing what to say. “It’s intense.”

  “It doesn’t have to be if you’re not ready. We can take it slow.” I didn’t want to take it slow. I wanted to dive in deep with Juliette, pull her into my world and show her the absolute fucking delight a little soft torture could bring a woman.

  “Slow?” she questioned, teetering on a decision. To trust me, to let go like she said she wanted to.

  “Let go, Juliette,” I urged once again. “Let me show you how good it can be. And if you need me to slow down, you say ‘softer’. It’s that easy.”

  “And if I don’t want you to slow down?” Her lips parted, teeth no longer worrying her gorgeous mouth, she stared up at me.

  She made me feel things I hadn’t in a long time. Fuck, things I’d never felt before.

  “You say ‘harder’, Juliette. If you’re enjoying yourself, and you want more, you say ‘harder’.” I breathed out the words.

  She reached behind her body, pushing my hands away. And then she turned around slowly, giving me her back. “You’ll have to unzip me.”

  I gripped the pull, drawing the zipper down inch by inch, revealing the back of the nude bra. I paused for a moment at the halfway point, the position it had been in when I’d walked into her apartment.

  “Something wrong?” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “I’m enjoying the view.” I continued unzipping, my gaze devouring every fresh inch of gorgeous skin. The closure ended just below the waistline of her nude panties. I slipped my thumbs under the material near her neck, pushing the arms and bodice of the dress down. She tried to help, half turning to try and see me. “Stop moving,” I ordered. And she listened, standing perfectly still as I worked the dress off her body until it spilled to the floor, pooling around the blush heels.

  Juliette tried to cover herself, arms automatically crossing over her chest. I moved around to face her, gripping her forearms and pulling them away from her body.

  “Don’t ever cover yourself. You’re goddamn breathtaking.” I wrapped hands over her breasts, kneading gently and feeling her nipples begin to harden before tracing fingers across the bra material, under her arms, across her back, until my hands found the row of fasteners. My dick throbbed as I undid the closures. The bra straps fell down her shoulders, and again she reached up to cover herself, to keep the bra in place. “No,” I growled, hands moving to her front again, hungry fingers pushing past her hands and pulling down the bra to reveal her upper body.

  Her chin tipped upward, her mouth setting in a hard line. Here was my normal Juliette. The stubbornly sexy woman that could even make soaking wet sensible suits look good.

  I pinched her chin between my thumb and index, peering down at her. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

  She didn’t say anything, just stared up at me with that fierce expression. Like she wasn’t just defying me, she was defying the part of herself that wanted to tell me ‘softer’ and run away.

  Leaning down, I drank her up. My mouth pressed firmly against hers and there was no defiance here, only compliance. Only giving herself over to me. Her lips searched for mine, tongue darting out as she made soft kitten sounds. Desire, spilling outward even if she didn’t want it to. Because the dam was breaking, releasing all her anxiety, so that pleasure could take its place.

  I pushed hands into her hair roughly, ruining the French twist and causing the comb she’d used to secure the style to fall out and clatter to the floor.

  A tiny piece of my brain, the last remaining morsel of conscience I kept buried away so I didn’t become a total monster, poked at me as I hooked fingers into the waistline of her panties.

  To her, you’re the enemy. You’re The Rose Killer.

  She thinks you murdered her mother.

  And you’re about to fuck her.

  It was true, and I was a special kind of bastard, but I wanted Juliette, more than I’d ever wanted anyone or anything.

  Squashing my inner voice, I lowered myself to the ground as I simultaneously drew her panties down her legs. By the time they fell to the floor to join the bra and dress, I was on my knees in front of her. The smell of soap
and lotion greeted me as I stared at the small landing strip of dark brown hair.

  I ran a hand over her inner thigh until I hit her intimate place, brushing against her folds lightly and making her shiver.

  “Romero?” Her soft voice called my attention back up, though all I wanted to do was sink my face into her for a taste.

  “Yes?” I looked up at her, those brown soulful eyes seeing right through me and making me wonder what kind of devil I really was, to insist on having her, to seducing her even though I knew she’d hate me if she ever found out my truth.

  “I can trust you, can’t I?” She wrapped her fingers around my shoulders. “You’re not your father. You’re not his sins. I know that now. But the person that you are, can I trust him?”

  I reached up and gripped her waist, tugging her down. She lowered herself to kneel in front of me.

  “I’m not without sins, Juliette. I’m not an angel. But I would never hurt you. If you only knew everything, you’d believe that.” I brushed hair out of her face, where the strands had fallen wildly around her, let loose from the updo and curling in all directions.

  “What don’t I know, Romero?” She rocked back to sit on her legs instead of kneeling and dropped her hands to cradle them against her thighs. Uncertainty and fear were flooding into her features, building back that protective dam.

  “I’ll tell you everything. Anything you ask, I’ll answer.” I cupped her face, feeling like a raw nerve. This wasn’t what the Dark Room was about. It wasn’t for emotional intimacy, this kind of closeness. It was for unbridled desire, wildest needs, pure unedited rapture.

  And here I was, wanting to pour my fucking soul out to Juliette.

  Things had been so easy, not so long ago.

  And then I’d danced with her at the gala. I could admit to myself that my sexual encounters after kissing this woman had felt different, even wrong. How had I let Juliette affect me so deeply, so quickly?