The Bad Guy

by Celia Aaron

  “Fucking hell, Stella.” I could barely get the words out through my gritted teeth.

  She teased me, rubbing my head against her clit as her hips rocked against me. I wasn’t waiting any more. I pulled her forward, positioning my head at her opening. When she slid down on my shaft, I groaned from the demanding need to thrust up into her. My fingertips dug into her soft hips. She gave me a sultry gaze, eyes green and partly hidden beneath her lashes. When she raised up and settled down again, pushing me as deeply as I could go, it took every ounce of willpower I had not to flip her over and fuck her hard and fast.

  She leaned down over me, brushing her perfect tits against my chest. She set a slow rhythm, as if trying to get used to my length inside her. It wasn’t enough. I thrust up into her, meeting her strokes with pure animal lust to take everything she had. She was panting, each breath hot between her parted lips. I spread one palm over her ass and fisted her hair with the other.

  I crushed our mouths together as our bodies melded into one. She moaned and sped her pace, gliding back and forth on my shaft and rubbing her clit against me. I wanted it in my mouth, but my cock wouldn’t relinquish her tight heat for anything. I was rough, claiming her mouth and pulling her hair. She dug her nails into my chest as she rode me, all reservations gone, surrendered to our mutual pleasure.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I flipped her onto her back and spread her legs wide beneath me. I sat back and fed each inch into her flushed pussy. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, making my balls pull up even tighter against me.

  “Fucking beautiful, Stella.”

  “Sin,” she breathed.

  She’d never called me that. I would put that one rasping word on replay in my mind every time I stroked off to thoughts of her tight body.

  I rammed myself home, all gentleness gone. I needed her, all of her. She gasped as I lay on top of her and pistoned into her. She grabbed tight onto my shoulders as I fastened my mouth to her neck, the slight salt of her sweat delicious on my tongue. She dug her heels into my back as I ground my cock into her softest skin.

  Her hips were pinned, but she still managed to push against me, adding even more roughness to our frantic fucking.

  “You like that, Stella? My cock deep inside you?”

  “God, yes,” she cried.

  “Not god, Stella.” I gave her some longer, harder strokes, and my cock demanded I explode inside her.

  “Sin.” She arched her back, rubbing her tits against me.

  “Better.” I bent my head down and pulled a stiff nipple into my mouth, sucking it as I pounded into her.

  She scored her hands through my hair. “I’m so close.”

  I grazed her nipple with my teeth before I raised my head up to meet her lusty gaze. “Yeah?”

  I smoothed my hand down her stomach and leaned back, watching her tits bounce beautifully with each impact. I pulled her hips further up to me so I could stay just as deep. Because I was a selfish asshole.

  I put one hand on her hip to keep her pinned beneath me then licked my other thumb and pressed the pad against her clit.

  She bucked when I touched her sensitive nub.

  “Look at me, Stella. I want you to tell me when you come, and I want you to tell me who made you come.”

  She nodded and gasped when I increased the pressure on her clit, still fucking her hard. My cock demanded release. I wouldn’t give in, not until she was clamping around me.

  Her gaze locked on mine as I swirled my thumb around her clit in small circles. Her pussy pulsed, and I knew she was near the edge. I pushed her over, rubbing her clit faster until her wet walls tensed and squeezed.

  “Sin!” She came with crushing pressure on my cock.

  Her pussy convulsed as she gripped the rug and repeated that one word. My cock couldn’t take any more, not when I had this beautiful sight before me and her cunt milking me. I gave a final hard thrust and groaned as I shot into her, deep and hard. I filled her, each hot kick of my cock a blissful release until I was spent.

  I let myself fall on top of her, feeling her last shudders as I remained buried deep inside.

  19 Stella

  My body was sated. My soul, bereft. What had I done? This man who had just given me the most erotic moment of my life was hell-bent on my destruction.

  I turned my head toward the fire as he dropped light kisses along my neck. A traitor was here in this room, and she lived inside my breast. I thought I was playing the game, making Vinemont care about me enough to keep me safe. But an ache in my heart, one that told me I’d taken these stolen moments in too deeply, was an accusatory slap in my face.

  I tried to lure him to me, to make him care. I’d done the opposite, and my heart was the one caught in the trap. Even now, I wanted to taste his lips again, to make him hard and wanting under my touch. I let out a deep breath.

  “Stop.” He dropped kisses along my jaw.

  “Stop what?”

  “Thinking.” He took my mouth again, gentle now, reverent.

  I wanted him so much it twisted my heart. I wanted him to want me, to treasure me. But he’d always been upfront. Hell, he’d even told me he would gladly torture me all over again. He swept his tongue into my mouth, trying to erase all thought from my mind and nearly accomplishing it. His scent was all over me, marking me as his. I loved it and hated it at once.

  I broke the kiss before I fell back under his spell. “I can’t.”

  “My dick is still inside you, Stella, and now you can’t?” He moved his hips for emphasis, sending a thrill back to my clit.

  I pushed on his chest and he withdrew, pulling from me. I wanted him back immediately. He took in my body, the bruises coloring my nipples where he’d bitten me, the marks on my neck, his fingertips imprinted on my hips. He still looked hungry. I wanted to feed him.

  I couldn’t.

  I pulled the fluffy rug up to my chest. He met my eyes.

  “This was a mistake,” I said.

  “I know.” He searched around, found his boxers, and pulled them on.

  His words stung me more than they should have. The heat from the fire was oppressive now. He grabbed a remote and turned it down to a low flame. He ran a hand through his hair in what I now recognized as the classic “Vinemont man in distress” move.

  “This can’t happen again,” he said. “None of it. We just have to make it through the year. That’s all.” He put a resolve into his words that I knew he didn’t feel. “This was just…circumstances.” He waved a hand at the windows where sunlight now poured through.

  More pain bloomed in my chest. I ignored it because he was right. I was still his Acquisition, his plaything. He was still my captor. I dropped the rug and searched around for my clothes. He stared hard at my bare skin before looking away, his jaw tight.

  The fire had mostly dried my clothes except for my jeans. I pulled them on anyway. He dressed, too, his movements quick and angry.

  He led me through the front door.

  Shadow stood on the front porch, his head almost brushing the rafters. He nickered as we emerged and nuzzled Vinemont’s hand. He was so gentle with the animal, obvious affection in his touches. Shadow responded, resting his head on Vinemont’s shoulder. They were a gorgeous set, dark and handsome.

  Vinemont led him down the steps and into the wet grass. I followed, and Vinemont helped me up before seating himself behind me.

  “Come on, Shadow, let’s go home.”

  We rode in silence. A cold breeze had kicked up in the wake of the storm. Winter wouldn’t be far behind. I lay back into Vinemont for warmth, or so I told myself. He wrapped his arms around me, keeping at least some of the chill wind at bay. Shadow maintained an easy pace, none of us seeming to be in a hurry to return.

  My thoughts couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the man at my back, his actions and words. I still wanted to believe something was different between us. That our stolen moments in the library and at the cottage meant something more than just sex
.

  I wondered what was going through his mind. Was he worrying just like I was? He was unreadable at best. I relaxed back into him more, snuggling against his hard chest. He pulled me in closer, barely holding the reins as Shadow leisurely walked home.

  As we approached the stables, I remembered my own horse that had bolted.

  “Gloria?”

  “I’m sure she’s munching on some hay inside. She galloped past us in the thick of the downpour.”

  The storm, my accident – Vinemont had seen me through all of it. “Thanks, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “For…well, for saving me.”

  He leaned away. “I didn’t. I haven’t.”

  He pulled his arms from around me, letting the outside chill seep into my bones for the short distance before we trotted into the stables.

  We skirted a sleek black car, still wet and slightly dinged. Gloria waited there, just as he’d said, grazing on a hay bale.

  Vinemont dropped to the ground and then helped me down. He dug in his pocket and handed me his car key. “Take it back to the house. I need to get Gloria and Shadow settled. You need to warm up.”

  “I can stay and—”

  “No. Just go.” It was a dismissal. He turned his back and started unburdening Shadow.

  Asshole. I opened the fancy car’s door and slid into the driver’s seat. I glanced down at the transmission. It was a stick. I hadn’t driven a stick in years and wasn’t much good at it to begin with. I smirked at Vinemont’s broad back. This would hurt him more than it hurt me. I pushed the button on the ignition and the engine purred to life.

  I depressed the clutch and easily put the car into reverse. I hit the gas and let off the clutch. It lurched forward and sputtered.

  Not reverse.

  Vinemont glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. I moved the gear shift into what was, most likely, reverse and tried it again. This time I slid backward out of the stables so quickly I had to slam on the brakes once I reached the smooth drive.

  Vinemont had completely turned now, watching me with his arms crossed over his chest. I couldn’t tell if he wore a look of chagrin or regret. Either way, I was going to make the next gear shift hurt. I ground it into first gear, the transmission screaming an angry noise, and hit the gas. I was off like a shot, leaving Vinemont and the stables behind me.

  I moved it into second gear, imagining the look on Vinemont’s face as I ground that one even harder, the transmission making a vicious metal on metal sound. I smiled and whipped the rest of the way to the house. I parked out front, satisfied with myself.

  Renee was sitting in the library and followed me up the stairs when I dashed in. I stripped in my room as she entered.

  “Where have you been? What’s happened?” Her curious gaze settled on my neck. “Are those love bites?”

  “I, uh, I’m freezing. I need a bath and then I’ll tell you about it.”

  She kicked into maid mode and ran me a hot bath while I tossed off my remaining clothes. As I soaked, letting the warmth soothe my aching body—some of the soreness from the riding accident, some of it from Vinemont’s attentions—I told her about my day. I left out most of the sexy details, but she got the picture well enough.

  The hand wringing began almost instantly. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the tub.

  “Is it really as bad as all that, Renee?”

  “Yes, and worse.”

  “Why?”

  “If his mother finds out—”

  My eyes shot open and I whipped my head around to her. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Vinemont’s mother is alive? You told me she was dead!”

  Epic hand wringing ensued. “I never said she was dead. You just drew your own conclusions.”

  Realization dawned. “The third floor?”

  She nodded, a troubled look overcoming her features.

  “Why does it matter? Where is she? Can she do anything about this, about the Acquisition?” My mind raced from thought to thought. Why was Vinemont’s mother such a secret?

  “It matters, and no, she can’t help you. She wouldn’t even if she could. She was Sovereign for ten years, you see.”

  I turned in the water so quickly it sloshed against the sides of the tub and splashed to the floor. “No, I don’t see. You keep all these secrets from me. How could I possibly have any idea?”

  “It’s just that Rebecca doesn’t want to have anything to do with it, with the Acquisition. She can’t.”

  “Why not?” This was the most Renee had told me about the Acquisition since she revealed the multiple trials. I needed her to keep talking.

  She sank to the floor next to the tub, resting on the bath mat. “I don’t see why I should keep it from you anymore, not now that you and Mr. Sinclair have…”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s going to make everything so much worse for you.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  I was glad I hadn’t told her about what we did that night in the library. She may have had a total come-apart.

  “Rebecca found me at a time in my life when I had no purpose. I-I…” She examined her hands. “I was young and was selling my body in New Orleans.” Red rose from her collar and flowed into her face.

  “I’m not judging you, Renee.” I had no right to pass judgment on anything anyone did to get by.

  “Well, she found me there. Just happened across me, really. It was almost time for the Acquisition Ball, and the Vinemonts had been chosen that year. She was the eldest, so it fell to her to go through the process. I didn’t realize it then, but she was desperate to find her Acquisition. I was it. I was desperate to get out of New Orleans. So, it was fate.” The sorrow in her voice, the sense of betrayal, tore at me.

  “I’m sorry, Renee.”

  “Oh, it was a long time ago.” She swiped a tear away. “It was just that Rebecca was so kind and caring. And she truly was, even though the Acquisition was hanging over her head. Her maid at the time became my ally and told me how Rebecca had always been a lovely, sweet person. She was also a doting mother. I saw that myself. The way she loved on those boys of hers was beautiful.”

  She paused and took a deep breath. “And she was good to me, too. She really was, until she couldn’t be anymore.”

  “The ball?”

  Renee nodded and absentmindedly picked at her collar. “Yes, there and then Christmas.” She blanched. “And then spring and summer.”

  “What happened, Renee? What happens at those trials?”

  “It depends on the Sovereign. My year—” Her voice caught in her throat. “They say my year was one of the most brutal in Acquisition history. They say it with pride, like it was a feather in their cap to enjoy so much suffering.”

  Though the water was still warm, chills ran up and down my spine.

  “Each trial has the same bent—in accordance with tradition—but the Sovereign can choose to add little twists to ‘enhance’ the experience. Christmas was the worst for me.” Her dark eyes sought mine. They were haunted, immensely sad. “The worst for both of us, Rebecca and me. And now I’m afraid it’ll be the worst for you, too.”

  “What happened at Christmas, Renee?” I needed to know but dreaded her answer.

  “My year? My year, they chained us out in the cold. It was freezing. The three of us shivered and cried. Have you ever been truly cold, to the point where your skin goes numb, but underneath there are a million needle pricks?” Her voice took on a faraway tone, and I realized she was no longer looking at me. She was still chained, cold, and afraid.

  “They sat in heated tents and watched, drinking, laughing, and giving in to their most basic desires while we suffered.” She ran her hands up and down her arms. “Then, when they were ready for us, they brought us inside. We were on the verge of hypothermia. One of us even lost a toe from frostbite, though I heard that losing body parts was a rule violation. Everything in moderation.” She laughed, high and desperate.
/>   “They laid us out on the tables in their tents. I was glad to be in the warmth…and then I wasn’t. They took turns. There were so many.” A tremor shot through her.

  Horror welled in me. Is that what Vinemont intended to do to me? Let me be raped by the masked ghouls from the ball?

  “They hurt me. I can’t lie. They did. But at some point during it, I sort of…disconnected. I was gone, burned away for the rest of the trial and for quite some time after. Rebecca wasn’t so lucky. We had been, we were…”

  I reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face with my damp hand. “It’s okay, Renee. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

  I regretted reopening her wounds, but I needed to know. It was now or never.

  She rubbed her tears away on her sleeve. “I loved her. I was certain she loved me. But that trial, what they did to me. It changed her, made her cold, hard. That’s how they win. Do you understand? The only way to win is to become one of them, to really be the sort of monster that can rule the entire depraved aristocracy with an iron fist. Do you see? That’s what they’ll do to Mr. Sinclair. He’ll fall. He’ll break. But he’ll win. And when he does…”

  Her sad eyes captured mine, foretelling my own dark future by retelling her past. “Rebecca won, but she lost herself.”

  20 Sinclair

  “I can’t do anything about it, Lucius.” I sank down into a chair in the study while Lucius paced around the room.

  “I’m tired of the Sovereign taking such a huge cut,” Lucius said. “We work our asses off—well at least I do while you’re out playing public servant—and then fucking Cal comes in here and demands a goddamn ransom.”

  “You know we have to pay.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We’ve been over this a million times.”

  Being Sovereign came with an untold number perks, the main one being a cut of all the income from the other ruling families. There was a yearly price and it was due within the month. Pay or suffer the consequences.

  I was already dealing with far too many consequences to add non-payment to the list.