Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite Book 6)

by Rina Kent

  I pretend to be unaffected as he loosens the ribbon from around my neck and unbuttons my uniform’s shirt. He takes his sweet time with it. He’s watching my face the entire time, probably hoping for me to squirm or something.

  In his dreams.

  “How do you know about this place anyway?” I try to focus on something else other than his fingers as they brush over my skin.

  When my shirt falls open, I let it drop from my arms and join the jacket on the hanger.

  “It was my father’s.”

  Oh. “Helen knows about it?”

  “She just knows it’s one of the gazillion businesses William Nash owned. She doesn’t get too involved.”

  “And…you do?” My voice turns breathy as he opens the zipper on my skirt and it falls down my shaking legs.

  I step out of it and let him pick it up and hang it.

  “I do. That’s why you were allowed in. There’s a brutal screening process of applicants here. You have to be eighteen and older, but not just any legally aged person can walk through those doors. They have to be investigated and proven to have both the financial support and power to be accepted. It was my father’s way of gaining dirt on the dark and depraved minds of most of his board of directors. So he didn’t want many other outsiders around, unless he could collect some dirt on them, too. I get a free pass for being the heir. Aren’t you glad you know me?”

  I can’t concentrate on his words, because his fingers are running over my stomach. He stands up again so that his front is nearly glued to mine and he reaches behind my back to unhook my bra.

  As it drops to the floor, he groans. “I love your tits. I’ve loved them since you refused to show them to me when we were fourteen. But do you know what I love more?”

  I couldn’t speak even if I tried, so I keep my mouth shut. He takes my breasts in his hands and runs his thumbs against the hard tips over and over until my breathing is chopped to bloody pieces.

  “Marking them.” His lips latch on to the flesh of my left breast where he left a hickey the other day. It’s like he wants to mark the same place.

  He sucks and nibbles, and it’s almost as if he’s fingering or fucking me. My thighs clench and my heartbeat picks up.

  At this rate, I’ll beg him to take me right here and now. But I’ll never do that.

  I put my hands on his shoulders. “I said, n-no sex.”

  “Sex is when I’m pounding into you until you scream, Butterfly.” His eyes glint as he pulls away from my tortured breast. “I’m only touching you ever so gently.”

  Wanker.

  His fingers hook on either side of my underwear and he slides them down my legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I step out of them mindlessly.

  “I don’t have to touch you to know you’re turned on. I can smell you.” He bunches the underwear in his hand and sniffs them.

  My lips part and I feel as if someone’s doused me in fire.

  That’s not supposed to be so hot, right?

  “S-stop it,” I murmur.

  “You didn’t make a rule about this. You don’t get to now.” He watches me and my toes curl as I resist the urge to cross my arms.

  It doesn’t matter how many times he sees me naked. I always feel this sense of intimidation.

  I shouldn’t, and if it were anyone else, I probably wouldn’t, but it’s Cole.

  Anything sex-related has happened with him. My first kiss, and second and third and all, actually. My first fantasy, my first sex dream, my first masturbation, my first oral, and losing my virginity.

  All of it.

  He’s like the definition of sex in my mind and it’s nearly impossible to shed away that image.

  He yanks the black dress off the hanger and throws it over my head. I help him, letting the sleeveless outfit fall to my knees, confused about his reaction. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to see me naked. But why? He’s the one who wanted to undress me.

  Instead of placing the underwear with the rest of my clothes, he shoves it in his trousers’ pocket.

  “Hey!” I protest. “That’s mine.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Are you a pervert?”

  He places a kiss on my nose, his voice teasing. “I’ve always been a pervert for you, Butterfly. It’s not my fault you’re only just figuring it out.”

  I shove him away and he chuckles as he puts on the mask before strapping the other around my eyes.

  Cole stops to watch me, then he nods with approval before interlacing my hand with his.

  I start to pull away, but he keeps me in place. “No one will know who we are. This is a private room only I use. Besides, the masks.”

  He’s right. Now that I study him closely, he’s a bit unrecognisable and I must be too with the help of the mask.

  After we make our way out of the room, Cole leads me down a long hall with dim red lighting and black flowery wallpaper. A few black chandeliers hang from the ceiling.

  I’d never tell Cole this, but I’m glad he’s holding my hand. I feel like demons will jump from the walls and devour us.

  Or me, to be more specific. Cole would probably make friends with them.

  We stop in front of a door. “This is a viewing room.”

  “What does that mean?” I whisper, not sure why it feels like I should.

  “It means we get to watch a couple have sex through a one-way window. They know they’re being watched, but they don’t know who’s watching and they can’t see us.”

  “People like that?”

  “You’d be surprised, Butterfly.”

  He clutches the handle.

  “Wait.” I swallow. “I don’t want to watch with other people.”

  “Why? Are you shy?”

  “I just don’t want to. That’s like watching porn.”

  “Porn is fake. This isn’t. Besides, I usually watch alone anyway. Perks of being the heir.”

  I release a breath and let him guide me inside.

  “Ah, they’ve already started.”

  I don’t focus on what Cole is saying because I’m trying to adjust to the darkness in this room. It’s almost like a film theatre, but the seats are sofas — bigger in size and fewer in number.

  Instead of a screen, there’s a large window that gives a view of another room. It has the same black wallpaper. There’s a table in the middle on which a petite brunette is tied, spread-eagled, and a bigger black man is fucking her.

  The sound of their groans and moans echo around us like a symphony.

  Oh. God.

  My thighs clench at the power of his thrusts. He looks as if he’s hurting her with his size, and yet, she’s screaming, “More…faster…harder!”

  I watched porn once. Just that one time after being intrigued by all the praise Ronan and Xander have for it. I wasn’t impressed. It seemed staged and fake and all the sounds they made turned me off.

  This isn’t porn. This is…humans at their truest, rawest, most real form.

  I don’t realise I’ve stopped walking until Cole tugs me by the hand to sit me beside him on one of the plush chairs.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” His hot breaths cause my skin tingle as he whispers into my ear.

  I want to call him sick for having such voyeuristic tendencies, but I’m too enthralled by the scene to build my defences.

  The ecstasy on both their faces grips me by the gut and I couldn’t look away even if I tried.

  My nipples tighten against the dress, and although the cloth isn’t a harsh material, it feels like they’ll cut through it.

  A strong hand clutches my thigh and I jolt as a zap of arousal flashes through me. I slowly focus on Cole, on his shadowed face and cut lethal, yet handsome, features. My eyes are so droopy, I’m not sure he can see them.

  “You want me to relieve that ache, Butterfly?” His hand sneaks under my dress, up my thigh, electrifying my skin along the way.

  I part my legs. I don’t know why, but I just do. It could be the different set
ting or the couple’s groans, how he’s pounding into her and owning her.

  I want that.

  But not with just anyone. Only Cole.

  “You know, it’s not obligatory to remove your underwear around here,” he muses.

  “Then why did you?” I’m so turned on, my voice turns breathy.

  “Because it gives me straight access to this.” He dips two fingers against my folds and I moan, my heart lurching in my chest. “You want me to finger you?”

  I open my legs farther in answer.

  “You’ll have to do something better than that.”

  I stare at the couple, then at Cole’s arm disappearing under my dress, and I don’t think as I slip my hand into his trousers and grip his thick, hard cock.

  A groan slips free from Cole’s throat as I work him up and down. I’ve never done this before. I’m being driven by pure instinct and the need for more. I do it fast and strong because I suspect Cole wants everything intense.

  “Ah, fuck.” His voice is filled with lust as he circles my clit. “I love your hand on me, but you have to say the word for me so I’ll finger you, Butterfly.”

  The woman’s moans echo louder as she screams, “Harder…harder…harder!”

  “C-Cole, please…” I pick up my pace and he finally thrusts his fingers inside me.

  Three in one go.

  I nearly collapse from the sensation alone. I don’t stop working him up and down as he pounds into me in a rhythm that matches the man’s.

  I can’t see their faces because of the masks, but I can feel the passion, the raw claiming, and I moan with her. I arch my back like her.

  My whimpers fill the space as I focus not only on my pleasure, but also on Cole’s. I’m going to bring him to orgasm, I’m going to be the reason…

  He hooks his fingers inside me and teases my clit. I fall apart around him, my thighs shaking and my moan mixing with his groan.

  At first, I think he has come too, but he didn’t. He stands up with my hand still around his cock. “Put me in your mouth.”

  My thighs shake at the image as I part my lips and guide him inside. I can’t stop staring at him, at the rippling of his chest muscles and his God-like presence. I only glide my tongue over him a few times before he comes all over my tongue. His cum drips down my lips and chin.

  He gathers it with his thumb, his eyes shining with raw possessiveness as he smears it over my lips.

  “Hmm. You look marked and mine.”

  Cole thrusts his fingers inside my mouth and makes me swallow every drop. He licks his fingers that were inside me at the same time.

  As I stare up at him, I realise two things.

  One, he’s ruined me for anyone else.

  Two, I’m screwed.

  25

  Silver

  We don’t go home right away.

  Instead, Cole says we have to eat. When Derek showed because I might have forgotten to text him, Cole told him to find a way to drive my car back as I was going with him.

  All the way, he’s been trying to finger me under my skirt because I stole my underwear from his trousers when we changed back. I’ve been slapping his hand away, to no avail.

  But that’s the thing about Cole. He never gives up. If he wants something, he doesn’t stop.

  Not even close.

  We end up at a secluded restaurant that’s not on the main street. It’s like he knows all the hidden areas, which shouldn’t be a surprise, considering the secret life he’s leading through that club.

  My core still tingles in remembrance of that couple, of their ecstasy — and mine.

  It’s an experience I’ll never be able to forget. I never knew I liked voyeurism until I came undone around Cole’s fingers. He’s slowly but surely ruining me.

  The restaurant is Italian and has wooden decor with tables and chairs in the shape of trees. We settle across from each other and order wood-fired pizza. I placed an extra order of French fries with mayonnaise.

  If I’m getting in the calories, might as well go all in. I’m too hungry after that experience in the club and I can’t trick my stomach into accepting salad.

  “We could’ve eaten at home.” I study my French-manicured nails to not look at Cole.

  Even though he’s reading from a book, he’s also been watching me in this intense way that turns me into a self-conscious fool. I’m not the type to get self-conscious. Ever.

  Except when this wanker is involved.

  “I’m hungry.” His voice drops with clear seduction.

  “Well, you could’ve eaten at home.”

  “I can’t wait until home.”

  “Stop it,” I hiss, watching our surroundings. Thankfully, the place isn’t full at this time.

  “Stop what? I’m only saying I’m hungry.”

  “I know what you’re thinking, okay?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “You’re recalling what just happened in the club.” I lower my voice. “Don’t you dare bring it up to anyone.”

  “Yes, Miss Prim and Proper,” he mocks. “But that’s not what I was thinking about.”

  “No?”

  “I was actually picturing eating you instead of the food we ordered.”

  My lips part and I gulp, the image stabbing through my mind without permission. Just like Cole. He’s toying with my brain in more ways than one.

  I clear my throat, opting to change the subject. “Is that book as depressing as the other book from that author?”

  He’s reading Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. When I was fourteen, I read Norwegian Wood by the same author after that quote. I spent the night crying with how the story turned out. I loved the hero so much, and I hated how fate dealt with his emotions.

  “Haruki Murakami’s books aren’t depressing. They’re unique.”

  Cole doesn’t read much fiction, if at all. He usually has his head buried in philosophy and psychological books. I know he loves Helen’s books, but they’re mostly psychological crime thrillers. I take a pause when he says he loves a certain fiction author who doesn’t write in the psychological vein.

  “What’s so unique about them?” I ask.

  “It’s his imagery. He wrenches you out of the world and he offers riddles without solutions, letting the readers solve them themselves. Everyone’s interpretation is different from the other. It’s art.”

  I see it then. The gleam in his eyes whenever he reads said books. Cole likes the challenge and being immersed in something so deep, he forgets his surroundings. It’s his own form of chaos.

  “Most find it frustrating, of course, and bombard the publisher with endless questions.”

  “I think it’s beautiful.”

  He lifts his head, raising a brow. “You do?”

  “Yes, I think many people need surrealism and to be able to find their own solutions.” Like Cole.

  I like Haruki for producing books that keep Cole invested and excited. I even forgive him for breaking my heart in Norwegian Wood.

  The waitress brings us our pizzas and bats her lashes at him. Bitch.

  “Uh, excuse me?” I force a fake smile. “I ordered mayonnaise with my French fries.”

  “Coming right up.” She smiles one final time. I glare at her back as she leaves and even when she brings it to me.

  “The service here sucks,” I grumble.

  Cole smiles.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “Your jealousy can be adorable, Butterfly.”

  “I’m not jealous.” I take my first bite of pizza and burn my tongue. Ow!

  Cole slides the cup of cola to me, still smiling in that blood-boiling way.

  “I’m not jealous,” I insist, taking a slurp of the drink. “I just wanted my mayonnaise.”

  “Who even eats mayonnaise with French fries when they have pizza?”

  “I do.” I stuff one in my mouth.

  He leans over the table so his face is mere inches away and he reaches a hand to me. I freeze. What
is he doing? Is he going to kiss me in public or something?

  Oh, God.

  Cole wipes my nose and then sits back down. “You had something there.”

  I release a long breath, not knowing if I should feel relieved or disappointed. What the hell is wrong with me?

  We spend the rest of the meal in easy conversation about other fiction authors Cole reads, which aren’t a lot. Aside from Haruki Murakami, there’s Helen, John Le Carré, Honoré de Balzac, Kahlil Gibran, and Lee Child.

  Speaking of, Cole says there’s a new release by Lee Child that he needs to buy, so we swing by the bookstore after we leave the restaurant. He teases me all the way about my mayonnaise eating habit. He really does enjoy getting on my nerves.

  So in the bookstore, I load the dice against him. “Hey, nerd. You’re supposed to live your life, not spend it stuck in books.”

  “I have both.” He retrieves a few copies from the new release shelf. “I have fun and read books.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Didn’t I just prove it in the club, Butterfly?”

  Touché.

  “You’re still a nerd, Cole.”

  “You still find it hot. I know you watch me when I read.” He winks. “I watch you when I read, too. Especially in the pool.”

  “Pervert.”

  “I think we’ve already established that. But so are you.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are for me.”

  “I said I’m not.”

  Fine, so maybe I watch him a little. Okay, whenever I get the chance. Now that we live under the same roof, I can’t actually take my eyes off him, even if I try.

  He runs his fingers over the books as he moves from one row to another and I swallow, recalling those same lean fingers inside me not so long ago.

  I follow him like a lost puppy, unable to cut eye contact with his hand.

  “Remembering something?” He smirks at me.

  “No.” I stare at the opposite shelf.

  “What did I say about that word?”

  “What are you going to do about it?” I place a hand on my hip. “Fuck me in the middle of the bookstore?”

  He stalks towards me, and before I know it, he cages my nape with his hand. He pushes me until my back hits the shelf, then he slams his free hand by my head. His lips inch forward until they’re a breath away from mine, as if he’s about to kiss me.