by Marian Tee
Unable to help his curiosity, he asked Lane, “Do you really not mind he’s a sadist?”
Lane said sadly, “No.”
Bree quickly covered her mouth before someone could see her grin. So this was what an emotional masochist was, she thought. It wasn’t as taboo as she had feared. It was actually kind of…cute.
Dylan’s phone buzzed, his driver telling him the cake had arrived. He glanced at Bree, and taking her cue, his fiancée cleared her throat and asked, “Excuse me, but Lane, could you show me where the restroom is?”
Lane automatically stood up. “Of course.” It was going to start then. She quaked at the thought and struggled for a moment to make her limbs move.
Angelo looked up sharply, sensing her sudden discomfort. “Tesoro?” When she glanced at him, he didn’t mince words, asking simply, “Do you need my help?”
Oh. Her heart constricted, and she wondered if he knew what that always did to her. She had lived with him over a month now, enough to know that his insanely hectic busy schedule would have made a lesser man collapse.
And yet—
Every time she needed him, she didn’t even have to say a word. He would know, and he would always show unreserved willingness to drop everything…for her.
Only for her.
Clearing her throat, she shook her head, stammering, “J-just telling myself I can, umm—” She mentally apologized to Dylan’s fiancée. “—bear going to the restroom alone with B-Bree.”
Dylan smothered a laugh.
Bree blinked. “Umm…” Should she be insulted here? Then she noticed the look of concern on the tycoon’s face. Right. She saw that look on Dylan’s face all the time. It was the look of a mercilessly alpha man who would do anything to protect his woman. She said quickly, “I promise not to turn into a monster while we’re in the restroom.” She gave Angelo a solemn look of promise.
Dylan watched Angelo’s narrowed gaze follow the women out of the conference room. When Angelo turned to him, he said baldly, “Why don’t you just admit it?”
Angelo shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His tone warned the other man to drop the subject.
Dylan only shook his head, continuing, “It’s written all over your face.”
“Again, your words are not making sense.” But of course it did. Angelo twirled his pen between his fingers, thinking grimly that the rockstar made it sound so easy. Admit it. He almost laughed out loud. Admit it…and then what?
Let himself ruin her life for good, her every chance to keep her life normal?
Even he wasn’t as selfish and sadistic as that.
“I know you and Steel belong to the same club,” Dylan said under his breath.
Angelo stilled, but his voice was bland when he answered, “I have never hid the truth about myself.”
“Naturally. You don’t care enough about my opinion to do so.” The rockstar paused. “But I do know that you and Steel are somewhat similar, and it’s begun to occur to me that you may have the same…reservations as he does.”
“Is this the time you, March, and your beloved Bree were in a love triangle?” Angelo mocked.
“Yes,” Dylan answered pleasantly, “but ours, I’m afraid, cannot compare to your triangle with Derek Christopoulos and his wife.”
Humor briefly flashed in Angelo’s eyes as he acknowledged the barb.
“Being in a love triangle isn’t the issue here, though,” Dylan continued idly. “March told me once that the reason he was obsessively thorough in selecting his partner was because he believed not every woman had the capability to understand his needs.”
There were several moments of silence before Angelo said flatly, “I understand his concerns.”
And so Lane was right, Dylan thought.
Instead of answering, he changed the subject, knowing it wasn’t yet the right time to voice his opinion. When Angelo began to exhibit signs of restlessness at the time it took for the two women to return, Dylan offered, “Let me call Bree. You’re just going to look intensely in love if you call Lane because she’s taking too long to come back.”
In the act of calling Lane, Angelo swiftly let his phone fall back into his pocket at the rockstar’s words. Even so, he told Dylan silkily, “No doubt, I’ve picked up the bad habit from you.” But the rockstar only shrugged.
When Bree picked up his call, Dylan asked, “Are you on your way back, babe?” It was a coded question, and when Bree said yes, he smiled. “See you then.” Ending the call, he turned to Angelo, saying, “Bree took Lane to the grand auditorium.”
“Where the corporate party’s being set up?” Angelo was perplexed.
“Also where our exhibit is,” Dylan reminded him. Coming to his feet, he asked, “Shall we join them?”
Angelo nodded, but even when they were inside the elevator, the grim expression on his face didn’t ease up, prompting Dylan to ask what was wrong.
“I’m trying to recall if there are any meetings scheduled there tonight,” Angelo answered reluctantly. While Lane had significantly improved in the past month, it didn’t mean she should constantly expose herself to possible triggers. He had once read that repeated panic attacks could have an adverse effect on—
Dylan started laughing. “Relax, man.”
“I am relaxed,” Angelo said stiffly.
The elevator doors opened to a darkly lit hallway, with the only light coming from the various spotlights beaming down on framed photos of Minuit Rouge on the wall. The exhibit featuring the band’s history, meant to celebrate the recent collaboration between Minuit Rouge and his company, should have been open until nine.
So why the hell were the main lights closed?
“What the hell?” Angelo stalked forward, furious and worried at the thought that someone filthy rich might have terrified her out of her wits right now. Bree would be there with her, but—
He paused when he saw two men in tuxes positioned at the end of the hallway, next to the entrance doors of the auditorium.
Each man held a phantom mask in his hands.
Dylan said from behind, “Lane organized all of this.” Taking one of the masks, he murmured his thanks before handing it to Angelo, saying quietly, “I think after tonight…” He put his mask on. “All your concerns about Lane will be addressed.”
The tux-clad men slowly opened the doors, revealing a stunning opera backdrop and hundreds of guests, all of them familiar because they were Angelo’s most frequent guests in his parties.
Guests who, for better or worse, shared his needs—
Sadists.
Masochists.
“Oh, and by the way…” Dylan clapped a hand behind Angelo’s back. “Happy one month of being committed, whether you admit to it or not.”
****
And so it began again, a cat-and-mouse game that turned into a seductive dance as Angelo Valencia’s darkest side came into light. Every layer of propriety stripped away, leaving someone so exquisitely cruel and sadistic—
Oh, how it would make most women cry.
But for Lane, everything about him was perfect.
The arrogant arch of his brows, the sardonic amusement that made his silver eyes gleam…
The icy precision of his tone and the sweetly acerbic wit of his words…
The way his shoulders would lift in a shrug, or the way his long, elegant fingers would clasp another woman’s hand as he brought it to his lips—
Every glance, every gesture, every syllable—
All of it hurt.
And she welcomed it.
She craved it.
This pain that was so terrible it seemed like Angelo had perfected the art of hurting her.
Her heart was his canvas, and he painted her with terribly beautiful strokes of longing, with the way he allowed her to gaze at him but forbidding her to come any closer. While every woman could shake his hand, brush the hair from his eyes, or pretend to stumble so they could press their breasts against his side, all she could do was
stare and want him from afar.
The longer she gazed at him, the more her desire grew. Oh, how she loved the effortless way he moved through the crowd like an elusive lover, loved it as much as she hated the way women relentlessly chased after him.
He had changed before greeting his guests, his powerful body now made more breathtaking by the way his white formal jacket emphasized the magnificent breadth of his shoulders. The matching tapered pants molded perfectly to the impressively muscular length of his frame while the cotton dress shirt he wore underneath added just the hint of casualness – it was the perfect touch to have him stand out from the rest of the crowd of tux-clad gentlemen.
I don’t need a tux, his clothes said, to appear more gorgeous than most men.
And it was true.
As Lane moved closer, she heard a woman compliment his clothes, and Angelo paused before answering, his mocking gaze finding Lane’s.
I know you chose this, those eyes said.
Of course he would. And it was true. She had spent hours poring over every magazine she could find, wanting to choose an outfit that would make him look like the fairytale prince that he was. And now that she saw him wearing it, every handpicked item—
Oh, the agonizing pleasure it gave her, knowing that she had made him even more beautiful than he usually was, and now no woman could take her eyes off him.
Because of her.
She had made him irresistible to women.
A helpless smile tugged on her lips at the thought.
If that didn’t prove to him she was as twisted as he was, she didn’t know what else would.
****
The night waltzed on, and they continued their dance of seduction where all other players were meant to paint her heart with every shade of jealousy there was. It was an endless parade of beautiful women wanting a piece of him, none of them realizing that every sound they made —
The coy notes of their laughter, the throaty invitation in their banter, and the rasp of their dresses as they moved on the floor—
All of it became mere melodies that played into the music only Angelo and Lane could hear, a song that would last only for as long as they could keep playing this little game of anticipation.
Every few minutes, Angelo would look to where Lane was, and he would ask with a lift of his eyebrow if it was time to stop.
Are you jealous enough?
Are you hurt enough?
Are you ready to cry?
But every time he did, she would only look at him, her eyes filled with such agony and desire that he knew she was telling him she wanted more.
Make me more jealous, hurt me more, make it so until I cried.
And so he did, seducing without being seduced, flirting with his body but never with his heart. The thought that she was aching with jealousy had his cock so hard it became difficult to walk, and it was only the knowledge that it was the same for her—
Ah, Dio, he only had to close his eyes and he could imagine her standing next to him—
Close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath every time he smiled at another woman—
Close enough to see the prickle of her breasts as her glorious flesh swelled in demand, wanting his hands on them and only them and no one else’s—
Close enough to smell the scent of her arousal—
Fuck.
The music in their mind reached a crescendo.
He opened his eyes.
Fuck waiting.
He wanted her. Now. And he knew just how to make her come.
He turned to the woman closest to him and made an act as if to kiss her.
She was by his side sooner than he expected, crying out, “No!”
He laughed, stepping away from the other woman, and turned to Lane. Her eyes were swimming with tears, and he asked under his breath, “You think just seeing you about to cry will stop me from kissing another woman?”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Sadist!”
His hands clasping her waist, he pulled her close so he could lick the tear away. “I love your tears,” he murmured. “It tastes as good as I remembered.” He drew her even closer, whispering to her ear, “You did very well, my Lane.”
Oh. Her entire body reacted to his words, breasts swelling, nipples jutting out, core aching, and toes curling hard. Unable to stop herself, she put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him—
He sucked his breath, and the sound made her whimper and press herself closer to him. This time, she felt his big, hard cock throb furiously against her folds and whimpered again.
His hands tightened painfully around her waist. “What,” he bit out, “do you think you’re doing?”
She couldn’t answer, could only start rubbing herself against his cock—
He muttered an expletive over her head, and then he was whirling her around the dance floor. Oh, how swiftly the room spun around her as they glided. She surrendered herself to his hold, her eyes drifting close as she blindly followed his move—
She heard the door shut, and when she opened her eyes, she realized he had taken her to one of the restrooms. Releasing her, he kicked the door shut and locked it then slowly turned around to look at her.
For one moment, they simply stared at each other, the enormity of what this night meant weighing down on them, of how much would and should change—
And then they moved simultaneously, and there was no time or need for them to think.
She threw herself at him just as he came to haul her close, and their mouths fused in a wild, deep kiss, their tongues mating as her arms went around his neck and he wrapped her legs around his waist.
Without breaking the kiss, he lowered her on the countertop and once he had her secured, he kissed his way down her body, tearing every scrap of silk in his way.
He ripped her bra off and his mouth latched to one nipple.
He sucked her so hard she screamed and clutched his shoulders while her legs tightened around his waist. He moved to her other breast and her fingers moved to his head so she could push her nipple deeper into his mouth. “D-don’t stop,” she gasped, and he sucked on her nipple so hard she saw stars.
He moved further down and her panties went the same way as the rest of her underwear. She caught her breath as he pushed her legs wide open—
And then he was eating her pussy, licking, sucking, nibbling, and she screamed and screamed until pleasure began to stir inside her, making her inner muscles quiver.
“Oh God, Angelo—”
His teeth closed over her clit, and she came hard, Lane’s eyes rolling back as she cried his name out.
But it was just the start.
Even as her orgasm jolted through Lane’s body, she felt him turning her over on her stomach, and then he was slipping inside of her—
Oh my gosh, it felt like he was ripping her into two with his massive cock—
He began ramming his cock into her, so hard and fast that it brought tears to her eyes.
And she wanted more.
“A-Angelo!”
He shuddered at the way she cried his name out, loving and hating it because of the way it brought him down. His perfect match, the rockstar had called her, and now he knew, whether he wanted or not—
It was true.
The knowledge made him withdraw his cock all the way out, but when he thrust back, it was in her other hole, and she screamed at the shocking, beautiful pain of it.
“Oh God, Angelo!”
Wrapping his arm around her, he found the entrance of her pussy and thrust his fingers in. He fucked her both ways, and pulling her hair so she would look at him, he took her mouth with his.
Now, her every hole was his.
He pounded her anus with his cock, fucked her vagina with his fingers, and devoured her mouth with his.
He owned her, he fucking owned her, and he branded his claim on her with every thrust.
He waited for her to protest but she didn’t, only crying and shud
dering in his arms, and every inner muscle in her body tightening around his.
More, her body begged him.
More!
More!
More!
The knowledge that she wanted him like this tore through Angelo, and he came with a hoarse growl. He shot his cum to her, and releasing her mouth so he could straighten, he held her by the hair and thrust harder and faster to her as he poured all his cum into her—
She screamed as her own body reached an orgasm, but he didn’t stop, his hips pumping nonstop behind her.
“Angelo, Angelo, Angelo.” Over and over she sobbed his name.
He pulled out, turned her on her back, and drove his cock into her pussy.
“Oh my God, Angelo, please—”
He smiled down at her. “No. I won’t stop.”
She cried out.
“I’m going to fuck you until morning, and you, my Lane, will want it.”
“I’m going to fuck you until I have every hole of your body filled with my cum, and you will want it.”
Aaaaaah.
She lay back and let him take over, knowing that every word was true.
He was going to fuck her until morning, fuck her until every hole was filled with his cum, and she…would…want…it.
Chapter Eighteen
“Thanks for agreeing to watch the concert with me.” Bree gave her new friend a quick hug. Pulling away, she added a bit worriedly, “I just hope you’re okay sitting in the VIP section. I told Dylan it might be better to get us seats at the lower box section, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“It’s really okay,” Lane assured the rockstar’s girlfriend. “A-Angelo and I a-agreed that this could be another exercise for me. New coping techniques and a-all that.”
Riiiight. But Lane was already stammering now, and it was just the two of them. What would happen if they were surrounded by some of the snootier fans of Minuit Rouge?
Only one way to find out, Bree thought with a mental grimace. Summoning a smile, she asked Lane, “Let’s go?”
At Lane’s nod, Bree led the way to the concert’s backstage area. There was a huge crowd in front of the doors, all of them girls dressed in every manner of clothing and chanting the names of the band’s male members.