Greed (A Sinful Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Eva Charles

  Although I shut my eyes to hide, his touch feels good. So, so good.

  “Open your eyes. I want to see your pleasure.”

  I do as I’m told, but it’s starting to get to be too much, and my chest is tightening. It’s those damn conflicting feelings again. Get out of my head, I want to scream. Get out of my head!

  “You’re so wet, Daniela,” he murmurs, coating his fingers with the evidence. “I knew you would be.”

  This is new to me. The filthy commentary. The unabashed openness and discussion. Josh and I had sex mostly with the lights out. He never said a word until it was over, and God knows, I never did.

  Fear is starting to creep in. I don’t know if it’s the newness of it all or that I don’t mind his dirty talk. That I don’t mind the shame. But the apprehension is growing, and he senses it.

  “It’s okay,” he reassures me. “You can pretend this is whatever you want. Whatever you need to free your inhibitions.”

  He rubs my belly to calm me, his fingertips skating over the soft skin. “You can make me into some monster if that soothes your conscience. But we both know you want this as much as I do.”

  I don’t say a word. I don’t bother to deny it. Because it’s true.

  When he slides a finger into me, my walls squeeze it, and he pushes in another, rubbing my clit with his palm.

  The sensation sends small zings through me, and I squirm into his hand for more.

  He pulls away, leaving me with nothing. “I decide how much you get, Princesa. Your job is to just feel and enjoy what I give you.”

  I’m hot and sweaty. Confused. Agitated. And I’m about to jump out of my skin when he lifts my feet one at a time and drops a small kiss on each heel before placing it on the arm of the chair. His elbows rest on my inner thighs so that I remain open to him.

  Embarrassment, not shame, begins to wedge its way in, and because I can’t close my legs, I close my eyes.

  “Keep your eyes open, Daniela. Don’t make me say it again.” His tone is threatening, and I’m certain there will be consequences if I don’t obey.

  “I’m going to lick your gorgeous cunt, and you’re going to watch until your legs tremble.”

  His face disappears, and I feel his flat tongue make a long sweep over my quivering pussy.

  Oh God.

  He does it again, and again, and again, circling the swollen bud when I least expect it, licking until I writhe on the table. Until there are no doubts left inside me. No shame. No embarrassment. Until all I know is his mouth and my throbbing pussy.

  It’s then that he pulls away.

  26

  Daniela

  “No. No. Please don’t stop.” The plea comes from me, but the voice belongs to a woman I don’t recognize. A woman caught in the voluptuous curl of lust. A desperate woman, with passionate needs and desires. It can’t be me.

  Antonio skims his hands across my belly, tonguing the sensitive skin, moving lower and lower, slower and slower, until I whine, because I need more. More of his mouth, his tongue, the rasp of his whiskers. More of his hands, his fingers—and God help me, I want his cock.

  Only when he’s ready does he go back to eating my needy wet flesh. He adds two fingers to the party, and the sounds that come from me are feral and reckless.

  I grip his head between my hands. I pull his hair. But he ignores my urging, keeping to his own rhythm until my thighs tense.

  Then he pulls away.

  It’s cruel and punishing. And my cries are louder, more desperate this time.

  “Please,” I beg without a trace of shame.

  “Please what, Princesa?”

  I don’t want to say it, but I will. My pride and all decorum are buried under the achy need he sparked. “Please—fuck me.”

  His mouth twitches, and there’s a smug sense of satisfaction in his eyes. I don’t care.

  “Mmmm,” he moans. “I wish I could, but I gave you my word.”

  “I don’t care about your promise.” I pout like a child who’s just been told she can’t have chocolate before dinner.

  He lowers his head again and coaxes the little pearl onto the tip of his tongue, blowing on it gently. It’s sublime. I wriggle and buck off the table, but the scream and the orgasm die together before they materialize.

  “What?” I gasp. “No!”

  Antonio stands and unbuckles his belt. And as though it’s something I do every day, my fingers slide down my belly while he tugs at his zipper.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, swatting my hand away from my pussy. “You’re lucky I don’t put you to bed with your hands bound so you can’t rub that greedy little cunt.”

  Bind my hands? He wouldn’t. Would he?

  Antonio frees his cock from his pants, palming it while I watch. It’s steely and smooth—and big. His hand moves from root to tip, and I’m riveted by how comfortable he is with his body.

  His cock gets longer and thicker as he pulls, and a fat, milky bead forms at the center of the dusky crown.

  I want to taste the creamy little drop. I want to lap it up and let it dissolve on my tongue. But some part of me feels too shy, too inexperienced, to lean over and lick.

  While I’m contemplating a move, Antonio steps closer and rubs his swollen cock over my clit. I whimper. Every nerve ending in my body sways faster and faster, building the momentum to push me off the edge.

  The slide of flesh against flesh is both excruciating and exquisite. I need the release. I need it. But with the tiniest shift of his hips, or a slight change in pace, he dangles the orgasm just beyond my grasp. It’s pure evil.

  Just when it feels within reach again, just as I’m about to take it, he pulls away, leaving me frantic.

  I grope for him, but he slips his hands behind my knees and lifts my bottom off the table, opening my legs at just the right angle to create a cradle. He nestles his cock on my pussy and lets it lie there for several seconds, throbbing, while I pulse under him.

  His eyes are black and hooded. His breath comes in heavy gasps and spurts. He’s close too.

  “This is what you deserve,” he mutters, sliding me back and forth along his length, bringing my knees together until my pussy embraces his cock. It’s like I’m a doll he’s playing with. A toy. A fuck toy.

  But I don’t care about any of it. My sole reason for living right now is the orgasm I’m chasing. The one he’s held out of reach for too long.

  I’m close. “I’m so close,” I whimper.

  Antonio wrenches himself away. He swipes a hand across his mouth and begins to pump his fat cock. I’ve never watched a man pleasure himself. It’s arousing and lewd, and I can’t stop staring.

  His head falls back. His features tighten. His face is flushed and sweaty, contorted as though in pain. He’s tormented. And beautiful. Achingly beautiful as he pulls his proud cock roughly.

  I feel the eruption as it happens—as it wrenches itself from his muscular body.

  His tortured grunt echoes inside me. It’s all I hear as he sprays his seed on my stomach, my breasts, and my mound.

  My thighs clench, but the orgasm is now well beyond my grasp. I’m confused. And frustrated.

  I don’t understand.

  “You. Are. Mine,” he growls, daring me to question his right. Daring anyone to question it.

  While I’m still reeling, he steps back and adjusts his trousers, tucking in his shirt. His breathing is still erratic.

  “You were lucky that all you bought yourself was a little edging. Next time, I’ll tie you to the bed and edge you until the need is wound so tight, it’s unbearable. I’ll be merciless,” he adds just above a whisper.

  There’s an eerie calmness about him as the threats emerge, one after another, each more lethal than the last.

  “A manipulation is no better than a lie. In many ways, it’s worse. If you ever try to manipulate me again, I’ll toss you to the guards and let them have at you. When they’ve had their fill, they’ll take you deep into the caves
and drop you into a real prison. The accommodations are far less luxurious than here.”

  I sit up and grab my shawl to cover myself. My eye catches the sparkle of my mother’s locket, and shame floods me.

  I’m a disaster. Sullied by his cum. So furious I could scream.

  I can’t stop the tears. They gush unrestrained. The sadness and anger and embarrassment. A whirling storm, tearing through me, leveling every wall I’ve erected to protect myself.

  He tosses my shirt at me. “Clean yourself up.”

  I’m shaking uncontrollably. “You are a despicable human being.”

  “I am.” He steps closer, almost in my face. “How does it feel to have begged a despicable human being to fuck you? I’m guessing not so good.”

  He starts toward the door, then turns. “And don’t barter with your body like a common whore. It’s beneath you.”

  Something inside me shrivels and dies. And, for a fleeting moment, I want the rest of me to die with it. No, Daniela. You’re a survivor.

  I hold the shawl against me, shielding my nakedness from him.

  “My body is all I have to barter with, you bastard. You’ve taken everything else from me. Everything,” I screech, my voice shaking as much as my hands.

  Antonio stops short of the doorway, but he doesn’t turn to face me. It’s as though he’s waiting for me to hurl more vitriol at him before he leaves. But I have nothing left. I’m empty. Shell-shocked by his behavior.

  After a few moments of silence, he squares his shoulders and walks out, leaving me on the table with the rest of the leftovers.

  27

  Antonio

  My damn phone has gone off three times in the last fifteen minutes, but I was too busy teaching Daniela a lesson to even glance at it.

  What a fucking joke. If anyone got schooled tonight, it was me.

  When my mouth was on her pussy, I didn’t give a damn who was on the phone, or whether the world around me was imploding. All I cared about were her whimpers and moans, and the way she trembled when I licked her wet, pink flesh.

  At least I didn’t shove my dick into her like she wanted. After I promised I wouldn’t fuck her. I was half a second away from burying myself balls-deep inside her. After I promised, repeatedly, that I wouldn’t.

  She said she didn’t care about the promise. Maybe not today. But one day, when it matters, she’d remember I wasn’t strong enough to keep my promise to her.

  If I had half a goddamn brain, first thing in the morning, I’d put her on a plane, send her back to the US, and be done with her.

  “What?” I growl when Lucas answers.

  “About fifteen minutes ago, we learned that an ambulance was on its way to Abel Huntsman’s house. It’s there now. Thought you’d want to know.”

  Christ. “What happened?”

  “Not entirely sure. Sounds like he had a stroke. We’ll have more information once the EMTs are outside the house.”

  We don’t have surveillance inside my uncle’s house. It’s swept regularly, and if we were caught, it would be World War III—or worse.

  “I’m on my way to the villa. Cristiano with you?”

  “Yeah. We’re here for the duration.”

  I disconnect the call and head to the garage, where Thiago is waiting.

  This night just keeps getting better and better.

  Dinner was a roller-coaster ride. One minute, Daniela was all excited about a vintage year for the valley, and the next, we were at each other’s throat about a feckless pussy named Josh.

  I don’t give a shit about her having sex with Josh. Not really. Although I’m beginning to think it bothers me more than it should.

  I didn’t expect Daniela to be a virgin. It’s important to some men in our culture, mainly the older men, but not to me. I was fourteen the first, and last, time I popped a cherry. Clara Freitas. She was sixteen. I wasn’t a virgin, but my experience had been with whores—women my father paid to make me a man.

  Before we were even dressed, Clara invited me to have dinner with her family. “How about Sunday then?” she asked after I declined the first invitation.

  “You’re a nice girl, but I don’t want to have dinner with your family. I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”

  She started to cry, with the wet blood still smeared on her thighs. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but mixed with semen it looked like someone had been hurt. And they had been.

  “You took something from me that I only had to give once,” she said, sobbing. “It’s gone forever. Why would you take something of such value that you only wanted for a few minutes?”

  She wasn’t wrong, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

  Even as a teenager, playing with virgins was unnecessary. There were plenty of experienced girls—and later, women—who were willing to let me into their beds for the night. And when they wanted more, they were better equipped to shoulder the disappointment—because there was never more.

  I’ve never lied to a woman to get her into bed, or promised anything I didn’t deliver. That includes Clara Freitas. But I’ve stayed clear of innocents ever since that afternoon with her. It’s not worth the hassle.

  No, it’s not important that Daniela’s not a virgin. It would complicate our situation even more.

  What is important, what has me so pissed off I could gut someone, is that she tried to play me like I’m a chump. Manipulations and lies are fraternal twins, each carrying the same deceitful gene.

  She can’t be trusted. Plain and simple.

  It might be my problem, but it’s about to become her problem too—and she’s not going to like it.

  I fucked up tonight. Let my personal needs take precedence over my business. Something I never do. I should have responded the first time my phone went off—or at least glanced at it, for Chrissakes.

  The worst part is that I knew there was a problem—no one who has my number would call and text three times in the span of fifteen minutes unless there was an issue. A huge issue.

  What if it had been a cargo problem, or another emergency that needed my immediate attention?

  The stakes are too high for too many people. I can’t afford to be distracted by pussy. Not even a sweet one that quivers deliciously on my tongue.

  28

  Antonio

  “Any news?” I ask as soon as I set foot in the villa.

  “They called the priest,” Cristiano says soberly.

  It’s not that he gives a shit whether my uncle lives or dies, but every time a major player dies, the ground shifts, and things in the valley become unstable—and dangerous. I hate my uncle, too, but he’s a big player in our world.

  “We’re sure it’s Abel?”

  “We have eyes on the hospital, inside and out. It’s definitely him.”

  “Tomas?”

  “He went in the ambulance with your uncle.”

  Sucking his cock, I’m sure.

  “I’m going to call Rafael.” I turn to Cristiano. “Contact Luis. Have him get the plane ready for a quick trip to London and back.”

  “When do you want the flight to leave Porto?”

  “As soon as possible. I want Rafa here before the sonofabitch dies. Abel’s taken plenty from that kid, but he’s not taking away his right to say his piece while the old man is still breathing.”

  Rafa came to live with me a few years after his mother disappeared. He has dyslexia, and instead of getting him the instruction he needed, his father beat him for being stupid. He pummeled him at every turn. As far as Abel was concerned, the kid couldn’t do anything right. Although it’s as likely Rafa was punished because he was my aunt’s favorite. She loved both her boys, but Rafael was the baby.

  Things got so bad that my mother decided to petition for custody. I couldn’t allow it. The last thing I needed was for her to get caught in the crosshairs. My uncle wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. He’d already murdered one Adriano girl. He wasn’t going to kill her sister too. Not while I still had a pulse. Besides
, she’d already raised one asshole. She didn’t need to raise another.

  Breaking the news to Rafael is the last thing I want to do right now. I don’t care how much of a monster Abel is—he’s still Rafa’s father. It doesn’t matter how cold your blood runs. It still affects you when your father takes his last breath—for good or bad.

  “Hey, old man,” Rafael teases when he answers the phone. He doesn’t really sound surprised to hear from me. We talk by phone or video-chat at least once a week. He’d prefer to text, but I won’t allow it. You can’t tell shit about how someone’s doing from a text.

  “I’m shocked you aren’t tucked between the covers with some warm milk,” he adds with a snort. “It’s long past your bedtime.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m happy to meet you in the gym, anytime, anywhere, my friend. Mano a mano.”

  He always laughs, but he’s yet to take me up on it. That’s how I know I’m still on top.

  “Do you think we can catch up tomorrow? I’m kind of busy right now.”

  “I have bad news. It can’t wait.”

  I hear him suck in a breath. “What’s wrong?” There’s genuine concern in his voice. Empathy. “You okay?”

  My chest swells. I’m not proud of many things I’ve done in my life, but I’m proud of the young man I helped raise.

  “I’m fine.” I pause, deciding the best way to break the news. There isn’t one.

  “Your father suffered a stroke. I don’t know much else, except that they’ve called a priest. The last rites aren’t administered at the drop of a hat. They must be reasonably certain he’s going to die.”

  Rafael doesn’t miss a beat. “Shit happens.”

  There’s no empathy now. I can’t say that I blame him. But this is not how it’s going to play out.

  “That’s it? Your father’s dying, and that’s all you have to say?”

  “Pretty much. I’ve got a hot babe in my bed, and she misses me. I’ll catch you la—”