by LP Lovell
"What is it?" Ezra slowly looks up from his paperwork. A wry smile pulls at his lips as his dark eyes focus on me. "Impatient aren't we?" He clasps his hands behind his head, and my attention immediately goes to the tight material straining over his biceps. His dirty-blond hair is messy, and I want to drag my fingers through it. Honestly, the way he looks makes me want to ride him hard while I watch the life drain from him. You shouldn't want him, Evelyn. He's a demon.
I did not plan this through. I'm unprepared, and I don't like this feeling creeping through me like a cold fog. I take his massive frame in, swallowing as I chastise myself for the uncontrolled throbbing between my thighs.
He watches me carefully, assessing my every move. "Why are you here, Evie? Are you brave, or just stupid?"
"I can't stop thinking about you hurting me," I say quietly.
He cocks an eyebrow while his eyes flick over my body. "Stupid it is," he says with a smirk.
A primitive need oozes from him as his gaze burns through the slinky material of my too-tight white dress. The way his jaw tenses as he takes me in inch by inch makes me want to be dirty, and the fact that I find myself enjoying the way he's staring at me makes me feel guilty. I force myself to smile, and I take a step toward his desk as I try to calm my thundering pulse.
This man makes me nervous. He looks brutal; he is ruthless, and I know he would kill me without a second thought if it suited him. My eyes skim over his biceps, over the dark ink winding its way around his large muscles. Ezra James drips sex with each movement, every word, and I can feel myself weakening, straying into sin with every second I am around him. I clear my throat and trace my finger over the wooden edge of the desk as I peer up at him through my lashes. I don't say a word. I don't have to. Words are merely foreplay, and at this very moment, I'm already fucking him with my eyes. I need him to believe I want to fuck him like a dirty little whore. And you do want to be a dirty little slut for him. You want to be a sinner for him. He needs to think I would let him wind my hair around his wrist and slam me up against a window while I scream out his name like it’s my last rite.
I slowly move around his desk, the dance of seduction playing from my hips. His eyes are honed in on me like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey. I'll play the pathetic little lamb he wants. I will walk right into his trap and bait him because I love making the hunter the prey. When I come to a halt in front of him, he wets the edge of his lips with his tongue. Bending over, I grip the arms of his leather chair, watching as his eyes challenge me, dare me.
He studies me, an amused smile pulling at his lips. "You really should run away, sweetheart."
The callous tone to his warning should make me stop, but all it does is entice me. "Why?" I whisper as I inch my face toward his. My gaze drops to his mouth then back up to his eyes. I lean in closer, and the heat from his lips radiate against my mouth. "You don't scare me," I breathe, my lips brushing against his. Every last piece of my soul shivers with want and need and fear and evil thoughts.
Suddenly, he grabs my hair, gripping it with such force I feel my scalp lift, the burn eating away at me. "Very. Stupid," he says, breathing across my lips. "There's a fine line, sweetheart, and you just fucking crossed it." He inches closer, grazing his lips across the corner of my mouth, my cheek until they brush my ear." You're in the lion’s den, Evie."
My pulse hammers through my veins. I'm well aware I'm no longer in control here. The devil has you in his claws now, Evelyn because he knows you are a sinner. A fissure of fear coils around me like a snake, and he smiles. "You should have run while you had the chance little lamb." His warm breath against my ear causes chill bumps to race across my skin. His hold on my hair tightens as he rises from his chair and towers over me. There's a beat of silence as his eyes narrow, and then he jerks my head back, tilting my face toward him.
"Do you want me, little killer?" He leans in so close to me I can't breathe. "I don't fuck whores," he says with an air of disgust then pulls away. Although I know he is wicked, I feel shame under his judgment, as though he were righteous.
"I don't want you to fuck me," I say in a breath. "I just want you to hurt me."
Groaning, he releases me before turning away. He watches me, his feet shoulder width apart, his hands clasped at the base of his neck. "Careful, Evie."
"I want you to make me cry," I say, a slight tremble in my voice.
"Fuck!" He turns and charges me, violently fisting my hair again. My head snaps back, and his lips slam over mine.
The kiss is brutal, and it bleeds into me. His teeth nip at my bottom lip, gently at first, but with each second, his bite grows angrier and hard. His teeth rake over my lower lip, and the metallic taste of blood coats my tongue. I can't breathe because he's consuming me. I try to pull away for fear he will completely possess me, but his hold is firm. Ezra grabs at my hips, yanking me against him. When our hips press together, I can feel the hard length of him, and all I can think about is that redhead and how much I want to be her.
He spins me around, places his hand between my shoulder blades, and shoves my face down onto his desk, my cheek meeting the cold wood of his desk with a thud. The weight of his body pushes behind me, his hard cock grinding against my ass while his free hand traces down my thighs. He's in control which means I have none. My pulse skips in panic. He's going to fuck me and kill me and toss my body into the Hudson River. I should be begging for forgiveness before I die, but the only thought in my mind is Ezra ripping my clothes from my body and fucking me before he kills me.
Evelyn, the wages of sin is death. Lust is a sin. Ezra is sin. And I don't want to be his sinner. I'm righteous and holy, and I am not sin, he is! This man is making me want to bury my soul with his in hell. I push against his erection, wanting nothing more than one moment of pressure from him. And as I begin to lose myself, as I begin my dissension into the pits of hell, I try to focus. All I can hear is our intermingled breaths, a chorus of want and need and utter sin. His hand moves to the hem of my dress, and when he yanks the material up cool air hits my exposed skin. My thighs involuntarily squeeze together, my body trying to find some form of relief from this torture he's inflicting on me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. I can feel the sin bleeding through me.
Ezra reaches around, gripping my jaw in his hands, pulling my head back so far I feel my neck is about to snap. And even though I'm terrified, I can't stop pushing myself against him, I can't stop imagining my naked body pinned against his in a dance of sinful desires.
His full weight lays against my back, his lips skimming up the back of my neck until he hisses in my ear. "I can taste your fear, little killer." His teeth graze my skin and then, slowly, his teeth sink into the tender flesh of my neck, harder and harder. I groan at the pain, at the pleasure, at how wrong it is that I like the burn of his teeth tearing into my skin. His tongue swipes over the tender flesh, and he releases me.
"You make me want to break my own rules, to defile you in every way. I want to break you, over and over." His teeth skim my jaw. The heat from his breath sends a sharp shiver trickling down my spine. His fingers snake around my throat, exerting a small amount of pressure and, as though sensing the impending loss of air, my throat constricts. I can no longer tell each heart beat from the next because there is no pause. Ezra is in complete control. Life or death—that is his choice, and right now, in this world only he and I are aware of; he is my god because he alone determines my fate.
"I want to corrupt you, little killer." His grip on my throat tightens slightly, and I grab at his hands, trying to pull them away. He laughs. "I'll make you hate yourself, all the while, loving it. You will beg for your own destruction." His cock presses against me again, and he groans. "I want to destroy you."
I try to swallow, but I can't. I pull at his hands, but my body is becoming numb, and at this moment, when blackness is setting in at the corner of my vision, I long to be freed. Finally, he releases his hold on me, and I gasp. My chest heaves as I drag in breath after brea
th, drinking in the air around me. I push up from the desk, papers crinkling beneath my palms. When I spin around to face him, his eyes set on me, a smirk on his face.
I swallow. "Destroy me then." I stare at him. I can feel my nostrils flaring, and my heart is still in my throat, my skin buzzing with a mixture of adrenaline and fear and guilt and lust. The muscles in my thigh twitch because my body is telling me to flee. I should run away from him and pray for anyone who will ever encounter this man because sin oozes from his every pore.
Ezra is the kind of man I grew up fearing. He is the type of man I have no power with, with whom I will lose all control. He is the epitome of everything that ruined me. God never gives us more than we can handle, Evelyn. This is my test. This man is my chance to find the absolution I need, my chance to be forgiven of my sins. I have no choice but to stay.
Evie. The little killer, the monster hiding behind the face of an angel. I didn't expect to see her again. If she had any sense of self-preservation, she would have stayed away.
She pretends to be innocent, but I see straight through her bullshit. She's a killer, and that fact presents a challenge, a level to which I have never been, and that excites me. Possessing the ability to take a life takes a particular type of person: cold and calculating, unfeeling. And yet, although Evie should be unfeeling, she is scared of me, and her fear calls to me like no other. Make me cry. She's such a broken little doll. She's fucking perfect. I want her. I want to fucking ruin her, and I always get what I want. I skim my fingers over her throat and feel the fear in her thrumming pulse. Her fear is intoxicating.
The taste of her on my tongue, the feel of her soft throat under my hands... I only have so much restraint. I close my eyes and inhale. Images of all the things I'd like to do to her flash through my mind and none of them are good. Some men like rough sex, hell, some like to tie women up, maybe spank them a bit. I like to hurt them, really hurt them. I like to bring them to the point where they believe death is a very real possibility because that brand of fear is the only true fear there is.
She watches me, her chest heaving, her throat marked with my handprint. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed. The perfect combination of arousal and fear is coursing through her. She slides back onto the desk when I step closer to her. I grab her legs, force them open, and press between them. Her head tilts back, and she stares up at me through her long, thick lashes.
"Is that you want, sweetheart?" I caress the side of her throat, brushing the marks left by my fingers. "Destruction?"
Without warning, she grabs the back of my head, her long nails digging into my neck as she pulls me towards her and slams her lips over mine. Her tongue skims my bottom lip as her legs lock around my waist. "I want you to take everything from me," she says against my mouth.
My fingers dig into her thighs, and I yank them apart with such force she has no choice but to release me. I drag her to her feet. A look of confusion passes her face before I grab her waist and I spin her around, making her face the wall behind my desk. My fingers twitch against her skin as I skim my teeth over her shoulder.
"I take little killer. I don't give," I say as I shove her forward. She staggers, slamming into the wall. I take her delicate wrists and yank her arms above her head, pinning her in place. She attempts to turn her head to look at me, and I tighten my hold on her wrists. "Do not look at me," I warn.
She complies and turns to face the wall again. In the ensuing silence, I can hear her rapid breaths. I can feel her heart pumping. "Good. Now, spread your legs," I say, and she hesitates for just a heartbeat. I force my thigh between her legs, pushing them apart as I lean in by her ear. "Never hesitate," I breathe against her neck.
I take both her wrists into one hand, and slowly trail my free hand over her bunched up dress before I squeeze her arse, clad in white lace. So innocent, so fucking sexy.
"Make me cry, Ezra." She rocks back, grinding against my hard cock.
My pulse grows frantic and my jaw clenches. “Careful what you wish for, little killer."
Just the thought of pushing her to the edge of her capabilities makes my cock twitch. I want her to beg me to stop, but I have the feeling she never will. I may very well have to kill her in pursuit of her tears because I will earn them.
I skim my hand over her stomach and tug her lace thong to the side, dragging a finger over her pussy. That slight touch causes her body to tremble. Moaning, she throws her head back and fights against my firm hold. I growl and thrust two fingers inside her wet pussy. She gasps as she clenches around my fingers, pulling me deeper inside her. I pump into her, each time harder than the last, and after just a few strokes, the wetness from her pussy trickles down my fingers. Her back bows and her moans grow frantic. My cock is fucking painful now. I swear if she rubs her arse against me one more time I'm going to fuck her into next week and teach her exactly where the pleasure-pain line is.
Someone bangs on the door to my office, and I groan in frustration, shoving my fingers deeper inside of her. Evie pushes back against me and her pussy clenches around my fingers so damn hard.
The handle to the door jiggles. "Ez?" Jonty shouts before pounding over the wood again.
"Yeah," I say angrily, my fingers still buried deep inside her warmth.
"Zee's here," Jonty says.
"For fucks sake," I say in a growl as I rip my hand away from her. I stick my fingers in my mouth, sucking the taste of her from them. "Why is he here?" I shout.
"Because he's a twat..."
I pull Evie's dress down and yank her away from the wall before I unlock the door. Jonty stands in the doorway, his eyes narrowing on Evie's flushed face.
"Where is he?" I ask, drawing Jonty's attention back to me.
"By the bar. Says he needs to talk to you." He glances back at Evie and smirks.
"I'm not done with you yet, little girl," I whisper in her ear before taking her by the shoulders and shoving her toward Jonty. "Take her out to the bar," I say as I step into the hallway.
On my way down the hall, I adjust the erection threatening to rip through my jeans, and as soon as I set foot in the club, I spot Zee leaned against the bar. Fucker. He glares at me like the prick he is. Jonty walks Evie past me to the bar, and Zee's beady little eyes follow her every move. The way he's looking at her pisses me off. He looks like he's about to come in his fucking trousers.
I grit my teeth when I stop in front of him. "What do you want, Zee?"
He grins. "You know what I want, Ezra."
"My answer hasn't changed, but the second it does, I'll let you know."
His expression remains blank, and he shrugs, his gaze veering back over to Evie. His eyes drag over her body, and I clench my jaw. "Oh," he laughs. "I'm sure I can change your mind."
"Let’s go to my office," I say through clenched teeth. His eyes light up as though I'm about to give him what he wants. I just don't want him near Evie.
Zee follows me up the stairs and takes a seat at my desk. Dave hops up when I shut the door, circling my legs as I make my way across the room to sit down. He steeples his fingers in front of him. "I tell you what, Ezra, you can buy yourself a little more time." He grins, glancing at the TV screens on the wall. "I want that girl." And of course, the screen his finger points at has Evie dead and center. It makes me want to rip his bloody finger from his hand and shove it down his throat.
"Tough."
Zee tilts his head to the side, his dark eyes narrowing. "I'll even pay you for her. Everything is for sale at the right price."
I clench and release my fists over and over, fighting the urge to grab his face and twist his head to the side. The pop his neck would make as it breaks would be like fucking music to my ears.
"Go and buy another girl."
"I bet she's pretty when she cries," he says, arching his eyebrow as a grin twists his lips.
"We're done here. "
"You forget that I own you, Ezra."
I snap, rising from the chair and launching across the table a
t him. I grab him by the throat and yank him halfway across the desk. "No one fucking owns me," I growl. "You forget who I am. I know about you and Moorcroft. I have the evidence. You implicate me, and you incriminate yourself. Ergo, you haven't got shit." I release him, and he falls back into the chair coughing. I take out a cigarette and light it, inhaling the thick smoke, staring at Zee while he glares at me.
"You kill me, and it won't matter what you have," he says. "You'll still go down."
I shrug. "So it appears we are at an impasse. We both go down, or neither of us goes down."
He smirks, tapping his index finger on his bottom lip. "Then nothing has changed. You can't turn me in, and you can't kill me, but I can take your girls Ezra. So, if you sell her to me now, I'll give you a hundred grand, and I'll leave your other girls alone... for now. But if you fight me," he sighs, "I will start picking them off. One by one, until you give her to me."
"Why her?" I glare at him. Evie is pretty, but she's not a hundred grand pretty.
"Because the second I looked at her, you looked like you were about to kill me." He laughs as he shakes his head smugly. "I told you I would take everything from you, Ezra. You don't seem to care about your whores, but maybe you care about your own personal whore. Don't worry, I'm sure she'll think of you when I cut her, and then fuck her while she bleeds out."
I slam my fist over the desk. Still smirking, Zee falls silent.
"Get. Out." I snarl. "Before I snap your fucking neck."
He slowly rises and strolls out of my office as though he has all the time in the world.
I grab the decanter from the side of the desk and take a hefty swig. I can't keep doing this. I wasn't made to bow down, and the very notion is making me irritable, likely to do something stupid. I jog back down the stairs, eager to get Evie the fuck away from here. She's perched on a bar stool with her long legs gracefully crossed, smiling at something Jonty says to her.