Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3)

by Veronica Lancet

"Hmm," he starts, and he lowers his face so that there's barely any distance between us. "A knife through the heart?"

  I can't help it as I throw back my head and laugh. How appropriate.

  I might take you on your offer. Soon.

  But for now, I'm going to take advantage of this interaction.

  Come on Enzo, kill my heart so I can kill yours.

  "Exactly," I exclaim, "imagine how he'd feel if I engaged in the same... affairs." I throw the idea to him, wanting to see his reaction.

  "Not too well. I know I wouldn't. If I had someone like you," he whispers, his hand still making love to mine, "I'd hold on so tight I'd never let go."

  "Is that so," I ask on a breathy tone, raising my head to taunt him with my lips close to his cheek, and then to his lips. "Then maybe I should do just that. Give him a taste of his own medicine."

  The hand on my back tightens, bringing me flush against him — so close I can feel his growing arousal.

  "Really?" he drawls, his voice sending shivers down my back. There's a sudden tension in the way he holds on to me, and for a second I worry he might break me.

  "Tell me, sir," I say in my most innocent voice, "would you fuck me so I can get back to my husband?"

  "Is that what you want, gorgeous? To be fucked by a stranger just to get your revenge?"

  "Oh," I giggle lightly, "it's just the start of the revenge. But it will do quite nicely."

  Still holding on to me, he leads me out the ballroom and into the garden. For all the buzz inside, there's barely any people outside.

  He backs me into a dark corner until my back hits against the wall of the house.

  Is this going to help? If I know for sure he'll just fuck any woman?

  Yes, it will. My hand won't tremble on the trigger when I do aim for his heart.

  "Little lamb, little lamb, out with the wolves," he says, his lips brushing against mine but not quite.

  "Kneel," he commands, and I frown, looking questioningly at him.

  "Kneel. You wanted to be fucked by a stranger, and you will. But we do it my way."

  He pushes my shoulders until I find myself on my knees in front of him, peering at him from below.

  His hand cups my jaw, his finger stroking along my jawline.

  "You want to play in the dark, little lamb, don't you?" He asks, his words not making much sense.

  His hands leave my face as he undoes his pants, taking his hard cock out and stroking it in front of me.

  God, am I really doing this?

  I scramble back, suddenly disgusted with myself for even contemplating this madness, never mind letting it get this far.

  But his hand is back on my chin, forcing me to look at him.

  "Aw, giving up already?" he mocks me, but the tone he's using does the opposite — it makes me want to prove him wrong.

  I snatch my face out of his hands, and I move on my knees until I'm on eye level with his cock.

  We've never done this before.

  He's never let me give him a blowjob before, and not for lack of trying. He'd always distract me by going down on me or just fucking my brains out.

  The fact that he's doing it with another woman only makes the chasm in my chest to fissure even further.

  Taking his cock in my hand, I dip my head, brushing my lips against him, my tongue stroking the underside.

  He hisses, pushing away at my hair.

  "Yes, little lamb, suck that cock real nice," he groans when I open my mouth to take more of him inside.

  But this is oh, very wrong, because not only is his dick in my mouth, almost hitting the back of my throat, but I also feel myself growing wet when I should be anything but.

  Using my hands, I stroke him up and down as I suck on the head, my lips wrapping around his girth, my tongue lapping at him.

  "Fuck!" He curses out, and his hand goes to the back of my head, pushing me towards him until his cock makes me gag.

  "I'm going to come, little lamb, and I want you to swallow up every last drop. Think you can do that for me?" He asks, his thumb stroking my cheek affectionately.

  I nod, and before I know it spurts of his cum shoot up in my mouth. I swallow it all down and I find him staring at me, still tenderly massaging my cheek.

  "Fuck if you're not every man's wet dream," he groans and his words are like a cold shower, dispelling the spell I found myself under and waking me up to the sobering reality—he's being more gentle to a stranger than he's ever been with me.

  His cock still pulsating in my mouth, a sudden thought enters my mind.

  I should bite it down. Make sure he'll never stick it in anyone else.

  Looking up seductively at him through my lashes, I take advantage of his post-orgasmic haze to wrap my mouth around the shaft and take him deeper in my mouth before clamping down with my teeth on his length.

  Take that you adulterous son of a bitch!

  He jerks in pain and I feel a trickle of blood on my tongue. Before I can do more damage, he's out of my mouth and holding me by the throat, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dark.

  Did I go too far?

  "A little blood thirsty, aren't we?" He raises an eyebrow at me.

  I struggle against his hold, but I only manage to take one step before I find myself backed against the wall. Enzo is at my back, his hand traveling up my thigh and reaching for my underwear.

  "Was that your plan all along, little savage? Have me at your mercy so you can make me bleed?" His breath is hot on my neck as he rips my panties with one tug.

  Damn it! I forgot how dangerous he can be.

  "This is why you wore this flimsy dress, isn't it? Cock bait aren't you?" He asks, his voice ragged as he drags his fingers through my drenched folds.

  "Fucking hell, you're soaked," I feel him at my back, pushing his body into me, his bloodied cock right between my ass cheeks.

  "Let me go," I tell him, sending my elbow into his gut.

  "Didn't you come to get fucked? I don't do things by half, little lamb, and it seems you've been a very naughty girl. Playing with me like this... Was it fun?" He asks, one finger settling on my clit.

  A whimper escapes me at the sensation.

  "Your body's asking to get fucked at this point. Your pussy's begging for my cock, isn't it?" he continues, his finger still playing with my clit.

  "You want my bloody cock to fill you up, don't you little savage? Feel how my blood and cum mix in your dripping cunt," his movements on my clit speed up and I almost lose it. But even so I know I can't allow this, so I try to move aside — anything to escape his hold.

  His hands tighten over my waist, his body lined up with mine against the wall. Then his cock is nudging at my entrance, the head barely making it inside before I'm already convulsing, my walls closing in on him.

  One thrust and he's all the way inside, stretching me and filling me at the same time. I feel the stickiness of the blood coupled with my juices as he starts moving in and out.

  "Maybe this isn't punishment enough for you," he says his teeth scraping the skin right below the ear. "Maybe I should take your ass next." I gasp at his words and I start struggling. But I can't do anything as he holds me even tighter, his hips pistoning in and out of me with more aggression.

  God, I should hate this... I really should.

  But my starved body is meeting each of his thrusts, absorbing every bit of pleasure he can give me. My soul, on the other hand, just becomes bleaker.

  Are you satisfied now, Allegra? You have all the proof you need that your husband is a disgusting bastard — and a cheater.

  Admitting to myself that I'm a pathetic mess that is in way over her head, I stop struggling.

  I just let him fuck me, feeling every stroke of his cock and the way he holds me flush to his chest, as his hips move against me, his dick sliding in and out.

  When he finally finds his release on a ragged moan, I take advantage of his lowered guard to push him off, righting my skirt and fleeing from his presence.

>   "Run little lamb, run," his mocking voice follows me as I turn the corner and make my way into the house again. I can feel the mix of blood and cum slowly leaking out of me and I find a secluded corner to clean myself up.

  I just got irrefutable proof that my husband is a fucking degenerate.

  I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

  I won't cry. Not anymore.

  Instead, I steel myself against any emotion. And by some unknown luck, as I head back to the party, I catch a glimpse of my mother.

  And she's also making my job easier as she goes towards the restroom. I guess now I don't need to try to get her alone now.

  I follow behind, my steps bringing me closer to my goal of the night. She enters the restroom, and I catch the door, locking it behind me.

  She's in a stall doing her business, so I prop myself against the counter, staring into the mirror — into the foreign eyes looking back at me.

  The door of the stall opens with a click and she comes to the sink to wash her hands. I watch from the corner of my eyes as she seems so unbothered, so blasé while her child's been wrestling between life and death for the last few years.

  How is she a mother?

  She makes to leave and I finally speak.

  "You didn't recognize me, mamma?" I imitate Chiara's high pitched voice.

  "Oh dear God, you scared me." She turns around, assessing me. She narrows her eyes at me before breaking into a smile. "Now that is a costume. I couldn't tell it was you at all," she comes over, her hand moving over my face affectionately.

  She's never once touched me so tenderly before.

  I'm motionless as I watch her display such care for the first time. She's still oblivious to my identity, her fingers moving around my body as she tries to right my clothes.

  Like a mother should.

  "Who did you sleep with now?" she asks, her eyes trailing down my legs where the grass is still imprinted on my knees. "I told you to tone it down. We don't want people to doubt Luca's paternity when we finally get rid of Enzo," she says, her voice mildly chastising, but mostly full of doting indulgence.

  "I was thinking about my sister tonight," I veer the subject into uncomfortable territory, needing to see her reaction. Her features change immediately and her previous loving smile is now full of malice.

  "Don't!" Her tone is sharp. "Remember, you never had a sister to begin with," she continues, her twisted words paining me even more.

  "Maybe she didn't have to die," I continue to probe, wanting her ugliness to come out.

  "Chiara!" She exclaims, taking a step back, her expression outraged. "What's gotten into you? She was never part of the family! She was just someone we could use and discard. Let that sink in your head. She was a means to an end." She laughs. "It certainly gave us all this," she waves her hand around.

  "Sorry, mamma, I'm a little introspective tonight. We're identical twins... I was thinking it could have easily been me who was the outcast and she your beloved child."

  Her hands grab at my shoulders and her gaze meets mine. I see determination and an unwavering conviction.

  "Don't, dear. She could have never taken your place. I knew from the moment you both came into the world that my heart could only love one child. You were so precious..." She sighs, "you took to me immediately, hugging me and offering your unconditional love. Your sister," her nostrils turn up, her eyes narrowing, "besides the fact that she almost caused me to bleed out, she also had the audacity to cry whenever I tried to touch her. She hated me from the first. My nonna had warned me that she was bad luck, and I started seeing just how bad she was."

  "You're everything a parent could have wanted, my darling Chiara," she takes me into her arms, giving me my first ever parental hug.

  I'm uncharacteristically uncaring as I realize the thing I'd longed the most was nothing but an illusion. Why did I ever crave the affection of this woman? I look down at her and I almost feel ashamed that I would have done anything to gain her approval — including give myself as a sacrificial lamb to Franzè.

  At least now I'll have a clean conscience.

  "Thank you, mamma," I say, letting her have one moment to soak this interaction before bursting her bubble.

  She turns to the mirror to arrange her hair, all the while talking about some fashion nonsense. Moving behind her, my hands are already gloved and my little pouch has all the tools I need to make this an unforgettable experience.

  Fitting my hand to the back of her head, I simply apply enough pressure so that one second she's sitting upright and staring in the mirror, the next her face makes contact with the edge of the counter.

  The music is loud and blasting throughout the house. But even so the noise of bone against marble makes a resounding thud.

  "What..." she stammers.

  "Oh, mother dear, but I forgot to tell you one detail. I'm not Chiara," I whisper in her hair, and I watch the mirror for the change in her expression — self-assuredness turning into fear.

  "You can't... you're dead," she keeps repeating, her eyes wild.

  "I feel very much alive," I say with a shrug, proving my point by banging her head against the marble again.

  "How... how could you..." her voice is already broken and filled with pain. I know all too well because I, too, had my face smashed against a hard surface. "I'm your mother!" She yells.

  "My mother?" I snort, my fingers tightening in her hair. "The title of mother isn't by birth only," I snicker at her, a violent storm brewing inside of me, "it has to be earned. What did you ever do for me to call you mother? Sell me? Kill me?"

  She whimpers, her hands moving wildly by her side, trying to grasp on to me.

  Changing tactics, I drag her to one of the stalls, still holding her by the hair. Her face is bleeding slightly, but this is just the beginning.

  Pushing her head deep in the toilet bowl, I revel in the sounds of choking, lifting her only to see the terrified expression on her face.

  "Thank you for clarifying what I always wanted to know," I add, kicking her in the ribs as she starts to move around. "But it's still not enough. How do you think a child feels when the people who should have loved her the most ended up hating her the most? Have you ever spared me a thought? No, I see on your face that you have not. You just despised me so much you immediately signed off on my death. For what? Money? Fame? To give the limelight to Chiara?"

  I submerge her in the water until bubbles are erupting on the surface, her heaving telling me she's already suffocating.

  Grabbing her by the nape, I prop her against the wall, studying her.

  "You... you're a monster," she yells at me, pure terror in her gaze.

  "Come now, don't be a hypocrite!" I roll my eyes at her. "You can't create the monster and then complain when it's set loose."

  Removing a small knife from my pouch, I drag it across her face.

  "Do you even know what your darling daughter did to me?" I ask and she gulps down, swallowing hard. "She disfigured me. Can you imagine what it feels like to have the flesh off your face dangling around, the pain so astounding you can barely move?"

  My words wake her up, and she starts struggling again. One hand gripping her throat, I hold the knife tightly with the other and I carefully slice a contour all around the face. She screeches in pain; her legs kicking under me.

  Applying more pressure, I continue to cut under the skin, taking off flaps of flesh and detaching them from muscle. Her expression is stuck on a perpetual scream, her mouth jammed in the shape of an o.

  She must have passed out from the pain.

  Feeling the shallow pulse with my hand, I return to cutting at the flesh until the entire skin is separated from the face.

  Mutilated like this, she almost looks human. I'm not even disgusted as I take in the redness of her muscle and flesh, the blood slowly pooling down her face.

  The ugliness inside is now the ugliness outside.

  Taking the flimsy flesh, I place it in her right hand. Then I wra
p her other hand around the blade, slowly bringing it up to her throat. Squeezing her fingers on the knife, I jab the sharp point in her skin. Trickles of blood start slowly pouring out of the wound.

  I take a step back, wanting to avoid the spurts of blood once the pressure on the wound wears down.

  "Another one down," I mutter to myself, taking a moment to enjoy my revenge.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  FOLDING MY ARMS ACROSS my chest, I watch as they carry Cristina on a stretcher and out of the restroom.

  How many more people have to die under my roof?

  I'd seen her before the cleaners had gotten to the site, and for all the gore of the scene, I couldn't muster any pity for her.

  Allegra, Allegra, what am I going to do with you?

  I'd been growing suspicious for a while now, and the moment I'd caught her with Luca, sporting such a carefree expression — so unlike Chiara — I'd known something was amiss. I'd tried to push her to see how far she'd take the ruse, but she'd kept her head high and had barely wavered in her act.

  My suspicions had been confirmed later at the hospital when I'd seen the way her heart reacted to my declarations. While everything I'd said had been true, I'd also chosen my words carefully to elicit a response from her.

  I'd taken Lia aside a few days later and managed to get the truth out of her. Allegra was awake and well — but also bent on revenge. And I was one of her targets. She'd also informed me of her plans for the ball, so I'd gone along with her act.

  If she wants her revenge, then she's going to have it. I said I'd do anything for her and if that's what she desires most, then it's going to be hers.

  To say I'm heartbroken, though, is an understatement. Holding her in my arms and seeing the disdain in her eyes, the way she talked about her philandering husband had me doubting everything I'd done up to this point.

  Did I make the right decision?

  But when she'd started talking about fucking another man I'd simply snapped. I wanted to leave my mark on her in such a way that she'd never consider letting another touch her.

  Damn it!

  I fucked up because I couldn't keep my hands off her. Five years and never once did I feel the urge before, but one minute with my hands on her skin, my cock in her mouth and I'd exploded — animalistic primitivism and adoring obsession filling me with a need to make her mine again.