Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6) by Rina Kent

He’s not the type of person who would start anything before figuring out the entire situation. He’s one of those who knows the ending before hitting Play.

It takes him one second, two…

He stalks towards me, slowly but surely.

“Stop right there, Cole.” I’m so glad my voice doesn’t shake.

“Why? Because you don’t want people to know you have the hots for your stepbrother?”

“I do not.” My words fracture at the end and I hate him.

I hate him so much.

“I have Aiden,” I challenge and then immediately regret it when the green of his eyes darkens to a frightening bottomless colour.

“Fuck him.”

“I-I hate you.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you.”

“You hate me.”

“I still don’t find the reason why that should get in the way.”

“Our parents are married.”

“So what?”

“We’re siblings to everyone!” I cry out, no idea if it’s at myself or him, because the closer he gets, the more I’m frozen in place.

One, I don’t want to run away like a coward, but also, I don’t want to move.

Ever.

He stops a small distance away and stares down at me. “So fucking what?”

My vision blurs as I peek up at him with the last pleading look I can manage. “W-we can’t do this.”

“And yet, you want to.”

“W-what?”

His voice drops. “I can smell your arousal, Butterfly.”

Before I can protest, he flips me over so my cheek and front are glued to the smooth surface of the table. His hand wraps around my nape, caging me in place.

“Cole, we can’t.”

“And yet, we will.” The finality of his words hit me.

We will.

The fact he’s taking it from me gives me some sort of peace.

I didn’t choose this.

I’m not ruining my principles.

He is.

He’s the one destroying every belief I had. It’s all his fault, not mine.

My heart skyrockets as he yanks up the tulle of my dress and bunches it around my waist. Cold air bathes my skin as he pulls down my underwear, letting it pool at my feet.

“Look at your cunt all soaked and ready for me,” he rasps as I hear the sound of his belt.

“It’s not.” I breathe against the wood, forming condensation on it.

“Do you think if you deny it, you’ll get away with wanting it? Is that it, Butterfly?”

Yes. But I won’t say that.

I won’t.

He slaps my arse cheek. Hard. The slap reverberates in the silence of the office and I gasp as the sting registers. But it’s not because of the pain. It’s because of the clenching of my thighs that came with the pain.

What in the actual hell? There’s definitely something wrong with me.

“Your habit of not answering my questions will have to change.” His cock meets my entrance and my hands grip the table.

This is happening.

This is happening.

I close my eyes, trying to think of important things like birth control. Okay, I’m on the pill. Phew.

No. I shouldn’t be happy that I’m on the pill. I should think of why this can’t happen and that I need to stop it.

Nothing comes to mind. Absolute desert.

“Anyone could walk in on us. Did you know that?” he murmurs in a sadistic tone.

My gaze snaps to the door. It’s not locked. Papa or Frederic or one of their friends could come in here to use the phone any second. They’ll see us like this.

Why doesn’t that terrify me as much as it should?

Cole tightens his hand around my nape. “Maybe that will ruin the wedding.”

“No, I don’t want that.”

“Oh, but you do. You’ve been wishing for it for weeks, Butterfly. You’re not as good a girl as you make everyone believe you are.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re fake, but not with me. Never with me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cole.”

“Uh-oh, Miss Prim and Proper is cursing.”

“I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“You know, I was going to wait until they broke up to make you mine, but they made this decision.” He leans over so that he covers my back, then wraps his hand around my hair and fists it tightly. “And I made mine.”

He thrusts into me in one ruthless go.

I cry out, my eyes screwing shut as the pain stabs me.

Oh, God.

It doesn’t matter how wet I am. He’s big and I’m too tight. It hurts.

“Fuck.” He stops before I feel his warm breaths on my skin. “This is your first time?”

“Obviously, dickhead,” I strain, my voice trembling.

“Open your eyes.”

“No.”

“Silver, open your fucking eyes.”

“Just get it over with.”

“Silver,” he warns.

I know he doesn’t use that tone a lot, if ever, so I slowly peel my lids open. My breathing cracks when I find him staring down at me.

If I expected pity, there’s none. Instead, there’s a hint of concern, but most of all, his eyes shine with a possessiveness so tangible, I can taste it on my tongue.