Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

Okay, maybe my neck, too, but it’s my core that’s throbbing for more.

As if knowing exactly what that does to me, he flicks his tongue across the same spot and bites down.

Oh, fuck.

I jam my legs shut, afraid that he’ll see how desperate I am for this. How much I need it before I disappear.

It’s my “fuck you” to the people who intended to use this part of me to marry me off to the first influential man who comes knocking on our door.

He continues his assault on my throat and his hand skims to my back, my bare back. His skin is similar to fire. A scorching one and he’s about to melt me with it, maybe scathe me, maybe drag me to the pits of hell.

“W-what about you?” I ask, assuming that’s what’s expected in these types of conversations.

Though this can hardly be called a conversation now that his fingers are toying with my butterfly pendant and my flesh at the same time.

“Twenty-eight.”

A shudder zips down my spine and it has less to do with his age and more to do with his touch and his voice. Seriously, no voice should be as sinfully attractive as his.

It’s like the devil’s—whispering and lulling me to my damnation.

“What’s your name?” His hot breaths against my throat and his possessive hold on my back send sparks through my whole body.

I’m tingling, throbbing, and aching for something I’ve never experienced.

Something I never thought was possible in my life.

“No…names,” I manage to say in an airy voice I didn’t think I was capable of.

“Why?” He bites down on a spot on my neck and it’s hard enough that I wince. It’s hard enough that I’m clenching my soaked thighs.

“Because anonymity is thrilling.”

I expect him to argue, to demand that he know my name, and I have a fake one for that, just in case, but he does something entirely different.

Something that makes my toes curl and my heart hammer.

He laughs, the sound low and sinister and so damn delicious against my neck. When he pulls back, his intense eyes have darkened. They’re amused now. Or maybe it’s sadism that I’m staring at.

Usually, I can’t maintain eye contact for more than a second, but I’m trapped in his.

I can’t look away.

I won’t.

Because there are words and phrases in that gaze. A book, maybe, and while I’m not able to delve into all of its pages and decrypt its code, I can at least try.

Trying is the first phase of anything.

But I can’t figure out the reason behind his reaction, so I ask, “Why are you laughing?”

“Because I just made a decision, beautiful.”

“Which is?”

“I’m going to fuck you.”


End