Empire of Sin (Empire #2) by Rina Kent

It’s on now, the supply room’s white neon light, and it highlights the dullness of the space. The unorganized piles of papers lying around that should be in the archives.

It also puts focus on the tiny woman standing in the middle of it all, arms crossed and foot tapping on the floor. A red flush covers her cheeks and her lips are pursed in a stiff line.

I know I should probably focus on her obvious displeasure, but my gaze is stolen by the undone third button of her blouse and the hint of her lace bra and creamy breast. I would’ve never pegged her as the lacy type, but she is and it’s a fucking turn-on.

“Do you have anything to tell me?” she asks in a tone as rigid as her posture.

“I love the view.”

She follows my gaze and bunches her hand in her shirt, then jerkily buttons it. “You’re such a pervert.”

“Let me turn off the lights and I’ll show you how much of a pervert I actually am.”

“Like hell you will.” She stomps toward me, the force in her steps rattling her small body. “Didn’t you say you hate liars?”

“I did.”

“Then why are you one yourself?”

“Me?”

“Oh, don’t give me that tone. Gwen told me you accepted Sandra’s case.”

Gwen. Of course. I should’ve known that she’d tell her the news, given that they’ve grown close ever since King’s daughter started interning for Nate. Not that I’m watching Anastasia all the time.

Fine, so I do watch whenever I have the chance, but it’s only to find out what she’s up to.

Nothing more.

“I thought I needed to convince you,” she continues.

“You do.”

“No, I don’t. You already accepted the case.”

“You need to keep convincing me so I don’t drop it.”

“You can’t do that to her.”

“Believe me, I can.” I won’t, but Anastasia doesn’t need to know that.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Glad we agree. Now, are you done?”

“I’m not done.” She’s glaring, and I can feel the heat of it through her thick glasses. “I don’t like liars either.”

“Even when you’re one yourself?”

“I have my reasons.”

“And what makes you think I don’t?”

“What are they then?”

I reach a hand out and grab her by the throat. I don’t do it suddenly, but she startles, her body going still in my hold, and the anger slowly dissipates from her features. “Continuing to touch you, to make you squirm and have that fuck-me look. Or maybe I just want to play with you, maybe it’s to debauch and fuck you up until I get my fill. Maybe it’s all of the above. Do you have a problem with that?”

She’s silent, her lips parting, and I can’t resist the urge to run my thumb over their fullness, feeling her shudder.

“W-what if I do?”

“What if you what? Have a problem with it or don’t like me touching you?”

“Both?”

“Then I’ll stop.”

Her breath stutters and I smile, tightening my hold on her throat. “For now. But I’ll still come back for more. I’ll still find you in every corner and every fucking nook. I will haunt the fuck out of you, Anastasia, until you have no way out but back to me.”

I feel her melting as she leans closer, her lips pulsing against my fingers. The heat of them alone makes my cock rock-fucking-hard.

An inexplicable need I’ve never felt before thunders and roars inside me with a wrecking force.

The need to slam her against the wall and fuck her.

The need to drive so deep inside her, I won’t know where she ends and I begin.

The need to have her so full of me that she’ll struggle to breathe like that first time.

I don’t have such thoughts about the women I fuck. Not even close. They’re always a means to an end, a way to release the pressure and get it over with. It’s been a chore at times, a fucking instinct like breathing and eating.

It’s different with Anastasia.

Because I know, I just know that if I fuck her again, everything will be blown out of proportion. And not only because I rarely fuck the same woman twice or because she’s turning into an unhealthy obsession.

It’s all of that and more.

It’s the way she easily submits to my dominance, how she trembles in my hold, even when she’s bent on defying me.

The way her small body feels so close to mine and how her breathing hitches the moment my fingers dig into the sensitive, easily reddening skin of her throat.

“What if I keep running?” Her voice is low, so low that I barely hear it.

“I’ll keep chasing you.”

“What if I run fast and disappear? What if you can’t find me? Will you give up then?”

“I’m not who you’re running from, beautiful. I won’t slow down and I sure as fuck won’t give up. So if you feel like running, do it. Believe me, I will enjoy every second of hunting you down.”

She licks her lips and her tongue grazes my thumb. “And then what?”

“Then?”

“When you find me, when you catch me and forbid me from running anymore, what are you going to do?”