The Villain’s Beloved by Bella J.

4

The door creaked open,and I leaped to my feet as Elijah walked out.

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” He shot me a half-smile, but it didn’t fool me. “Just two friends catching up.”

“You don’t look like a guy who just spent an hour catching up with an old friend.”

Elijah snaked an arm around my waist and turned to face Saint. “Will you be staying a few days?”

“Wish I could. But even though my wife is basking in the lap of luxury at the hotel in Rome, she’d be really pissed off if she knew I was staying on The Empress without her.” He glanced around. “We got married on this yacht, so we have some…” he cleared his throat, “fond memories of our first time together on this beauty.”

“Jesus, Saint.” Elijah rolled his eyes. “We’re all adults here. You can just say that you fucked like rabbits on this yacht.”

“Among other things.” Saint smirked and buttoned his suit jacket, the confidence he exuded bordering on arrogance. With Elijah clutching me against him and Saint staring me down with his crystal blue eyes, it was hard to fucking breathe because their presence alone sucked all the air out of the room.

“Charlotte.” My name rolled off Saint’s lips like honey, yet there was a certain look in his eyes as he pinned my gaze. A warning. A glimpse of caution. “Maybe you and Elijah should join my wife and me for dinner one night. It would be great to get to know you better.”

“Um,” I wiped my palm down my leg, “that sounds great. What do you think, Elijah?”

“I think there are more important matters at hand than a simple social dinner.” His words were clipped, his tone stern.

Saint slipped his hands in his pants pockets, the two men staring at each other as if they could read each other’s minds, making me feel like I was the third wheel here—a voyeur on whatever the fuck was going on between them.

“Come on, Elijah.” Saint held out his arms. “This is Rome. You don’t bring your woman to this beautiful city and not show her around.”

Elijah widened his stance, the lack of amusement painfully evident in his expression. “I’ll consider it.”

“Good. Great,” Saint said and held out his hand toward me. “It was great meeting you, Charlotte. Take care of this guy. God knows, he needs it.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.” I glanced from Saint to Elijah. “Something tells me he can take care of himself just fine.” Of course, he could. The man was a goddamn hitman for the mafia—if anyone could take care of themselves, it was Elijah. But I wasn’t sure how much Saint knew about Elijah’s profession, so I chose not to say too much.

“Elijah.” Saint nodded in his direction. “You and Charlotte are welcome to stay on The Empress for as long as you like.”

“It will only be for a few more days.”

It will?

Saint straightened his jacket. “Don’t underestimate the Bernardis. Make sure it’s safe to travel before you decide to do so.”

Elijah pressed his lips in a thin line, and I could practically feel the tension ripple off him. “You don’t have to worry, my friend. I know how to handle the Bernardis.”

“I’m sure you do.”

For a second, their gazes remained fixed on one another—a stare-off of giants. What the hell was going on?

Saint turned and nodded at James before both of them walked up to the deck. Once they were out of earshot, I shrugged out of Elijah’s hold and turned to face him. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That. You and Saint.”

He pulled a hand through his hair. “I told you. We’re good friends.”

“It sure didn’t look that way.”

“Saint and I have known each other for years. We have a…weird relationship.”

I scoffed. “No shit. For friends, it sure looked like you’d rather beat each other up than shake hands.”

He placed his hands on his sides, sighing as he looked up at the ceiling. “I was just a little on edge because of Saint’s unplanned visit.”

“Why, though?” I frowned. “It’s his yacht.”

“And this is your life on the line. I told you, we can’t afford to take any risks. And him coming here is a risk.”

“Why is it a risk?”

He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me closer, almost lifting me on my toes. “Everything that’s not part of my plan to protect you is a risk. Our first mistake will be underestimating the Bernardi family and their fucking desperation to get to you. I will not take any chances, Charlotte.” He brought his face inches from mine, his breath warm and eyes burning. “Not with you.”

His grip tightened around my arms, and I could feel the blood rushing to my skin, my heart pounding against my chest as Elijah’s expression darkened. “Don’t you get it? You are my number one priority.”

“Because of a debt.” The words slipped from my mouth, and I hated how insecure it sounded. But I couldn’t stop myself. “That’s what I am, right? A debt. That’s the reason you’re so desperate to protect me.”

He let go of my shoulders, stepping back, eyes leveling me with a gaze so dark I felt its chill inside my veins. “Is that what this is? You’re insecure and trying to get some kind of affirmation from me. For what?” He shifted closer. “To get some sort of commitment? To feel wanted? To know that you’re no longer my captive?”

I saw the challenge in his eyes. The malice. In that study with Saint, whatever went down had him riled up, and now I was on the receiving end.

Putting one foot in front of the other, I took a step that brought our bodies a breath apart, my neck craned back so I could look him in the eye. “Maybe I want affirmation that the man I share a bed with sees me as more than just a debt. Maybe I want to know that the man I allow to fuck me every goddamn night isn’t just using me as a pastime while we’re stuck on this yacht.”

The expression on his face turned to stone, and as he moved forward, I had no choice but to step back. “You allow me to fuck you?”

“You know what I—”

“Is that what you’ve been doing every time I slipped my cock into your cunt? You allowed me to fuck you?”

My heart started to beat incredibly fast. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You spread those thighs of yours, your pussy dripping while you pant for me to fuck you—yet now you say you allow me to be inside you?”

“Elijah—”

“There’s a difference between allowing something and wanting it, Charlotte.” My back hit the wall, and he cocooned me. “A huge motherfucking difference.”

“I know that.”

“No. I don’t think you do.” He leaned his head to the side as he dragged a finger down my cheek, his predator gaze studying me as if he couldn’t decide where to start tearing me apart. “Should I show you? Teach you the difference?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.”

His fingers bit into my jaw as he forced my head to the side, causing me to flinch as he leaned in, lips touching my ear. “I think I should show you the difference by fucking you as my captive rather than my guest.”

“Elijah—” His arms roped around my waist and lifted me over his shoulder. “Elijah, what are you doing?”

“Exactly what I said. I’m going to show you how a psychopath fucks his captive.”

He carried me into my room, slamming the door closed behind us with his foot.

“Elijah, don’t.”

“Now would be a good time for you to close that mouth of yours.” He dropped me on the bed, but before I had a chance to move, his fingers tore through his shirt, buttons bouncing on the floor around us. “Unless you want to taste my cock on your tongue.”

Somewhere really far back in my mind, I knew his words were meant to intimidate, to scare me into submission. But this twisted side in me loved every dirty word he spoke. And the sight of him, his firm abs, and the delicate music notes inked onto his skin—it took my breath away. It did every time we were together, and all I wanted to do was trace my fingertips around his chest, feeling his velvet skin against my palm as I laid it over his heart. Even now, while he towered over me like a threatening storm, I still wanted him. My body still craved him. My thighs were already burning with the anticipation of feeling him between my legs—feel him move as he pumped in and out of me. But there was something different in his eyes tonight—as if a starved beast was looking down at me, bloodlust oozing from his gaze.

He stepped up, cupping my chin in his palm as he forced me to look up at him. His touch was tender, his finger gently brushing across my bottom lip. It was a moment that warmed my heart…until he wrapped his fingers around my throat, tightening. I clasped both hands around his wrist, gasping for air. “Elijah…”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Charlotte. The kind of beauty men like me would kill to protect and keep.” He forced me to my feet, still squeezing the air from my lungs. “But insecurities can spoil that beauty. Turn it rancid.” He pulled me closer, his lips brushing against mine, causing me to crave his taste. “It’s pathetic. Unbecoming.”

My cheeks burned as embarrassment rushed to the surface. Finally, his grip loosened enough for me to be able to speak. “Under normal circumstances, any woman needs security when it comes to a man. And, given how fucked up our situation is, I think me having some insecurities is understandable.”

“Don’t fool yourself, my little cellist. It’s the fucked-up part in our situation that you crave the most.”

“You don’t know me.”

He leaned forward, and I closed my eyes as he dragged his tongue up the side of my face. Warm. Wet. Wicked. “I told you this before. No one knows you as well as I do. And after our few weeks together, I know you…inside…and out.”

“So you think.”

A grin settled on his face, his lips glistening. “On your knees.”

“Excuse me?”

His hand enclosed around my throat, choking me, allowing me no air to breathe. “On your. Fucking knees.”

With my palms around his wrist, Elijah forced me to the ground. It was there in his face when I glanced up at him in panic. The darkness. The wicked intent. His need to dominate absolute.

The wooden floors were hard beneath my knees, my lungs burning and body screaming to take a breath. Sweat beaded down my back, and pressure throbbed behind my eyes.

“I’m going to loosen my grip now. If you scramble away, try to run, I will tie you down and fuck your mouth so hard you’ll gag and choke while I shoot my cum down your fucking throat. Understood?”

There it was. The heat. The need. The undeniable desire to be owned. It consumed me, burned inside my belly while my pussy ached. It was sick and twisted—a black hole that fed on the depravity that pulsed between Elijah and me. I hated it. But I loved it. I despised it yet craved it like my next breath.

The moment his hand left my throat, I gasped for air, the oxygen burning my lungs. I touched my neck, the sting of his grip still lingering on my skin. “Why are you hurting me?”

“Isn’t that what a psychopath does to his captive? Hurt her. Use her. Fuck her.”

The sound of him unbuckling his belt caused me to quiver, not knowing what to expect from him. Not while he was like this—consumed. Possessed. Unpredictable.

Exhilarating.

Like a prowling predator, he moved in behind me, taking both my hands in his. I gasped when I felt the bite of leather on my skin as he fastened his belt around my wrists. My instinct to fight fused with adrenaline, but there was something more potent that burned in my belly—something wicked and tainted. Something that had me wanting everything he had to offer. Thrilling pain and aching pleasure.

Dark eyes gazed down at me as he stepped back in front of me and unzipped his pants, licking his lips as he slipped his hands inside, pulling out his cock. It was impossibly hard, his fingers wrapping around the thick girth, and all I could think about was how it felt to have him inside me—how exquisite it was to feel him move in and out of me while my pussy was slick with need.

He pumped his length once, stroking across the tip of his cock. A part of me feared the man in front of me, yet another part lusted for him. Admired him while I knelt on the floor, forced to look up at him, his naked body contoured and defined to perfection.

“There is something about a woman on her knees that just seems so fucking right.”

He grabbed my hair, yanked my head back and brought his cock an inch from my mouth. I could smell sex on him, the exhilarating anticipation of fucking and savagery. Every thought inside my head tried to convince me that I should hate this. That I should be appalled by the unforgiving way he treated me. But I didn’t. It was quite the opposite—my body humming with adrenaline and lust, my senses heightened as I craved more.

“I’m not your captive.” I tried to sound horrified, scared when, in fact, I was exhilarated. As much as he wanted to hunt, I wanted to be hunted. I wanted to be the prey…his prey.

His lips curved in a wicked grin as if he knew. He thrust his hip, the tip of his cock brushing against my lips. Fire erupted in my belly, my body electrified with the energy that crackled between us.

“Lick it.”

I didn’t move.

Playing.

He yanked my hair, causing my scalp to burn. “I said lick my motherfucking cock.”

I wanted to defy him, keep on fighting him until the beast broke free, but I craved his taste too much. While I looked up at him, meeting his dark gaze with my own, I opened my mouth. He bit his lower lip when my tongue touched the tip of his dick, licking leisurely circles around it. The naïve little masochist that I was tried to savor it, tried to play with the beast. But I should have known better. I should have known that my sexual prowess was no match for his mastery.

With a snarl, he thrust his hips and plunged his cock into my mouth, forcing me to take every inch of him, giving me no time to open my throat or hollow my cheeks to accommodate him. I gagged, but he only tightened his grip in my hair more—pushing deeper, harder, mercilessly pumping his length in and out of my mouth.

My eyes teared up, and spit dripped down my chin as I struggled to take him. His taste exploded on my tongue and consumed my tastebuds, and a half-cry, half-moan slipped up the back of my throat.

“See, now that’s what a captive’s face is supposed to look like when her mouth is stuffed with cock.” He wiped at a tear with his thumb before placing it in his mouth. “Tasting a person’s tears is as close as you’ll come to consuming their soul.”

The words ‘fuck you’ got lodged in my throat as he pushed my head forward, flexing his hips, filling my mouth with his length. I gagged again, and this time my back arched with the reflex.

“You need to slack your jaw, princess. Or you’ll be choking on your vomit instead of my dick.”

While I tried to open my mouth wide enough, slipping my tongue around the ridges of his girth, my thighs trembled as my pussy throbbed.

“God, your mouth is like velvet around my dick. But as good as it feels, it doesn’t come close to having your pussy clench my cock.”

I moaned, and he grabbed the base of his length, pumping it in his palm as he fucked my mouth. It was a vile act of dominance, the way he forced and controlled me. But there was no denying how fiercely my body burned for it. How it hungered for more.

More pain. More dominance. More of Elijah’s wicked kink and sordid lust.

“You want security, do you, my little cellist?”

I glanced up at him, barely able to breathe as I sucked him between my lips, my panties wet and slick with jaded lust.

“You want me to mark you as mine?”

Yes. Yes, I did. I wanted to be his. I wanted to know that even when his debt was repaid, he’d still want me. He’d still own me. I never wanted another man’s touch ever again. Only his. Always, only his.

I nodded and licked around his swollen length when he pulled at my hair, yanking my head back. His cock slipped from my mouth with a pop, and he groaned as he sucked air through his teeth, shooting his cum on my face, the warm liquid sticking to my cheek and chin.

It was degrading. Humiliating. But he did what I wanted him to do. He marked me, and by doing so, he made me feel more alive than I ever had. My body, my mind, my soul, everything was set alight by this man, even if everything about him, about us, was distorted and twisted. Deep inside, if I had to be honest with myself…

I wouldn’t want it any other way.