The Villain’s Beloved by Bella J.
5
The twisted sonof a bitch in me had always fantasized of seeing her on her knees, vulnerable and entirely at my mercy. I’d wanted to play this little game with her ever since I dragged my finger through her slick pussy for the first time. But I wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle it. There was a fine line between a man’s hunger for carnal lust with a woman he cared for and a serpent’s appetite for fucked up fuckery with every pussy he can get his dirty hands on. I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to distinguish between the two when it came to me. Knowing what I felt for her, believing it while I opened the gates of my depraved desires.
And, Jesus Christ, did she exceed all my expectations. I took a huge motherfucking risk by playing this game—but she played it just as hard, and I fucking loved it.
I let go of my cock, now limp and wet from her spit. I touched her chin, wiping my cum along her lower lip with my thumb. “How do I taste?”
Her eyes were red, but her irises bright with ecstasy as she licked her lips, tasting me on her tongue. “Good,” she whispered, her hair a tangled mess around her face.
I helped her to her feet, her hands still tied behind her back. I took the hem of her shirt between my fingers and lifted it, wiping her face clean of my cum. I’d be the world’s biggest fucking liar if I said I didn’t like seeing my jizz staining her pretty face.
Her cheeks had a healthy pink glow, her lips glistening with temptation. Her body was quivering, and I could smell her arousal, sense her need to come. And even though I still felt the aftermath of my orgasm lingering in my balls, I was far from done with her.
The fabric of her shirt required no effort to be torn down the middle, exposing the flawless skin of her stomach and enticing swell of her breasts.
The torn material pooled around her feet, and I swirled a fingertip around her pebbled nipple. “God, I love your tits.”
Her eyes closed as I squeezed her breast.
“On the bed. And on your knees.”
“But my hands.”
“What about them?”
“They’re still tied.”
I grabbed her elbow and turned her around, pulling her naked back against my bare chest, snaking my hands down her front, slipping inside her shorts, helping her shimmy out of them. The second I dragged a finger through her slit, I groaned in appreciation of how fucking wet she was, her pussy weeping for my dick. “I know your hands are tied,” I whispered with my lips against her ear, slowly easing her forward toward the bed. “And that’s why your pretty face will just have to be firmly planted on those silk sheets.”
The most beautiful yelp crossed her lips as I pushed her, forcing her down on the bed. I grabbed her ankles and forced her to lean on her knees, her cheek flush against the crisp navy-blue linen. I took a step back, admiring the view of her ass in the air, pussy lips spread, and hands tied. The perfect fucking picture of submission—a woman, surrendering her body to a man. If only she knew how goddamn beautiful she was. The potent perfection that radiated from her every minute of every day.
“You have no idea how perfect you are, do you?”
“Every woman has her insecurities.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have any.” I placed my palm on her ass, gently easing it down her thigh. “It’s ironic how every time you hold that bow, leaning the cello against your heart, you strive to find perfection—yet you are perfection, Charlotte.” I eased a finger through her wet folds, her moan a fucking melody to my ears. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to find perfection when it’s been staring back at you for so fucking long.”
“I’m not perfect.” Her lips brushed against the silk sheets. “Especially when I’m with you.”
I stilled. “What does that mean?”
“It means that when I’m with you like this, my body, my thoughts all delve into this dark place.” She closed her eyes, taking a visibly deep breath. “And I like it. I like being in the dark with you, Elijah. I love how my body feels when I submit to you. How my skin burns when your touch hurts. How my lust ignites when your words are harsh.”
Sure as fuck, her words slammed right in my chest and crashed against my balls, turning my dick to fucking stone. “So, how does that not make you perfect?”
“Because…because how can I be good, perfect, when I crave to be fucked by a man who kidnapped me, held me against my will? How can I be perfect when…” her throat bobbed as she swallowed, “when I’m in love with a man who kills people as easily as taking his next breath?”
And that was the moment my entire goddamn world changed. Her words, her confession of love, it was instantly engraved in my soul, my heart becoming too big for my fucking chest.
“You’re in love with me.” It wasn’t a question. It was more like that pinch one needed to make sure you weren’t dreaming. I knew I had been in love with her since the first moment I heard her play the cello, but I never thought of the day she’d say those words, feel the same way about me as I did about her.
“I am,” she whispered, a silent tear lapping from her cheek onto the sheets.
I licked my lips, and suddenly having her tied up in this exact moment felt wrong—so I grabbed my belt, ready to untie her, but she jerked away.
“Don’t. Whatever you planned on doing…I want you to do it. I need you to do it.”
It was there in her voice, her desperation, her plea to play. To do wicked things while we danced in the darkness. Jesus Christ—there was no doubt just how obsessed I was with this woman. Not after this.
“Okay.” I moved my hand from her wrists, down her side to cup her breast as I got onto my knees next to her, the mattress dipping under my weight. “But I think you need to hear me say one thing before we continue.”
She bit her bottom lip, her hands tugging against the leather.
I tasted her skin as I traced my tongue along the curve of her back, placing a kiss on her naked shoulder and leaning down, so my lips touched her ear. “I’m in love with you, Charlotte Moore.” She sucked in a breath. “I’ve been obsessed with you since that first time I heard you play.” Her body squirmed, a subtle moan wafting from her lips. “You have possessed my every thought, every dream, every filthy fantasy for so fucking long. This right here, you like this, us…this is what I want. What I crave. What I need. And now that I have this—have you, I think it’s only fair you should know that…” I licked around the shell of her ear, her body shuddering and skin hot, “there is no chance in hell I’m ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand the magnitude of that? Of what I just said?”
She nodded, and I moved back, brushing my hand around her thigh to touch her sweet, needy little cunt.
“See,” I slipped a finger inside her, and she pushed her greedy hips back, “I don’t think you do. I don’t think you understand just how fucking serious I am when I say I’m never letting you go.” The sound of her arousal sucking my finger into her pussy made my balls tight and my dick hard. My thumb found her clit, and her knees quivered. “Not even if you ask me. You can beg, you can plead, you can scream, and fucking cry—not even your tears will have the power to convince me to let you go.” I drew my finger out of her and spread her arousal up between her ass cheeks, applying the slightest amount of pressure at her tight little hole. She gasped, and her entire body went rigid, a telltale sign that no man has ever touched her there before.
Good. In time, it would be mine. But not today.
I positioned myself behind her and could see the trail of goosebumps on her skin, kissed with a glistening sheen of sweat and heat. The tip of my cock touched her swollen cunt, her body so hyperaware of every single touch it trembled before me, her hips leaning back in an attempt to take me, to have me fill her so she could shatter with the release she so desperately needed.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Charlotte?” I held my dick and brushed it along her ass, painting her skin with my precum, teasing the fuck out of her. “There is only one thing that could ever take you away from me.” I steadied myself at her entrance. “One thing that not even I can escape. Death.” The sheets ruffled beneath my knees as I plunged into her—deep, hard, impaling her body and owning her pussy with one hard thrust. Her moans slammed against the ceiling, crashing against the walls around us, her shoulders forced against the mattress. The heat of her greedy pussy wrapped around my cock, clamping down, allowing me to feel her inner walls and the slick friction of euphoria I could only find between her legs.
“You hear that? The only way you can get rid of me is if death comes for one of us.” I reared back and speared back into her, hitting the deepest part of her. “Other than that, you’re mine, and I’ll slit the throat of any person who dares to take you away from me.” Saying it, envisioning it, thinking about the blood of my victims coating my hands, crusting around my fingernails—all for the name of love, the love I had for my cellist—it made my dick throb and balls ache, lust scraping at my spine with its wicked intentions. “You know,” I reached around her hip, arching my back as I found her clit. “A part of me wished someone would just look at you funny, so I have half a reason to slice him open from nose to navel, reach inside his chest and squeeze the last bit of life from his rotten heart. Maybe then you’ll realize how fucking important you are to me. Far more than some debt a thankful little boy felt he had to pay.”
“Dear God,” she moaned, pushing her face deeper into the sheets, her hips pushed out toward me, making her pussy bloom while I fucked her.
“You like that, don’t you? Thinking of me spilling blood for you, pulling out a man’s heart all in the name of love.”
“I guess that makes us both fucked up.” She squirmed, trying to match my every thrust as much as she possibly could with her hands tied behind her back.
Sweat beaded around my temples, my heart racing as if it could tear from my chest, my body rigid as tension gripped every muscle, ready to pump my release into her.
“I need you to come,” I ordered through my rapid breaths. “And I want to fucking hear you.”
“Elijah.” Her lips parted, eyes closed, and lips glistening. “Harder.”
Snaking my arm around her waist, pulling her tighter against my pelvis, skin slapping on skin, I pressed down on her clit, working her pussy as if my fucking life depended on it. “You better come on my cock before I cream this cunt of yours, cellist.”
Her moans grew louder as I pistoned harder, faster, mercilessly in and out of her. My balls smacked against her skin, and I bit my bottom lip, tasting my own blood while I fought for control, wanting her to come. But, Jesus, I was on the edge, my body ready to tip over. That was when I let go of her waist, reached for her hair, fisting the dark strands, and pulled her head back, causing her to scream. God, her screams. It was beautiful.
“That’s it,” I bit out, pulling her hair harder and fucking her cunt faster. “Scream for me, baby. Let me hear your pleasure.”
“Elijah. I’m coming.” And then I felt it, her pussy throbbing around my cock as she climaxed, her walls sucking me in deeper as her entire body trembled. Sweet, violent moans of ecstasy filled the bedroom, and I never wanted her to stop. I loved hearing her scream my name and watching her come undone because of my cock.
As her screams quieted, my orgasm snapped from my spine and slammed against the tip of my dick, jerking and throbbing as I spilled my load inside her. It was so fucking intense, every muscle in my body ached.
My cock was still twitching when I reached for the belt around her wrists, untying it. She fell forward, and I groaned as I slipped out of her, instantly mourning the loss of her slick heat.
I lay down on top of her—her back against my chest, her ass spooning perfectly against my cock. I eased the hair from the side of her face, both of us still breathing rapidly. “Don’t ever doubt my intentions when it comes to you. Do you understand me?”
She clutched the silk sheets between her fingers, her wrists red from where the leather had bitten into her skin. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.
“You’re my cellist,” I rasped against her ear, “my obsession…my requiem.”
