Dark Queen - Ker Dukey Page 0,24

Luca marrying someone. It’s ridiculous, irrational, and fills me with dread.

Mrs Leto.

“I’m not going to marry some stranger and risk being stuck to a woman I despise for the rest of my life.” He twists his watch on his wrist, and I lap up the sight of his strong forearm, the veins straining with his movement, making my pussy ache.

I imagine his forearms working hard while he finger-fucks me, and my mouth floods with saliva.

“We won’t be eating.” Luca waves away the menu, his tone cold, drenching in me ice.

“He just wants to ensure succession and stability of assets with what happened. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a stranger.” Marcello’s tone softens.

With no excuse to stick around, I leave them to their conversation. “They’re not eating,” I shrug when I reach Simon.

His brow shoots up, and his bottom lip juts out. “Maybe we’ll get you home for curfew, after all.”

I chance a glimpse over my shoulder and see them pouring the bottle. “Or they’ll want to finish the bottle,” I groan, secretly hoping that’s the case.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, noting Simon watching me.

“You okay?” I ask, my brow dipping.

“Yeah, sorry. I haven’t seen you with your hair down. It’s really pretty.” A red flush blooms up his neck, and he diverts his gaze, shaking his head. It’s cute and makes me chuckle.

“I’ll let Darras know he can leave,” Simon splutters. “Maybe you can try calling your dorm to see if they’ll make an exception?” he adds, and I worry my lip, checking the time.

That’s not a bad idea. Julia, our house mother, was actually down to earth and lenient with the older students.

I wait for Simon to make it back out front in case Luca or Marcello needed anything else before grabbing my phone from the staff room.

Ignoring the texts and missed calls from Clint, I dial Julia.

No answer.

Dammit.

A gasp flees my lips when I’m suddenly thrust forward from behind. Luca’s scent encompasses me as he pushes against me, forcing me into the cold plaster of the wall.

“What the hell?” I pant.

Tugging on my hair, he gathers the locks into his fist and wraps it around his hand, causing a stinging pain at the nape of my neck. “You shouldn’t have this down while working.”

Thud.

I’ll wear it down all the time if this is the punishment.

My breathing is erratic. His hold and dominance should leave me terrified, but it doesn’t. I push my ass back and up, desperate to feel his cock between my cheeks. His hiss from my movements causes a groan to crawl up my throat.

“Why is it down?”

“My hair tie snapped.” I quiver, my hands splayed against the wall, the pulse in my neck flickering wildly.

He grunts and growls, breathing me in, animalistic, a ravenous beast straight from most people’s nightmares.

Not mine.

“Get the fuck out of here before my willpower snaps,” he snarls against my earlobe before releasing me.

I gulp for air and turn to see him retreating away from me.

A whimper escapes. My nipples ache. My pussy throbs for relief. With my cheeks flushed, I swallow. My mouth suddenly dry, I go back through to the bar for water just in time to see Luca exiting with his men, while Marcello stands by the bar.

His eyes clash with mine, ablaze. I bite my lip and take the few feet to reach him.

“Hey, bella,” Marcello croons, making my insides liquefy.

Between Marcello and Luca, every woman in their vicinity becomes drenched. It’s unfair to be so good looking.

“Marcello.” I smile, my nerves still raw with excitement and lust. His gaze lingers taking in my dishevelled appearance.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” His question catches me off guard, I blink erratically, leaning over the bar to grab the water bottle I keep there.

Chuckling, he tilts his glass in the direction of my phone. Clint’s name flashes across it as he calls me for the tenth time today.

Damn you Clint.

“No,” I scoff, ignoring the call, and turning my phone over to hide the screen. “Dancing takes all my focus.” I greedily gulp down the bottle of water and place a hand to my heart, willing it to stop racing.

Pushing out his bottom lip and dipping his head nodding he pulls out a stack of cash clipped together by a silver money grip that probably cost more than most people’s car.

Separating a few hundred bills, he drops them on the counter. “A sweetener for staying late.” He winks, and my body turns to goo.

Pointing to Simon,