Bloody Heart (Brutal Birthright #4) - Sophie Lark Page 0,23

out of my pocket and stuff it into his hand. “Shut the fuck up and show me which way we can go to be alone,” I tell him.

He stares at the money for a second, then mutters, “That way. Just don’t touch anything, okay?”

I pull Simone away through the empty galleries of the museum. I’m dragging her along, my hand locked around her wrist.

She’s hurrying after me, stumbling a little in her high heels, with the heavy, cumbersome skirt of her gown slowing her down.

“What are you doing?” she gasps. “Where are we going?”

I have no idea.

I’m just looking for a place. A place where no one can see us or hear us. Where I can take possession of Simone once and for all.

Finally, we come to the Napoleon exhibit. Most of the lights are dimmed. I see a pale plaster death mask, military medals, hand-written letters under glass, a diamond-encrusted sword, a row of glass cologne bottles, and a pair of embroidered slippers. Portraits of the emperor, muskets, and a battered bicorne hat.

And then what I was looking for: a long velvet chaise, emerald green, with four carved legs and pillows at one end. It’s roped off, but otherwise unprotected.

I pick Simone up and I throw her down on that chaise.

“What are you doing!” she says, terrified. “We’re going to get in so much trouble—”

I shove the mask up off my face and I silence her with my mouth crashing down on hers. I kiss her voraciously. I taste the champagne on her tongue. I’m going to wipe every memory of that other man off her flesh. Everywhere he touched her, I’m going to touch her harder.

The chaise groans under my weight. I don’t care. I’ll splinter the whole damn thing with Simone underneath of me. I’ll bring this whole museum, and every artifact inside of it, crashing down around us.

There’s only one thing of value in here: Simone.

She belongs to me. Only to me.

I try to free her chest from the heavy bodice of her gown. The material resists me, and I rip it open. Her breasts spill out. I grope them hard, pinching her nipples until Simone gasps and moans.

I pull up the skirt, too.

She’s wearing thigh-high stockings and lace panties underneath. I rip those off. I push my fingers inside of her. She’s soaking wet, as I knew she would be.

I’ve already waited too long for this.

I’m done waiting.

I set my cock free from my trousers.

It’s raging hard, dying to sink into her warmth and wetness for the very first time. I tell myself to be gentle, to go slow. But my body isn’t taking orders from my brain anymore.

I put the head of my cock at her entrance.

And I plunge inside.

9

Simone

Dante’s lost his mind.

He throws me down on the chaise, not caring that this chair is over two hundred years old and never built for someone his size, let alone both of us.

He pushes up his mask so I can see his face, but that’s hardly any better.

He looks crazed. His eyes are blazing. His jaw an iron bar of tension.

His lips attack mine. He bites my lips, he shoves his tongue in my mouth, sucking the breath from my lungs. His hands are all over me. I hear fabric tearing and I don’t care in the slightest. I want his hands on my body, on my bare flesh.

He grabs my breasts and squeezes them.

Any boy who touched me before did it gently, hesitantly, always asking for permission.

Dante takes what he wants. He takes money, guns, and most of all, me. There’s no law on this earth he won’t break. And he sure as hell doesn’t care about social convention.

So I’m not surprised by how he acts.

I’m surprised by how I respond to it.

My body longs for it. It wants more and more and more. It doesn’t matter how roughly his hands grope and grab and squeeze. My flesh throbs, but the pleasure is so much more intense than the pain.

I’m grinding against him, feeling his rock-hard cock trapped between his belly and my thigh.

I’m terrified of that cock. I probably should have practiced with one that was smaller, softer, more reasonable . . .

It’s too late now. Practicing and waiting are at an end. Dante is taking what he wants tonight. And I want to give it to him.

He rips my panties, tearing them off my waist. He shoves his fingers inside of me. Even that is hard to take. I’m wet and I’m