Page 173 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
The gold silk of her ballgown was a perfect fit on a perfect body.
Sloping curves in a delicious hourglass—a gorgeous pedestal of glamor to highlight the elegance of her slender neck. Oh, how I’d love to feel her pulse there as I fucked her how she liked it. As Ishowedher how she liked it.
Rough.
Because, of course, in my head, Elaine Constantine was not well-mannered or well-bred. If she was to be my wife, she would learn to love kink. I’d make sure of that.
Her blonde curls were held up in twists that glittered with diamonds. Her fingers were perfectly manicured and glittering to match, sparkling under the chandelier lights every time she reached out a hand for some nobody to kiss it.
Lust had my cock throbbing.
Lust—and something else. I wanted to take her body.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Painfully.
I wanted to see her hurt. I wanted to hear her cry. I wanted to feel her body fight me as she begged me to stop, even though her pussy was screaming for more.
“Lucian? I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”
I turned to face the voice at my side and pasted on a grim smile.
It was Baron Rawlings, his red face still recognizable under his opera mask. Jesus Christ, even the British aristocracy had flown in for this. A teenager’s birthday party turned into the social event of the season. I wondered how Tinsley felt about that, before remembering she was a Constantine. I didn’t care how they felt.
I shook his sweaty hand. “Good evening, Baron. A pleasure to see you. I’m incognito, if you don’t mind. It would be better if people don’t know a Morelli crashed the party.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he assured me. “I loved your latest interview. About the Windleys and their investment changes. Excellent points. I called my broker right away.”
“Why, thank you. I’m very pleasedForbescalled me. Again.”
The waitress delivered my mineral water and scurried away again with anotherthank you, sir, thank you.She was pretty. A tight ass. Maybe on another night, I might bring her to the club. Then again, this was no ordinary night.
I half-listened to Baron Rawlings’s small talk. He tried to convince me to write an article on him and his heritage. Even a Constantine would have rolled his eyes at that one.
When Joseph Eddington came cruising up with a “Rawlings!”I used the moment to make my exit, and there she was again, waiting to transfix me, the woman in gold.
She brushed by me on her way to the next little cluster of guests, close enough that I could smell her. Orchids and plum. Rich. Posh.Fake.
I had to remember that about her. She was playing a part. So was I.
The woman was definitely tipsy. Laughing a touch too loud. Swaying in that sexy manner. Champagne? Yes. Cocaine? Possibly. I could virtually taste it in the air around her as I heard the click of her heels against the polished floor. But there was more.
Something…darker…
Secrets. I could see them inside her, burning deep. A chasm in her façade that people were failing to see. I could see right to the heart of her.
The wild child of the whole Constantine family.
I knew of her, everyone did, the party girl with desperate eyes. Always on the raucous outskirts of Bishop’s Landing, hitting the clubs in NYC and getting pictured in tabloids. It was the behavior that spoke of some personal pain, some secret demons haunting her.
It only made my cock throb harder.
I brushed up behind her, and she twisted her head to me; that’s when I first fixed her in my stare. Cruel. Bold. Dangerous.
Someone was chattering away to her, and Elaine wore a half-smile. Her gaze, however, wandered the room. It caught mine. She swallowed hard as our stares fixed and held, and I didn’t need to see the rest of her face. I saw enough in her gaze to know she was a doe in headlights. Her eyes were pools of blue, broken and lonely, captured by the chill of mine.
