Page 230 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
The thought had me hard all over again.
It’s a strange thing how walking alone can allow your thoughts to speak to each other so well. I found myself wondering just what the hell it was that made Elaine so irresistible to me. What the fuck was it that made that little princess so damn special?
I remembered her skin pressed close to mine. Remembered the look in her eyes whenever they caught sight of me. I remembered her needy flesh, trembling for more pain, even when she was begging me to stop.
Hurting her asshole was only a tiny taste of what was teasing me. I wanted the rest of her. Every filthy scrap of her.
I wanted her to be my toy.
Elaine Constantine was a dirty little flower in a filthy world. She was tainted innocence in the face of debauchery. She was an unopened book with deep dark secrets, handwritten pages of beautiful hurt and shame and darkness in the half light.
She was a good girl who thought she was bad. A sweet little angel, begging to be punished.
I’d punish her for her family’s sins as well as her own, and I’d love her for it. I’d love her to be a pretty little canvas in my basement, ready to be scarred with my evil.
There was a strange twinge of fear right down in my guts as I headed back to my apartment that night. I wasn’t the only evil man planning to hurt Elaine Constantine. The sweet little angel was running out of time for salvation…and I was running out of time to save her from her sins.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Elaine
The apartment blockfelt like a beacon of hope as the cab pulled into the parking lot.
I was still damp from Lucian’s cold dousing as I raced on up through the main reception, still hurting from his assault on my asshole, too.
The monster.
I loved Lucian Morelli. And I hated him.
The little girl in me was crying out. If only Lucian had been there to save me from all the other evil assholes I’d known in my lifetime…maybe then I wouldn’t be so scared and broken. But it was too late for that.
I’d never have believed it possible that one of the Morellis could have ever, ever saved me from my own sordid family, not in a million years, but there I was, considering it as amaybeas my heart thumped wild.
The Morellis were supposed to be demons clawing at the gates of Constantine heaven. That’s what we were taught. Indoctrinated with, really. It had been a lesson I’d learned since I was old enough to understand words. The Morellis were bad people. I’d never once held up their bloodstained souls and compared them to ours.
My phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Tristan.
Thank fuck it was Tristan.
My fingers were shaking worse than ever as I answered him, and my voice was as shaky to match. “Hello? Tristan? Hello?”
His voice was as jagged as mine was, gasping breaths as he found the words. “Is he there? Lucian? Is he there? He’s coming after you, Lainey! He’s coming!”
Tristan’s call was way too late to warn me of the devil’s appearance, but I couldn’t tell him that. “Lucian isn’t here. I’m, um…I’m at home…”
“What? You’re home? Is Stephen there? Are you with Stephen?”
More than anything I wanted to tell Tristan the truth; that Stephen had tried to rape me, and Lucian had saved me from his grasp. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him that Stephen was dead, and I’d been ass-fucked in his blood and loved every second of it.
“I’m not with Stephen, either,” I said. “He didn’t come with me.”
“Holy shit, Lainey. Morelli was looking for you.” He paused. “Coming for you and Stephen…so where’s Stephen? Where the fuck is Stephen, Laine? He wouldn’t have let you go that easy.”
“I dunno…” I said, but my voice let me down. Tristan knew that. He knew me well enough to read my tone, even through my lies.
I felt his senses sharpen. “You do know. Where is Stephen?”
