Empire of Lust (Empire, #4)

by Rina Kent

His eyes shine in the darkness from behind the mask as he dives straight to my lips, capturing them with a harshness that knocks the living breath out of my lungs.

Logic is the last thing on my mind as I let him ravage me with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. Maybe I’ll never experience it again. And I know, I just know that he probably won’t let me go. And maybe I don’t want him to let me go either. My thoughts are reinforced when he releases my lips, and whispers against them, “I decided to keep you, after all.”

If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.

It might sound creepy, but I want to smell her close, even if it’s like this. All of a sudden, I miss her so much. Or maybe it’s not sudden at all. Even when I thought she’d died, I still missed her with every fiber of my being.

I mean, yes, she’s older now, married, and probably doesn’t need a mother, but I need her. I always have. The memory of her is what’s kept me going for decades. Ever since I ran away from home and carved my own path like a rolling stone.

“You must be better if your tongue is back to its favorite hobby of talking back.”

It scared the shit of me, the power he had and continued to have on me when he was nothing more than an Anonymous mask. Now that he has a face, an illegally gorgeous one at that, it’s even more dangerous.

Kingsley. Aka the most infuriating man to have ever walked the earth. The most attractive, too.

I couldn’t look away even if I tried. Because the thing is, Kingsley is veiny. He has big hands with long fingers and visible veins that stretch from the backs of them to his arms.

“W-hore. I’m no one’s whore.” “No one’s but mine, because I’ll eat your pussy like you are one.”

Kingsley emerges from between my legs and licks his lips. “You taste as wild as you look.”

“Arrogant much?” “You’re arrogant, too, but since you have a dick between your legs, it’s called charisma. Yet when a woman has confidence in herself and her work, she’s labeled an egotistical bitch. If we’re going to be fair, you should be called an egotistical dick.”

Aspen Leblanc is the war I’m going to conquer and bring to her knees. Literally. Figuratively.

My heart literally skips a beat. It doesn’t matter if she’s talking about me in the third person, but she indirectly admitted that I’m her mother. Her. Mother.

Kingsley Shaw is the kind of man who not only steals attention but does it so seamlessly that no one notices when they stop to listen to him.

“Why do you even remember that?” His voice is still rough, full of tension, but it’s also not as scary as a minute ago. “I have a strong memory.” Of you.

Any hint of control I used to yield shatters and withers at his feet. I’m lost in the intensity of his lips on mine, of how his tongue conquers my own, leaving me no choice but to kiss him back with a wild energy that matches his.

“I’m not…a whore.” “Not any whore, no. My whore, however? Definitely.”

Still buried deep inside me, he walks with purpose to God knows where. While kissing me. And all I can think about is that maybe he’s the yin to my yang.

To say I like taking her off guard would be an understatement. She becomes docile in a way, and so fucking adorable.

Aspen has always been a beautiful woman, even when she was an infuriating creature who loved to be a thorn in my side for sport.

“Where are my manners? Introduce us, Ms. Leblanc.” She gives me a glare that could cut through my nonexistent heart. “Jonathan, this is Kingsley Shaw. The co-owner of the firm where I work. Kingsley, this is Jonathan King. An English businessman who’s investing in the States.”

Aspen and I don’t just kiss, we war.

I find the fair skin of her neck, right between two fading hickeys, and bite. Harshly. “Ow, that hurts! Why do you keep biting me like an animal in heat?” “I’m better than an animal. I’m always in heat.”

The fucks I have to give are 404 not found.

Just know that no amount of resistance on your part will change my mind about what I’ll do to you.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “Exactly what you heard. I’ve decided you’re mine for the time being, and that means no other man will touch you aside from me.

“Wow. You sound so confident about the fact that I would agree to be yours.” “I’m rich, handsome, and illegally smart, not to mention I have a dick you can’t keep up with. I’m a catch. Highly recommended. So why wouldn’t you agree?” “I don’t know, due to the fact that I don’t even like you, maybe?” “You don’t have to like me to fuck me, sweetheart. Your pussy would gladly back my claim.”

“This isn’t a relationship. Only fucking, that either of us can walk away from at any second. And I’m not yours or anyone else’s. I belong to myself.” His eye twitches, but other than that, no reaction shows on his face. “So you want us to be friends with benefits, minus the friends part. So should it be called enemies with benefits? A hate-fucking relationship?”

“You’re sick, Kingsley.” “And you’re blushing.” “I’m fuming.” “Semantics.”

“Just because you’re rich and attractive doesn’t give you the right to exploit people or treat them as if they’re cattle.” “I only heard the rich and attractive part.”

The fire-like storm that ignites in his eyes leaves me breathless. He has a way of looking at me as if I’m his favorite meal.

Due to her witch blood and alleged relations to Satan himself, she’s a hard one to win over. Always putting up a fight in fucking everything.

She stares me straight in the eye as she snatches Mateo’s drink and pours it over my head with a sweet smile on her face. “Have a shitty evening, prick.” Still smiling, she nods at everyone. “Gentlemen.”

He reaches me in two long strides and gathers me in his arms. The act is so effortless that I want to disappear in it for a while. And it seems to come naturally, as if he’s been doing this—holding me, cocooning me—for decades.

My fingers go lax against his chest and I hate how safe it feels with him. How, instead of trying to find my own way and lick my wounds solo, I prefer the warmth of this place. Where his heart beats against mine.

I swallow the saliva gathered in my throat, because no matter how much I attempt to be, I’m not desensitized to this man’s physical beauty or imposing presence.

“Goddamn you, Kingsley.” “God-fucking-damn you, Aspen. Just say the words.” “I’m not your plaything, asshole.” “No, you’re not. You’re the whole fucking game.”

Something has changed between us, and I have no idea what it is. All I know is that I don’t think about leaving when he gathers me in his arms and sleeps wrapped all around me.

We usually bicker like the worst of enemies. Our philosophies, perspectives, and view of the world are as different as night and day. He’s a manipulator. I’m a rationalist. He’s violent in both thinking and action. I’m more diplomatic. He’s the storm. I’m the sea that refuses to be flipped upside down. And yet, we have the deepest conversations. He’s one of the few men who isn’t intimidated by my mind, and the only man who wants more of it.

Karma might be your beloved bitch, but pure spite happens to be mine, sweetheart.

I expect him to pull away, but he captures my lips in a slow, passionate kiss that rattles me to the bones. “Dream of me, sweetheart.” And then he’s out the door, carrying a piece of my heart.

Not in this life would I have thought that I’d have Aspen in this position. Not only is she prideful, but she hates showing any form of vulnerability. But she’s on her knees for me. A sense of possessiveness rushes through my bones at the thought. Aspen might be a wild horse, but she’s my wild horse.

I need to get it together because I’m starting to believe in our things. Our time. Our work. Our relationship. Jeez. This isn’t what I signed up for.

“You looked good on your knees.” “You’re the only man I would get on my knees for.” His eyes darken and his grip turns possessive like nothing I’ve witnessed before. And for some reason, my mouth goes dry. “And you won’t get on your knees for anyone else in the future,” he announces out of nowhere.

“I thought we weren’t friends. Let go of me.” “That’s true. We’re not friends, sweetheart. You’re my fucking woman.”

There’s always this animalistic need to mark every inch of her skin so she’ll only belong to me. So I’m the only man who ever gets to own her body and has a mission to conquer her soul.

I never had these feelings about a woman before. There was a hint of wanting more when I first met her, but it wasn’t to the extent of this burning obsession.

She’s so fucking beautiful, like my tailored fallen angel and the devil’s favorite demon.

I don’t give a fuck at this point. All I care about is that this woman needs to be mine.

But this witch has made me want to jump into a volcano headfirst just because she’s in the middle of it. I’d probably enjoy every burn, too.