Page 9 of Wolfsbane Hall
Dean’s chin slightly dipped into a nod, his jaw tightening, but his lips remained shut. He’d used up his allotted word count for the moment and refused to say anymore. Instead, he rotated on his heel and strolled away, as if completely unaffected by the interaction. Done engaging altogether.
Fury stroked through her. He was so…frustrating, and worse, condescending. But she couldn’t focus on that now. She needed to find a target. Thankfully, luck was on her side tonight, because just as Dean made to turn out of her sight, one of Dorothy’s many lovers turned the corner and nearly ran into him.
Richard Monroth.
Dean scowled at the other man. They hated each other. Richard was a regular at Wolfsbane Hall who enjoyed fucking and murdering—he got off on both. Often at the same time. He had long desired a night with Celestine, but there had never been a show that would satisfy that desire.
Not until tonight.
And Celestine had no qualms about fucking him, especially not if it would anger Dean Ashbrook.
A bright smile appeared on her lips, and she said, “Ah, Lord Mountdrake, I have been looking everywhere for you.” She bounced on her toes and ran toward him, hoping he would accept her affections and catch her.
He did, and she jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist and her lips touching his. He met her with a hunger that far outmatched hers. His tongue jutted inside her mouth, greedy and demanding.
Celestine met his ferocity, but eventually, she pulled away to breathe. She’d expected Dean to have left, but he merely leaned against the wall and glared at her. Celestine’s nostrils flared, and she met his glare with one of her own. Dark and provoking.
His lips curled slowly and sharply into a smile that seemed to be carved from dark warnings.
Celestine gulped and turned her gaze back to the man holding her up by her ass cheeks. “Would you like to go somewhere more private?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said in a smooth voice, but he didn’t put her down as expected. Instead, he held her tighter to his chest and walked her to the closest room.
The Downstairs Study.
As the door closed, Celestine looked once more out into the hallway, where her eyes again found Dean’s. He gave nothing away on his face, but every muscle in his body was stiff.
Celestine swallowed but turned her attention back to her next victim.
It didn’t take long for Richard to have her dress up around her waist and his dick pounding inside of her as she was perched on the desktop. There was no foreplay, no seeing if she was ready, and no attending to her needs.
His sex was all about him.
She didn’t mind. Sometimes, she just wanted it rough. Sometimes, she enjoyed the pain. Celestine didn’t have to fuck Richard—she never had to fuck any patron. She could have stopped with a few kisses; usually, she would. But it was a murder night, and on a murder night, she would take any distraction, any drug.
And for the moment, her drug of choice was his dick.
The slight pain, the pounding, and the lack of care fueledher in a way. She was using him just as much. Sex for her wasn’t about love. It was a transaction. She usually got pleasure with James, but with others, she got something different.
As he pounded into her, she used the distraction to rip one of his cufflinks off and hide it in a marble jar that shook with their movements.
At some point during the encounter, Richard pulled out and flipped her, smashing her head into the desk as he took her from behind. Her eyes focused on the marbles rattling in the glass. It wasn’t that she felt no pleasure at all, his penis stroking her velvet did feel good, it just wasn’t great.
It simplywas.
A slightly gratifying means to an end.
He roared as his hot seed filled her, and he convulsed, his weight resting on top and pinning her further into the desk. “Oh, that was so good,” he growled, panting into her hair.
She stifled a sigh. At least it was for one of them. She gritted her teeth, waiting for him to climb off her and remove his below-average dick. When he did, she turned around, meeting his sex-soaked, satisfied gaze. At least she was of service to someone.
Cum rolled down her leg. As he saw it, he said, “What a good little cum hole you are,” and slapped her cheek softly in the most condescending of ways. Then he cupped her chin and pulled her into him, taking another kiss, his cock hardening again. Eventually, he released her lips. “On your knees. I want to fill both of your holes with my seed.”
Celestine swallowed past the lump in her throat. Men were so predictable. Channeling her character Dorothy, Celestine said, “As truly tempting as that suggestion is, I’d rather not. I’ve gotten my use out of you.” She tapped his cheek like he had done to her before she reached into the jar, took a handful ofmarbles—including the cufflink—and twirled on her heels, walking away, treating him like trash the same way he would have treated her.
“Well, that was fun,” she said, clicking the door closed and leaving him alone with his seething thoughts.
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