Page 23 of Tainted Love
I raise my hands and let out a low chuckle. “Whatever you say, Duchess.”
Bea lets out a frustrated snarl. “I’ve told you to stop calling me that. Why are men such fucking arseholes?”
I crowd her against the wall. “Let’s get one thing straight, Duchess. Don’t compare me to that preppy fuckeveragain, or there will be consequences.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows, and her pupils dilate. She may fight her attraction to me, but she’s not fooling anyone.
My voice is low, my breath fanning the fine hairs floating beside her face as my fingers trail lightly over the valley of her breasts. I grin as her nipples harden at my touch. “Tell me again who you were imagining while your fingers were buried deep inside your pretty little cunt.”
I see the flash of defiance in her eyes. “Kil?—”
“Wrong answer.”
Bea gasps as I drop my head and bite hard on her nipple through her bathing suit. My hand slides down her stomach, breaching her bikini bottoms, cupping her warm heat. She’s fucking dripping. I slide my finger along her slick folds, gathering her juices.
“This tight little pussy belongs to me. No one else,” I growl. As I remove my finger, I straighten so I can stare into her amber eyes, basking in the whimpering sounds she makes. Despite being desperate for a taste of her, I rub her juices on her plush bottom lip. “You’re going to beg me to take you, Bea, and it’s going to be so fucking sweet.”
I don’t see Bea’s fist coming until it connects with my jaw, sending my head reeling back.
“Get one thing straight,Elias,” she hisses through gritted teeth while she shakes out her hand. “Like I told you before, I won’t beg for anyone.”
The sound of laughter comes from behind me, and I look up to find Killian, Asher, and Wyatt, towels slung over their shoulders. Bea shoves past me, stalking past the guys towardsthe pool. I straighten up and work my jaw from side to side. She hits pretty hard for a chick.
“Guess she’s still fighting the Vasilios charm,” Kill says with a snort. I respond by raising my middle finger, but it only makes him laugh more.
Asher joins in. “Maybe she’s not into the broody, tortured artist type.”
“Fuck off.” I shove him playfully. “You guys leaving?”
“Wyatt’s gotta get home to look after his brothers,” Asher says. I glance over at our keyboardist, but he’s got his head in his phone.
“Whatever. Practise tomorrow afternoon?”
“Only if your AC is back up and running. Fuck playing in this hot box,” Kill complains.
I scowl at him. “We’ve got a gig in two days, and we still need to nail the bridge of the new song.”
He shrugs. “Best you wave your new stepdad’s credit card around then and get someone in stat. Call us when it’s fixed.”
“Arsehole,” I mutter to myself as they let themselves out the front door.
I need to call a repairman to get this fucking air conditioning problem sorted, but my phone is still out by the pool. Bea is out there and she’s lucky the guys came inside when they did, or she would have been punished for putting her hands on me. As it is, I’m barely holding my shit together when it comes to her.
A girl hasn’t fucked with my head this bad since Jas, and that didn’t turn out so well. I need to get control of myself, so I’m the one in control of this narrative, not Bea. She has me so messed up, even my mates are picking up on it.
Chapter 13
Bea
THERE’S A WORK van parked in the driveway the next morning.
I suffered a sleepless night and another cold shower, this time with no self-pleasure—I learned my lesson after yesterday. I slip on a mint green Prada-inspired baby doll dress I designed in high school and head down to the kitchen to see what Roberta has left for breakfast. Thursdays are her day off because she has her bridge club, but she always leaves the fridge stocked.
Elias is nowhere to be seen, and I skirt around the ladder in the hallway, which leads up to the open access panel. He must have reached our parents to arrange for someone to come and fix the air conditioning. While I’m still pissed at Elias for what he said to me yesterday, I am grateful we will soon have the air conditioning working. Today is expected to hit forty degrees, and I got little sleep last night thanks to the unbearable heat wave.
When I reach the kitchen, I see Elias through the window. He’s swimming laps in the pool, the muscles in his shoulders ripple as his arms slice through the water. I forcemyself to look away—I amnotinterested in that arsehole—especially after the crude way he spoke to me yesterday. I don’t know who he thinks he is, but there is no way in hell I am letting him touch me again. We’re stepsiblings for fuck’s sake. Not only is it inappropriate for him to be entertaining the idea of anything happening between us, but he is also a condescending jerk for telling me I’m going to beg him for sex.
While I may have broken up with Hunter, it doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into bed with him. I don’t care if he is the lead singer of Forever Summer. That doesn’t impress me. And fuck him for thinking he can use me like some little groupie whore.
