Page 44 of Sweet Violence
"You'll never hear me beg you for a single thing. You're delusional if you think otherwise."
My clit pounded, pleasure rippling through my pussy. I slid a thin, flat blade from a hidden pocket in my leggings and tapped Taj's bulge with it.
His nostrils flared as he let go of my poor, abused nipple.
"Where did you even keep that?" he muttered. "There's no room for hiding anything in those clothes?"
I smirked. "Like I'd tell you my secrets."
Rough hands grabbed my ass and suddenly I was straddling Taj's lap, his hands roaming my body—for more knives, I realised a beat too late. Fucking bastard. Did his hands have to feel so good on my body?
The dogs reacted to his sudden movement with a deafening roar of barks, and even Taj winced.
"Calm!" he shouted, his head twisted to give his dogs a stern glare. "You're hellhounds, not common mutts, and I expect you to behave that way."
"Wait, wait, wait," I laughed. "These puppies arehellhounds?You're fucking kidding me."
Taj’s expression turned dry with amusement. "They're dogs in Hell. What did you think they were?"
"Cute," I replied emphatically.
He laughed, a warm sound that travelled through my whole body, weakening my complete, seething hatred of this bastard.
A polite knock on the door had us jumping apart and the dogs sprinting towards it, barking at the top of their lungs. With a hiss, I slammed my hands over my ears and got to my feet, not looking anywhere evenremotelynear Taj.
When the barking calmed, I put my knife back in its hidden pocket and hoped my face wasn't too red. I didn't care if someone found me in the middle of sex, but in the middle of flirting with Taj Amora? Fuck, no.
"Your highness," a stiff voice greeted when Taj opened the door.
"Jeren," Taj replied warmly, making me frown. He knew the guards’ names? I'd have thought trivial things like that were beneath a prince heir?
"His majesty requests the presence of her highness in his drawing room."
"Ooh, drawing room," I said, strolling across the room. "Fancy."
"Her highness," Taj repeated, throwing it at me like an accusation.
"Yup, that's me," I said with a grin and a little wave. "Her highness. Actually, what's my full, official title?"
"Queen consort of Hell, your highness," Jeren answered, a twinkle in his eye when I came into view. The man was dark orange, ten feet tall, and had greying black hair and spiralling ram's horns coming out of his forehead. Like the green guy I accidentally killed, he wore a pitch black uniform accented in silver. He also had an impressive moustache.
I nodded. "I like it. Nice seeing you, Taj. Oh, and if you want my advice—"
"I, and I mean this with my whole heart," he replied, "do not."
"Suit yourself," I said cheerfully, shrugging as I followed Jeren out the door. "I had an idea for how to help Malice, but since you don't want to know, I'll keep it to myself."
I wasn't a hundred percent sure, but I thought I saw Jeren's mouth twitch under his moustache.
"Fine," Taj hissed as I took several steps down the wide, cold hallway. "What is it?"
"Please," I prompted, turning back to face Taj with a sweet, innocent look on my face.
"Please," he seethed through gritted teeth.
"Peanut butter. And fuck the spoon; give her the whole jar. She deserves comfort food after her ordeal."
Taj blinked, then schooled his features into mild derision. "Fine. I'll try it. But I doubt anythingyou'vecome up with has much value."
