“He lets you write what you want for every paper?”
“At first, no. It was just for the Wednesday edition. But when he started to see the higher traffic to the website, he did.”
I could not stop looking at her, checking her out. Every time she moved, it was a calculated movement. She was socially awkward, but it could all very well be an act. I knew these things, because I used to be like her, years and years ago, before I’d met Lincoln and fallen into his family business.
What was this woman hiding?
“Why do you find them so interesting?” I asked as I was busy studying the way she kept kicking the bottom of her own stool absentmindedly.
Stella was lost in her own thoughts. She looked at me suddenly, her blue eye drawing my attention. “What?” Almost like she hadn’t heard a word I’d said.
Her eyes were…God, they were fucking amazing. The most beautiful set of eyes I’d ever seen, easily, hands down. The more I looked at them, the easier it was for me to get lost in them. The blue one especially. Its color was lighter, purer than my own, not a single bit of brown in it. And her brown eye—a light, warm amber. I could definitely see how people might label her special only because of her eyes, but I knew she was much more than her rare gaze.
“Serial killers,” I said. “What about them do you find so interesting?”
She was slow to shrug, apparently not as verbose or eloquent as her articles would suggest. “I don’t know. I guess I find everything about them interesting. I don’t think there’s a single boring serial killer out there.”
“What got you into first writing about them?” I had to know more, had to dive into her head. If I could pry her open and see for myself what made her tick—without killing her—I would in a heartbeat.
This woman…I needed her. I needed her right fucking now.
“I remember growing up, hearing about them. One was caught a few cities away from my parents’ house, and the news coverage was constant for the next few months, and even after the trial. I just…I felt…” Stella trailed off, running a hand through her hair as she straightened her back. “I just knew.”
I asked how long she’d been working for the Tribune, whether she went to college. The usual stuff. Her parents had paid for college, I found out, and she majored in psychology. She had wanted to know more about the criminal mind, but her university’s program was more about the data collection rather than the individual subject. So, somehow she wound up here, a few hours away from her hometown and a couple more away from her college.
Everything I asked of her, Stella told me without hesitation, as if there was not a thing called oversharing with a stranger. I found it refreshing, because most women liked to play coy, or give roundabout answers that weren’t really answers. Stella was unique in more ways than one.
I learned she shared a house with a single roommate, her best friend from high school. Callie was her name, and Stella spoke of her fondly. It was the one time her face truly lit up, and she damn near almost smiled as she told me some of her friend’s antics. Her friend, it sounded like, had never moved on from the boy crazy phase from their young adult years.
What I would give to see this woman smile. That, and see her naked under me. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to get her to come home with me. Lincoln worked the second shift, so he wouldn’t get home until after midnight. Stella and I could have the whole house to ourselves, and get to know each other very well…
“So,” I said, doing my best to sound normal and not overly curious, “since that prick isn’t your boyfriend…” She stared at me, as if confused as to where my question was going. “Are you single, then?”
Stella’s gaze fell, and I couldn’t help but wonder where her eyes landed. “I am,” she whispered, dragging the two words out for an eternity, like she was afraid to say them. Like she knew, deep down, her answer was all I needed to officially make her mine.
The truth was, I wouldn’t give a single shit if she had a boyfriend. No one could possibly treat her well enough. No one could ever appreciate her like I could. I would worship the ground she walked on, make her smile, make her feel things no one else had made her feel before. Open her eyes to the wonders of the world, and to the beauty of darkness. True darkness.
This woman…she wrote about killers, but she’d never stared one in the face before tonight.
When I only stared at her, Stella asked, “Is this when you say I’m in luck, or something cheesy like that?” She sounded almost hopeful. Everything about her was…almost. Almost, but not quite. She was not whole.
“I’m in the market for more than just a girlfriend,” I said, leaning closer to her. She didn’t lean away, which only excited me. Maybe I was getting to her after all—one step closer to actually being inside of her. She would not look so emotionless while I was pounding away at her.
She played my game by asking, “What are you looking for, Edward?”
Edward. She liked my full name best. I liked how it sounded on her tongue.
What else could she do with that tongue?
“I need a partner,” I said, keeping the fact I already had a partner in Lincoln to myself. One thing at a time. I didn’t want to scare her off before getting her naked and alone. “A partner in crime, a partner in bed—” I was going to say more, but she interrupted me.
Ah, so the woman had some balls of her own; she just chose when to show them.
Stella matched my posture, leaning closer to me. A twinkle danced in her eyes, both of them, almost like she was excited. “What kind of crime are you getting into?” A soft, gentle, near nonexistent smile grew on her lips. “Should my next article be about you?”
Oh, my. How right she was, and how badly she tempted me. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and take her home this instant—or have at her here and now—but I held back. It was hard to keep my hands off her, and I felt the familiar stirring of my dick in my pants.
“You have no idea of the things I could show you,” I whispered. Her face was inches from mine, and I could smell her soap. Lavender. Her skin looked soft, too. Without a blemish. No acne scars, no beauty marks or moles. No wrinkles. The closer I got to her, the more perfect she looked.
How flawless would she look when her legs were spread under me? What sounds would she make as she squirmed? My mind danced. Would she enjoy being tied up, or would she like to take charge and for once be the one dominating me? My dick perked up even more at the thought. I never thought I was the kind of man to submit to anyone, but maybe to Stella…
Stella didn’t move away from me. She murmured, so quiet it was hard to hear her, even with our closeness, “And what things are those?” If she wanted me to be more specific, I would gladly oblige.
“Maybe we should start with the things I would do to you.” I moved a hand, drawing a finger tentatively along her cheek, watching as she shivered at my touch. Fuck. I needed this woman, and I needed her now. “First thing, I’d take you home and make you take off your clothes. Then I’d tie you up and spread your legs.”
Her breath caught in her throat as my finger ran over her lips. Still, she did not pull away. She wanted more; I could see it in her eyes.
“I would make every part of you mine,” I whispered, stopping myself from leaning forward and taking her lips right here and now. I couldn’t, because if I got started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. “Claim you as mine with my mouth and my hands, before I make that sweet hole of yours wet with my dick—” Speaking of my dick, it was rock hard now. So much for trying to keep it low key while in public.
Stella didn’t give me a chance to say more—and I definitely could’ve kept going. I had a long list of things I’d do to her, and I could get extremely detailed. No, the woman surprised me when she said, “Let’s go.”
Oh, fuck. This woman had no idea what was headed her way, but I’d make sure she enjoyed every last part of it.
Chapter Five – Stella
As Edward quickly paid his
tab and grabbed my hand, leading me out of the bar, I was stunned at myself. Why did I say that? I wasn’t the kind of person who went home with a stranger, let alone a person who let a stranger talk to me like that.
I would be a liar if I said it didn’t make me warm in certain places, though. A bad liar. And I couldn’t help but feel connected to Edward in the weirdest way, almost like I knew him. Almost like we’d met before, in another life. Not that I believed in reincarnation, but…if fate existed, it had to have played a hand in our meeting tonight.
Everything felt right.
We left the bar, and I didn’t even look to see if Killian was watching. I didn’t care. If he could have some fun time with one of his employees—with Sandy—then I could do whatever I wanted, too. We weren’t dating, we weren’t together. We were both adults free to make our own decisions.
I might’ve just made the worst decision of my life, going home with a strange man who looked like he could bend me in half and break me, but I was so suddenly very tired of playing the good girl. I wanted to be bad, and I wanted to be bad with Edward.
He brought me to his car, not even asking about mine. I wasn’t even sure where he lived, where he was taking me. I supposed he could be a serial killer or some other kind of criminal—he had seemed very unperturbed by my fascination with them. Maybe he was taking me back to his place just to make me his next victim.
I…would again be a liar if I said the possibility didn’t appeal to me, as twisted as it was.
It wasn’t like I had a death wish—I didn’t want to die. It would just be fitting, in the grand scheme of things, if that’s how I went.
As Edward got into the driver’s side and started his car, driving us to God knew where, I started to wonder. If he tried to kill me, would I fight back? Not only was I weaker than him, but also smaller. He had every advantage. Plus, I’d never once taken a self-defense class, in spite of my parents’ guidance. Gotta learn to protect yourself. Bullshit.
If a killer wanted me, he could take me. I probably wouldn’t be the victim he wanted, or the one he was hoping for, but…oh well, right?
I debated on asking where Edward lived, whether or not I should text Callie to let her know I had gone home with a random stranger, but I kept quiet, and I didn’t once reach for my phone. I would have stories to tell her in the morning, presuming I lived through the night.
I rolled my ankles as I watched the city blocks pass by. From the look of it, we were heading out of town and into the next city over. Huh. Had to be fate to meet Edward at the bar, considering there had to be other places he could’ve gone closer to home.
Neither of us said much during the thirty-minute car ride. I shot side glances to him every few minutes, finding he was busy staring at the road ahead. His focused face was cute—a weird thought for me, because I didn’t often gush about guys’ looks. Then again, never before had I ever wanted to be so free with myself and my body. Not even on the double dates Callie had set up numerous times to try to get me out of my shell.
Edward pulled us into the garage of a quaint, two-story house. It looked relatively updated, well-kept. As he shut the car off and got out, closing the garage door behind us, I couldn’t help but wonder if he owned or rented the place. What did he do for a living? A question I should’ve asked him earlier, but he was too zeroed in on me to give me a chance to ask anything about him.
I followed him into the house, coming into a clean, modern kitchen. Loads and loads of subway tile, painted cabinets, the whole shebang. It was a pretty place; put mine to shame.
“Bedroom’s this way,” Edward said, heading down the hallway and up the stairs, passing the living room, where a sectional and a recliner sat across from a huge TV that had to be at least seventy inches. He took his entertainment very seriously.
I trailed after him, a strange feeling growing inside of me. Was I nervous? Was that what this was? I shouldn’t be, because Callie did things like this all the time, as did pretty much every woman on TV. This was normal, wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know. I was not the most normal woman around.
His bedroom was not the only bedroom upstairs; we passed a rather dark and gloomy room before we reached his. Luckily his roommate didn’t seem to be home. Edward stepped into his bedroom first, flicking on the light, stepping aside to let me enter. I spun in a circle, studying the decorating. Simple, elegant. Clean. Light colors on everything, even the bedspread. The headboard was the darkest thing, a deep mahogany.
As he closed the door, Edward’s eyes ate me up, more intrusive than anyone else’s stare had ever been. He did not linger on my eyes, which was nice. I was more than my pretty eyes; at least I thought so.
“Take off your clothes,” he said, getting right to the point. Edward stepped forward, placing me between the foot of the bed and him. “Take them off, or I’ll rip them off you.” Spoken not as a threat but as a promise—a promise that made my heart flutter.
Was I crazy for finding his dominant tone the most attractive thing I’d ever heard and his serious expression the sexiest thing I’d ever seen?
I couldn’t disobey him, even if I wanted to—and I didn’t want to. I would give in to any demand he made of me, regardless of what it was. This man had me wrapped around his finger so quickly I had whiplash in the best of ways.
I found myself turning, giving him my back, but he stopped me with a low chuckle. The sound sent tingles down my spine. It was almost a cruel chuckle, cold but not quite. I loved the sound.
“It’s adorable that you think I’m going to let you take them off without looking at me,” he said. “Turn and face me, and then take them off, slowly. Watching is my second favorite part.”
Not sure what he meant by it, I was measured in facing him again, meeting his blue stare. My fingers toyed with the bottom hemline of my shirt, and I sluggishly drew my arms up as I clutched the fabric. Up and over my head the shirt went, messing up my hair a bit, but my hair was always messy. Messy hair and a messy mind.
When my shirt fell to the floor, Edward nodded once. “Good,” he said, though his tone wasn’t exactly praising me. “Now your boots, and then your pants.”
I bent down to unzip my boots, sliding them off one by one, and then I went to undo the button on my jeans. Within a minute, my jeans were on the ground with my shirt and boots, and I stood there in nothing but my underwear and my bra. Never wore socks—wasn’t a fan, even on cold winter days.
I felt…a bizarre mixture of turned on and apprehensive. The way he looked at me, at my body, made me feel warm all over, but I couldn’t help but also feel anxious. What if this was all a game? What if he didn’t like my body or me at all? If this was some sick, cruel joke, I didn’t think I’d be able to take it.
But when he stepped closer, one of his hands moving to touch my side, all of my doubt and worry faded instantly. Edward’s grip was firm and strong, possessive in a way it shouldn’t be, considering we just met tonight. What was even odder, however, was the acceptance I felt. If he was going to be possessive, I might as well be possessed.
No one had ever wanted me like that before—at least no one I would’ve been okay with.
Edward, well, I didn’t know him, but I felt like I did. I was drawn to him in a way I’d never been drawn before. Such a cliché thing to admit, but there it was, plain as day, out in the open.
He could possess me all he wanted, could look at me like his prized possession all he wanted. I was not an object, but he could own me and use me however he saw fit.
And then, just like that, Edward stepped back, his hand sliding off me as he said, “Next. I’ll leave the choice up to you.” How kind of him.
I reached behind me, never breaking eye contact with him, and unhooked my bra, letting the sheer black cups fall to the floor beside me. My chest inhaled deeply, and I didn’t need to look to know my nipples were already hard, either from the sudden change in temperature or the fact I was turned on. Maybe a mixture of both.
I wanted this
man more than I’d ever wanted anything in my entire life.
Tonight was full of firsts.
As his gaze ate me up, I slid a finger between my underwear and my hip. Soon enough, it was on the floor too, and I stood before Edward stark naked, a bit chilly, and fully ready for whatever was going to come next.
It was almost like someone had taken over my body. This wasn’t me. I would never strip for a stranger or go to his house without letting someone know where I was. Would I? I guessed I never had the opportunity before, or the inclination to do any of it.
“Get on the bed, on your back” was Edward’s next command, and I all too willingly did as I was told.
The bed was cushioned and comfortable beneath me, and I rested my head on the mound of pillows in front of the headboard. I was showing Edward parts of me I’d never showed anyone else, and the night was far from over. It was a good thing I’d been on the pill for a few years, largely thanks to my mom’s insistence.
Edward crawled over me, still clothed, though he had taken off his shoes. He leaned over me, grabbing my left wrist and hoisting it to the corner of the bed, where a rope sat, currently unused but waiting. He tied me down, wrist after wrist, expertly, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d done this before.
How many other women had been in the same position I was in now? The thought of Edward with other woman was…not something I should think about, but my mind wandered all the same, both in misplaced jealousy and sick curiosity. Had they come just as willingly as I did?
It didn’t matter. The other women weren’t here now. I was, and I had to remember that. Right now it was just Edward and me.
When both of my wrists were tied up, Edward brought his face to mine. “Normally I like to tie your ankles too, but we’ll save it for next time,” he said, his hands moving down my arms and across my collarbone.
I couldn’t help but tense at his touch—his hands were a little rougher than I expected them. Whatever he did, he used his hands a lot. I did find it interesting he thought there would be a next time…though who the hell was I trying to kid? This man had me basically a slave to him on the first night. If he wanted me again, I’d come running.
Cruel Black Hearts: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance Page 4
