Cruel Black Hearts: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance

by Candace Wondrak

  My hand tightened around the switchblade’s handle. I could end the woman with a single strike to the throat, but it would be bloody. I could impale her brain and end her that way, save myself the mess.

  Yeah, that’s what I would have to do.

  Stella stood less than a foot in front of me, looking…well, small. She was a tiny thing, five foot tall, maybe. Frail and thin, like she didn’t take care of herself, almost as if she didn’t care enough to. Her face was gaunt but smooth, without any flaws. She breathed in evenly, not afraid even a little. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, and my eyes were drawn to her mouth, though I knew they shouldn’t be.

  I shouldn’t be staring at her at all. I should be sliding the blade into her skull and ending this once and for all. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about what she tasted like, whether her lips would be sweet or ravenous on mine.

  Right now, she was off-limits because I was going to kill her.

  I inhaled sharply, raising the switchblade to her face, pressing the flat side of it against her gaunt cheek. A part of me wanted to hurt her before I killed her, wanted to cut her pretty skin and make her regret ever stepping foot into our lives.

  But then…it wasn’t really her fault, was it? It was Ed’s.

  When I exhaled, I found my breath was shaky, so I spoke in a bare whisper, “I’m going to kill you.” But my fucking voice trembled too, almost as if I didn’t want to kill her. Which was just stupid, because I did want to kill her.

  I did. For Ed. For us. For…

  My thoughts trailed off when she opened her eyes. Not fully, but enough for me to see the color distinction between the two under her thick lashes. Her right eye, a gorgeous, deep blue, so startling against her pale skin. And her left: an alluring, soothing amber, the very color most brown eyes wished they could be.

  Not those fucking eyes.

  They would not get to me tonight. I wouldn’t let them.

  Unable to look down on them, I pulled the switchblade off her face and spun her around, wrapping my arm above her chest, holding hers down to her sides. With her back on my front, I wouldn’t have to look into those fucking eyes while I ended her. No more lies. No more two-faced women. No more Stella.

  Once more, I pressed the switchblade against her cheek. What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t waver, didn’t stutter. I strangled a girl while I was inside her all because her eyes had reminded me of Stella’s. I could kill as easily as other people breathe.

  Why couldn’t I just end it? Why couldn’t I flip the blade and ram it into her skull?

  Stella leaned her head back on my chest, moving against my pressed blade, uncaring that one sudden move from me would end her for all eternity. She pressed her lower back harder against me, and I’d be lying if I said holding her like this didn’t make me want to throw her to the ground and have her right here and now.

  I angled my neck down, watching her reaction as I drew the switchblade down her cheek. The flat edge, so I didn’t cut her, but the danger, the implication of what was to come, was present, which should’ve been enough. Any other person would’ve screamed, would’ve fought me, but Stella accepted it—and the way she leaned back into me, the soft moan that escaped her semi-parted lips when I moved the sharp metal to her throat, made me wonder if this one was more fucked up than I realized.

  Yes, she’d seen Jessica’s body and had hardly reacted, but this was on a whole different level. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the switchblade against her skin turned her on.

  Only one way to find out for sure.

  My grip around her chest tightened, and I took my time as I lowered the blade, trailing it against her skin. Down her collarbone, over her stomach after lifting it to pass my arms, stopping only when I reached the apex of her legs, where I had a feeling her cunt sat, dripping wet, wanting me to hurt her. Wordlessly asking me to sink my blade into her flesh and instill a type of pain she’d never before felt.

  I pressed the switchblade against her inner thigh, forcing her legs open. She didn’t shake, didn’t tremble once—but she did press herself against me further, grinding herself on me, caught between my body and the weapon.

  Fuck.

  She was driving me nuts and making me hard. My dick ached in my pants, and my mind needed no help in imagining fucking Stella. The woman was crazy. I could see why Ed liked her so much. I…I didn’t like her. I didn’t need her like Ed did. I wasn’t some hopeless romantic who thought he was missing something. She wasn’t mine.

  But, in that moment, strange and fucking ridiculous as it was, I wanted to make her mine. I craved her the exact same way Ed did, I slowly realized as I moved the switchblade to the area above where her clit lay. She only wore leggings, so I knew she could feel the cold of the blade through the thin fabric.

  Good. I wanted to make her suffer a bit, to make her see how badly she made me suffer.

  Goddamn it. I couldn’t kill her. I couldn’t. I just…how could I kill her when all I wanted to do was rip off her clothes and have at her like an animal? How could I kill her when I knew she was the drug Ed craved? Something that could look the hunter in the eye and show no fear was not prey. She was a hunter too, just in a different way.

  My will was not nearly as strong as I thought it was, and it crumbled away the longer I held the blade against her clit, even faster when she let out a breathy moan, too turned on to realize just how fucked up this situation really was.

  It didn’t matter how fucked up it was, because we were both fucking insane. We all were. Me, Ed, Stella. We were all mad, only in different ways. She was…well, I wasn’t the kind of guy who thought anyone could ever be perfect for someone else, but if there was a person for Ed and I, it would be Stella.

  Fucking Stella.

  The arm I used to hold her chest to me loosened, and my other hand traveled down, sliding beneath her leggings, touching her bare skin. Stella didn’t pull away, didn’t move an inch; maybe because of the switchblade I still held at her thigh, or maybe because she wanted me to touch her. Who the hell knew when it came to her? She was…wild and unpredictable didn’t cut it. She was different. She was more.

  She was so fucking wet.

  My fingers slid against her easily, her clit already a swollen nub that wanted more. I pushed a finger inside of her, basking in the way she gasped, as if she had no idea it was coming. Like my finger caught her off-guard. My hand moved along her, and she started to move her hips along with me, despite the blade on her thigh. I supposed I could put the switchblade away—but where was the fun in that?

  “You want more?” I asked, my voice the kind of low it only got when I knew I was about to screw someone’s brains out. She nodded against my chest, which was good; stopping would be far too hard now.

  The hand holding the switchblade returned to her face, pressing the flat edge of it against her cheek, turning her head to the side as I finger-fucked her glorious hole.

  “Good,” I murmured, “because you’re getting more. You’re getting it all.”

  My words, combined with my finger working her, pushed her over the edge. Stella shook in my hold, letting out a cry of pleasure. I held her up, kept her in place with the switchblade, my finger sliding out of her as I went to put my all focus on the little mound of swollen flesh at her apex.

  My dick throbbed, and I wanted to be selfish, to make her please me, but for some bizarre reason, I was feeling generous tonight. Maybe because I came here with the intent of killing her. What a fool I was.

  No, I had to show this woman that I was remorseful. I was sorry. That I wouldn’t do it again. Tonight, the only person getting on their knees would be me.

  I pulled away from her, taking both my hands away from her body before dragging her to the floor. The TV blared a newscast about a recently-found body, and I knew it interested Stella by the way she turned her head toward it, but I would do my damnedest to get her to pay attention only to me. No newscast. No story. No bodies except our own.

  I
left the switchblade beside her head, needing both my hands to yank her leggings off. Soon enough she was naked on the floor, all of her clothes tossed aside in a pile. Stella was too skinny; I could see her ribs more than I should, but she was a flawless specimen of a woman, even with those damned eyes.

  Running my hands up her inner thighs, her skin trembled slightly under my touch and I forced her legs open, viewing her wet sex in all of its glory. I wasted no more time. I bent down, my mouth meeting with her wet, pink folds, my tongue gliding along, around, my teeth grazing just slightly enough to stimulate.

  And the sounds she made…the sounds that came from her throat were like music to my ears. Heavenly and harmonious, making me go at her harder, making me insert two fingers this time as my mouth focused on her soft, aching nub. I would make her come for me a dozen more times before I relented.

  This was as much a punishment for me as it was a pleasure for her. I’d come here to kill her, after all. I wouldn’t go so far as to say Ed was right in everything he said about her, but there was a connection between us, bodily contact aside. She was the right kind of psychopath. The cute kind. The kind that fit in our duo of mayhem perfectly, so he was right about that part.

  I took my time in learning what made her squirm, what made her cry out, and what made her squirt. Yes, she was a squirter, when stimulated the right way. How fun. I learned the grooves of her body, paying attention to things I didn’t care to look at before, like how her breasts were slightly uneven—but still gorgeous all the same. I inhaled the smell of her sex, tasted her, nipped at her inner thighs long before I lifted my head up to hers.

  The TV newscast about the found body was long over. The only thing Stella stared at with those fucking eyes was me.

  I still wanted to pluck those eyes out, but I would hold back. For Ed. For her.

  Being deliberately slow as I took off my clothes, I watched her watch me. For someone who was so strange, she sure had a sexy sultry face when it mattered. My dick perked up at the thought that this was a face reserved for Ed and me. This was our face, our expression, and no one else was allowed to have it.

  I crawled over her, about to say something about her being ready for my dick, but Stella once again stunned me by lifting her head off the floor and meeting me, pressing her lips against mine.

  She was kissing me.

  She was kissing me, and she started it.

  I wasn’t sure why it felt like such a huge deal, but it was. I knew it was.

  As I pushed my tongue into her mouth and taught her how adults played, I couldn’t help but wonder if she could taste her own juices on me. I didn’t wipe myself off once. Either way, she didn’t care. She was inept for the first few moments, but soon enough her tongue danced with mine, lighting a fire in my stomach. A fire that could only be put out with her pussy around my cock.

  I didn’t break our lip lock when I reached between us and grabbed myself. I hardly needed to position my dick; it was like it already knew where to go, what hole it had to fill. I did, however, pull my mouth from hers when I thrust inside her, pushing myself as deep in as I could go. She was so wet for me there was no resistance at all. Her body took it in, and her eyelids fluttered shut as she relished in the feeling of my dick pounding into her, how my balls slapped against her ass with each motion.

  God, I could go all fucking night with this woman, as long as I didn’t focus on the hue of her eyes. Those damn things, I wasn’t even sure whether I’d get used to them, but I’d have to try.

  Stella squirmed underneath me, her chest heaving with every thrust. We forgot about the world, about the reality of the situation. I nearly forgot all about the switchblade I’d held to her face and between her legs. The only reason I remembered it was there was because I set my arms around her head, blocking her head in with my forearms, drowning out everything else but me. She had to focus on me, just like I had to focus on her. My elbow knocked into the switchblade, and I pushed it aside, needing to feel the flat floor around us, to ground me.

  The pressure built too soon. Far too soon. I didn’t want it to happen so quickly, but I was powerless to stop the orgasm from taking hold of me, from milking my dick and having my cock release my seed inside Stella. I let out a moan before I could help myself, before I could stop myself, and I felt her hands move to my sides, her nails dragging along my skin.

  Oh, fuck.

  Yes.

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Stella

  How many times did Lincoln and I have sex? I wondered, laying on the floor with him. I laid partially on his chest, thick and muscled as it was, which was probably the closest I’d get to cuddling with either him or Edward. They didn’t seem like they enjoyed things like cuddling in general, and I couldn’t say I blamed them, because until now, I never thought I’d like it as much as I did.

  Having never had a boyfriend before, well, I was starting to like a lot of things I never enjoyed before. Cuddling, sex, being almost murdered. That last one especially—the rush of adrenaline that had coursed through my body when I’d realized why Lincoln was at my house, how narrowly he’d missed Callie—it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

  It was…invigorating. Like breathing in life itself. Knowing how easily he could’ve killed me, and technically knowing how easy he could still end my life, it was an indescribable kind of high. I rode the high waves all through the sex, and I still felt tingly in all the places I probably shouldn’t.

  But maybe that was because Lincoln was breathing evenly beneath my cheek while dragging the switchblade along my lower back, tempting me. Teasing me. The blade was short, only a few inches long, but sharp. As he dragged it back and forth, sometimes in circles, I couldn’t help but shiver against him, craving more.

  I knew it was a sick and twisted desire, not to mention how stupid I was for wanting a man who’d sooner kill me than admit any real feelings for me, but it seemed I couldn’t hold back when it came to Edward and Lincoln. They were my weakness, these two crazy, murderous madmen. They completed me.

  What did that say about me?

  What did that say about my state of mind?

  I’d always been fascinated with serial killers and the so-called dredges of society, but to actually have fallen into bed with the two of them, to willingly give myself to them over and over, knowing what they did, what they were capable of—it meant one thing: I was mad, too. I was just as crazy as they were, only less murderous. Less vengeful. Danger was like heroin to me.

  Eventually reality came crashing back, and I inhaled a deep sigh. Sweat and sex still lingered in the air, the telltale sign of what Lincoln and I did for the last…hour? Or two? I wasn’t sure; I couldn’t see a clock, so I couldn’t tell the time. We both should get up soon though, because who knew when Callie would get home.

  The last thing I wanted Callie to see was me and Lincoln naked and sweaty on the floor. Not just because it would’ve been embarrassing, but also because, after everything, I was suddenly so very selfish when it came to Lincoln. I did not want to share him with anyone else, didn’t want to find any other women in his bed, whether they were alive or not. Not again.

  He was mine now.

  Edward and Lincoln were mine.

  A similar thing must’ve been on Lincoln’s mind, for as he continued to trace my lower back with the switchblade, he whispered, “How was your date?” He practically growled out the final word, as if it was acid on his tongue, the hardest word he had to speak in years. His voice was still ragged and rough, just like it’d been during our intense, heated passions.

  How should I answer that? I debated, but I eventually decided just to say the truth, because I wasn’t a liar. Not a fan of lying in general. “We went out to dinner, but that’s it. Killian probably had a whole night planned, but I couldn’t stay with him, not after I got a notification another body was found.”

  As I spoke, I felt Lincoln fume beneath me, and I lifted my head a few inches off his chest to stare at him. Why was he getting so angry
? What had I said that was wrong? It wasn’t like Killian and I did anything. He didn’t make a single move on me—which was honestly something I could appreciate, after that fiasco of a Christmas party last year.

  “What is it?” I asked, when Lincoln only stared hard at the ceiling, like the drywall held all the answers.

  “I know Ed didn’t make a big deal about it before, but now…let’s just say, for Killian’s sake, you best not bring him up in front of him again,” Lincoln finally said. “Ed is a very jealous person. I’m surprised he didn’t go after Killian when you mentioned it. Then again, he did have work today—”

  I tried to picture Edward going after Killian with the intent of murdering him, all for me. All to keep me to himself. To him and Lincoln. I couldn’t though, and not because I had feelings for Killian—it was the farthest thing from the truth. I just…I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because, even though he was kind of an ass when he was drunk, I liked Killian. I just didn’t like him like that.

  “Killian is a good boss. Edward can’t kill him,” I said, aware that my defense of Killian wasn’t exactly stellar. It was a good thing Killian wasn’t around to hear my pathetic attempt at defending him.

  Letting out a short chuckle, Lincoln said, “I’ll try, but once he gets his mind set on something, it’s hard to convince him otherwise.” Still, he dragged the switchblade along my back, this time up my spine, and I shivered against him, leaning my face against his muscled chest.

  “You were going to kill me,” I said slowly, raking my nails across his chest. “Because you think he’s too obsessed with me.”

  “Yes. You’re not the first woman he’s had his sights on.”

  I didn’t like hearing that, and I frowned against his hot, sweaty skin.

  “They never end well. He either outgrows his obsession or I make him realize how fucking stupid he’s being. But you…you’re not like the others. You’re different. Fuck, Stella, I came here to kill you and I ended up fucking you like crazy. I can honestly say that’s never happened before.”