The Devil's Crown-Part One: All The Pretty Things Trilogy Spin-Off

by Monica James

  She nods, gagging on my cock as she takes me deeper.

  “Then I will speak it whenever you wish,” I promise, falling deeper under her spell.

  She uses her tongue like a wicked tool, cupping it around the underside of my cock and dragging upward toward my head, where she suckles me like a lollipop. I am so lost to the feeling of her pleasuring me that I don’t realize her suction begins to tighten around me until she uses her teeth to bite down.

  It stings, and when she doesn’t let go, I realize this was a trap, one I fell for.

  “What are you planning on doing down there?” I coolly ask, peering at her.

  She gazes up at me, those long lashes framing her brilliant eyes. She wants to speak, but her mouth is currently disposed.

  “You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full, pet.” I gently stroke over her chin with my thumb.

  She hasn’t thought this through. Negotiating with my cock in her mouth was not a smart move on her behalf. But when she bites down harder, she reveals talking was never on the agenda.

  The pain is excruciating, but I don’t falter. I allow her to assert her dominance because it’s about to be taken away. When she loosens her grip, I cup the back of her head and coax her deeper onto my length. She gags, slapping my legs because she’s choking.

  She’s already displayed her ability to take me deep, which is why I know she can take it, so I continue to feed her my cock. “Relax your throat, красавица.”

  I stroke my fingers over her cheek, encouraging her to do as I say, and when she does, I hit the back of it. “That’s it.”

  Tears leak from her eyes, but she takes me deeper, humming around my length. Was her plan of attack to bite off my cock and run? But we both want this, and I am done fooling around.

  Letting her go, she pulls back, gulping in mouthfuls of air. As much as I enjoy seeing her on her knees, I yank her up and slam my mouth over hers. Her mouth is wet and welcoming as she kisses me back fiercely. Standing on her toes, she threads her hands through my hair and tugs—hard.

  We’re like desperate, starved animals pawing at one another, wanting to rip the other apart.

  With lips still locked, I walk her backward, spinning her around and bending her over the front of the altar. I want to disrobe her, but I know how intricate a sister’s habit is, and I can’t wait that long. Sweeping the gold cross and candleholders to the floor, I clear the space I intend to defile in ways it’s never seen before.

  She stretches her arms overhead, gripping the far edge for support. Lifting her gown, I take a moment to appreciate her red underwear before I tear them off. “Spread your legs, Sister.”

  She does as I ordered, arching her back and angling her hips, offering me a gift too generous for words. Pulling down my pants, I place my hands on either side of her waist and align my cock with her sex. I don’t have any protection, and I know she doesn’t either.

  But the moment I feel her heat, I don’t care. I know she’s ready, so looking up at the crucifix above us, I claim Sister Arabella as mine and mine alone.

  I don’t sink in slowly, allowing her time to adjust. In one slick movement, I’m sheathed inside her heat, and I never want to leave.

  “Oh, god!” she cries, her fingers clawing at the marble.

  Her pleas feed my soul, and I start to move.

  Anchoring her hips, I pump in and out of her, humming in ecstasy as I’d forgotten how good this feels. She stands on her toes, wanting to align us, and when she does, I bend my knees, changing the angle and plummeting in deep.

  She turns her cheek, resting it against the marble, her body jarring upward with each thrust of my hips. Her sex grips me tight, milking my cock, and I know it won’t be long until I come.

  Spreading a cheek, I peer down at our connection—at the way our bodies unite and how we fit. Ella’s pleasured whimpers are driving me crazy because that gratification is because of me. I haven’t made someone moan that way in a long time.

  My strokes are punishing, but the way she bounces back on my length, I know she likes it.

  “Please, I want to come,” she groans, grinding her ass against me. “It’s been s-so long.”

  I understand why she’s said this. The last time she was at the pinnacle of letting go, I denied her. But I’ll never do that again.

  After today, I know that staying away won’t be possible. I vow to honor and protect her because she is the spark I’ve been missing. With her, everything seems more vibrant—flavors sweeter, colors brighter. I am lost to her, and if she turns me away, I don’t think I’ll survive it.

  “Aleksei?” she begs, speeding up her movements and rolling her hips to milk her pleasure from my aching cock.

  “Yes, красавица?” I taunt, enjoying her pleading.

  When I speed up the momentum, her body grows lax as I dominate every inch of her. The noises spilling from her parted lips and the sounds created by our union are ones I want to hear from her every day.

  “What does that mean?” she pants, slowly looking over her shoulder at me.

  It’s an endearment which can mean a lot of things, but to me, it means…

  “Beautiful,” I reply, slowing the drive of my thrusts. “Or baby.”

  Her entire body quivers around me, and her already flushed cheeks redden further.

  “You can be really…sweet when you want to be.”

  With a smirk, I show her how sweet I can be when I reach around her hip and begin to play with her swollen clit. She continues to lock eyes with me, trembling and hot in my hand. I circle her bundle of nerves and begin to pick up the pace once more.

  She rocks against me, taking me deep, and when I lean down to kiss her, she explodes around me. Her cries of passion vibrate through me as I don’t let her lips go. I devour her with my fingers, my cock, my mouth.

  I am everywhere, and I never want it to end.

  She comes with a passioned whimper, her body writhing wildly. The warmth, the energy pulsating through her sucks me in, and the familiar carnality tackles me from behind.

  Arching my head back, I peer into the heavens, and when the last tremor rocks her body, I pump my hips once, twice, and pull out, spilling my seed onto her ass with a sated roar. My orgasm is so fierce that I grip the altar, needing something to hold on to.

  Once I’m done, I slide the altar cloth off to clean Ella.

  My heart beats wildly, and I can barely catch my breath. I don’t remember feeling this way before.

  Once she’s cleaned, I scrunch the material into a ball and drop it onto the floor. I tuck myself into my pants, my fingers shaking as I do up my zipper.

  I was never one for conversation after sex, but I suddenly want to ask Ella if she’s all right. She’s slumped over the altar, panting. She arches her head backward, peering up at the crucifix above her.

  “Yes, I’m afraid He saw our sins,” I say, wanting to break the silence. If she regrets what we did, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  She comes to a slow stand and turns around, casting her eyes downward.

  “Hey,” I say. Stepping forward, I gently place my finger under her chin, encouraging her to look at me.

  A small smile touches her lips, which settles my nerves. “I’m sorry I ripped up your postcard. I shouldn’t have done that. I was jealous,” she confesses. “As I was with Renata. She follows you around like a lost puppy, washing your SUV and staring at you with stars in her eyes. I hate it.”

  Her jealousy means she cares; it means she feels this too.

  “You have nothing to be jealous of, Ella. She has something I need.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “She will lead me to my half-brother. And my mother.”

  “And when she does? What happens then?”

  I suppose it’s time she knows the whole truth. “And then I kill them both for betraying me. Have I said too much?”

  Ella bites her lip. “Alek, don’t think of me as perfect or fragile. I’m not.”

&nbs
p; “Neither am I,” I reply.

  I wait for her to share her sins, but she clams up. I can read the signs. She has done something monumental. Something she is ashamed of.

  When she is ready, she will share what that is. But now, I feel she wants to deal with something else she is ashamed of. She has committed the ultimate sin—and I know she liked it, liked it a lot—so what does this mean for us?

  Looking at the sad, torn-up postcard discarded on the carpet, I realize I don’t feel guilty for what I’ve done. I thought I’d never find another woman who could capture my heart like Willow. But I was wrong.

  Whenever I’m with Ella, Willow’s memory still burns, just not as brightly as it once did. Willow will always be a part of me, but for so long, she didn’t just own a part—she owned all of me. It’s time I let her go.

  Needing to do one last thing, I pick up the pieces of the postcard and put them in my pocket. Gently gripping the back of Ella’s head, I draw her toward me and kiss her forehead. I then turn and leave.

  She doesn’t follow because she knows this isn’t goodbye.

  It’s just the beginning.

  Unlocking the door, I walk through the hallway, unsure of the time. Once again, I’ve been stuck in a time warp with Ella. It’s dark out, and the corridor is quiet. I exit through the back door and make my way toward my SUV.

  Willow’s postcard has been in my glove compartment for days, and I haven’t given much thought to it, which is astonishing, considering I was carrying the other around like it was my lifeline. Opening the door, I decide to approach this like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  With a deep breath, I open the glove compartment and am prepared to use the interior light to read over the message. But that won’t be happening because the postcard isn’t there.

  Confused, I retrace my steps because I’m certain I placed it in here. But as I rifle through the discarded receipts and fast food napkins, it’s clear that it’s no longer here.

  So now, the question is…who took it and why?

  “What do you think, Alek? Does the sign look okay here?” asks Sister Yali from the ladder.

  I, however, am no help because I’m currently looking at something else.

  Ella is feet away, setting the long dining table for tonight’s birthday celebrations. Her flushed cheeks and stolen glances alert me to the fact she’s aware of my gawking, but I don’t care.

  After being lost to her yesterday, I can’t mask how much I want her.

  However, no one can know of my desires because she’s still in her full habit. So I focus on Sister Yali, who is peering down at me from the top of the ladder.

  “A little to the left.” I gesture with my hand for her to move it a smidge. She happily does as I ask.

  The sisters are ecstatic to be doing this for Mother Superior. She is the head matriarch whether she wants to accept it or not. She is the glue that holds everything together, and although she’ll hate every minute of tonight’s surprise party, she’ll be touched by the effort.

  When Sister Yali turns to look at me with a smile, I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s even more crooked than before.

  “Looks wonderful, Sister.” She claps in excitement, causing the ladder to wobble. I race toward it to steady the legs.

  Ella’s soft giggles sound behind me, a punch to my very core.

  It’s a welcome distraction from the question plaguing me. Where is Willow’s postcard? I asked Irina if she took it as she was in my car, but she stared me straight in the eyes and promised she didn’t. I believe her.

  That only leaves one other person. Renata.

  She was alone in my car when I was talking to Pavel. She could have taken it then, but she was wearing a short summer dress, so she didn’t have room to conceal it. It wasn’t hidden in the Medovik box or the gift bag.

  Renata left them down in the basement, and when I looked inside—not searching for the postcard but out of curiosity—I saw only the honey cake, and a candle, and an extravagant silver ballpoint pen. I don’t know why she would take it anyway.

  It’s of no value to her.

  So, I’m back to my original question…who took it and why?

  My cell chimes, snapping me from this conundrum that seems to have no answer. When I see who the caller is, I don’t know whether to be relieved or concerned.

  “Hello, Santo.” I walk out of the room, mindful of Ella’s astute ear.

  “Hello, dear friend. Do you have time to come over today?”

  He’s phrased it as a question, but we both know this isn’t optional.

  “Yes, of course. I can come now?”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you soon.” And he hangs up.

  I knew this was coming, but I just don’t have time for this shit. I have enough of my own problems to deal with. However, I remind myself, by doing this, it’ll help with solving some of those problems, especially now that I know the truth about Renata.

  Sighing, I pocket my cell and wonder if I have time to down a few shots of scotch before I venture into the lion’s den.

  “Everything okay?”

  Spinning, I see Ella poking her head out the doorway, looking down the hallway to ensure we’re alone. When she sees that we are, she walks toward me and discreetly reaches for my hand.

  We’re playing with fire being open this way, but it appears she craves my touch as I do hers.

  “All is well, sweet красавица.”

  But she doesn’t buy it.

  “Who was on the phone?”

  “Just a friend. He asked me to come over.” I run my thumb along the tops of her knuckles.

  Her eyes flutter to half-mast. “I thought you didn’t have any friends.”

  Her attention to detail should worry me, but it doesn’t. It pleases me that she takes an interest in my life. “Come with me, Sister.”

  Her eyes widen, as she’s unsure what I want, but when I loop my fingers through hers and drag her down the hallway and toward the empty art room, she catches up to speed. The moment we’re inside, I close and lock the door, then slam her against it.

  My mouth is on hers, kissing her fiercely. I want to eat her alive.

  She fists my hair, whimpering into my mouth as her tongue lashes with mine. We are hungry for the other, and when I press my body into hers, the crucifix around her neck digs into my chest—a not so gentle reminder of what I’m doing, yet again.

  I’m rock hard, an automatic response whenever we’re coupled this way. I want her but without the habit and in my bed. Not a single bed unfit for vermin but a king-sized bed draped in silks and expensive cotton sheets.

  I want to call a palace, our home, because I want her. I know what I’m asking, but for us to be together, she has to give up so much.

  Our kisses grow sluggish before I pull away.

  Rubbing my nose against hers, I inhale, taking her in. “Don’t get me wrong, these covert rendezvous get me hard”—to prove my point, I lift her leg and hook it around my waist so she can feel just how much so—“but we can’t continue sneaking around this way.

  “Mother Superior is far from stupid. And doing this, no matter how good it feels, and красавица, it feels utterly fantastic”—I circle my hips, hitting her center while she whimpers—“is disrespecting her in her own home.”

  She bites her bottom lip, rocking her body into mine. She wants more, so more she will receive.

  Lifting her gown, it bunches between us, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be able to find this pussy blind. When I feel she isn’t wearing any underwear beneath her habit, I smirk, elated she was anticipating a tryst like this between us.

  I sink two fingers into her sex, hissing when I slide in deep, thanks to her arousal providing the perfect lubrication. She presses her foot into my ass, begging I go faster.

  “What are we going to do?” I present the question, needing to know her thoughts.

  “I-I don’t know,” she gasps, closing her eyes tight, lost to this pleasure we’re both f
eeling. But her response is a wake-up call I didn’t want to hear.

  She doesn’t know? Does this mean she’ll remain a sister, coming to me when she merely wants to get off?

  It would be most men’s dream for this to occur but not to me. I want her to choose me because I choose her. I want to see if this feeling is real outside these walls. Now, we’re acting on lust, but once that is gone, will this feeling of being consumed whole still be there?

  “You will remain here? Even after I’m gone?”

  She slowly opens her eyes, expressing my fears with a single look alone.

  She doesn’t know. This feeling between us isn’t enough for her to uproot her life and live it with me. She is conflicted, which means she’s unsure if there even is an “us.”

  “Alek—”

  I cut her off, not wanting to hear the pity in her voice. Then I kiss her wildly, pumping my fingers in and out of her sex, suddenly feeling like nothing but a tool, used solely for her pleasure.

  I got lost in a fairy tale yet again. Lost to a version of my life where I deserved to be happy. But the ghosts of my past won’t let me, and I suppose they’re right.

  She trembles in my hand, her body spasming when I circle her swollen bud with my thumb. Her orgasmic screams are muted by the hard press of my lips over hers. She comes wildly, kissing me like she cares…kissing me like I’m enough.

  But I know when her high fades, she will go back to pretending, untroubled with the lies, and that’s because I know now, I will never be enough for her. For anyone.

  Once she grows lax, I remove my fingers and sever our kiss. I leave her panting as I lick the fingers that were inside her seconds ago. Her sweetness almost convinces me that she cares. Almost.

  “You better go back out there. You wouldn’t want anyone to notice you’re missing.” I don’t overlook my sarcasm. I want her to know that I won’t be used whenever she has an itch that needs to be scratched.

  She reads the message loud and clear and steps to the side so I can exit. I’m disappointed it seems so easy for her to disengage. Unlocking the door, I don’t look back as I walk down the hallway, attempting to catch my breath.