Hate Like Honey (Corsican Crime Lord #2) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Corsican Crime Lord Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
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Biting back an ugly retort, I tear out of my clothes. He follows my actions with his gaze, not giving me a reprieve from his invasive stare.

When I’m naked, he says, “Get onto the bed on your hands and knees.”

I’m not getting out of this. He won’t let it go. I may as well just give him what I signed up for and, like he said, get it over with.

My lip curls as I get on the bed and look back at him. “Are you going to spank me again? Is that what you need to get hard? What does that make you, Angelo? A fucking sadist?”

The jab I aimed at his character is useless. He laughs it off, stepping up to the edge of the bed and tracing my opening with a finger.

The touch jolts me. My body jerks.

“Play with yourself,” he commands.

“Why?” I ask, infusing my tone with more snideness. “Does the show get you off?”

“I don’t want to milk my cock with a dry cunt.”

The crude words turn me cold inside even as heat pushes up in my neck. “Is it fun being an asshole?”

“Only to you.” He grabs his cock in his fist and pumps twice. “Get yourself wet, wife. It’ll be nicer for my dick, but you’re the one who’ll benefit most.”

I want to slap him so hard I have to fist my hands in the covers to prevent myself from attacking him again. He makes it difficult to hold on to my dignity.

“There’s a woman at the pleasure house,” he says when I don’t react. “She’s called in to prepare new brides for their wedding nights. Shall I call her? I’m sure she won’t mind coming out, despite the hour. I can watch while she gets your body ready. She’ll ask me which method I prefer. A lubricant will be quick. She’ll make sure to get it deep inside you. But watching her get you wet with a vibrator may be more fun.”

Tears burn behind my eyes. I face forward lest he notices. He’s trying to humiliate me, and he’s succeeding. I shouldn’t let him get to me. I simply shouldn’t think about it.

“Make your choice, Sabella.”

There is no choice. Slipping a hand between my legs, I touch myself with trembling fingers.

“Spread your legs,” he says. “Let me see if you’re getting the job done.”

He can fuck right off. Cringing inwardly, I set my knees apart and put myself on display like he wants. I give him the show he demands by rubbing my clit with two fingers pressed together.

As always, a spark of pleasure ignites at the touch. A glance over my shoulder almost stills me. He’s pumping into his fist while fondling his sac in his free hand. Lust burns hot in his black eyes as he watches my hand between my legs. Every perfectly cut muscle in his powerful body is taut, drawing a striking picture of masculinity. The wolves on his chest come alive, snarling viciously when those muscles bunch. Beneath his broad shoulders and hard pecs his washboard stomach is flat. The V of his groin runs deep. The cursive letters inked above his hipline sum him up in a single word. Resilience. Strong legs with big calves are well proportioned. The dark hair that covers his legs grows denser around his groin. His cock juts out proudly, the head already slick with pre-cum.

I don’t want the image to arouse me, but the heat spreading through my belly is an involuntary reaction. Finally, it’s not the ministrations of my own hand that turns me wet. It’s how my body responds to the visual sight of him getting himself ready. It’s simple nature, one body reacting to the arousal of another, and he’s not unaffected. He likes what he sees. I test the theory by sinking a finger inside, studying him from over my shoulder. His jaw bunches as he pumps faster into his fist. When I pull my finger out and slowly push deeper, he utters a growl.

His voice is guttural, rough like an animal’s. “You’ve gotten yourself so wet it’s dripping down your thighs.” He steps up and traces my crease with the head of his cock. “Such a dirty girl.” He fastens a hand on my hip. “Spread your legs wider and push out your ass. Show me what a good job you can do of presenting yourself for my cock.”

When I don’t move, he plants his hands on my inner thighs and pushes them apart as far as they can go. His cock brushes against my glute as he puts a palm between my shoulders and applies pressure. I have to pull my hand from between my legs to catch myself when he continues to press down until my upper body is flattened on the mattress.

“There,” he says. “Just like that. Fuck, Sabella. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”


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