"It's me," she gasps as I fuck her brutally. "This is who I am, David."
"You're sick. You need help. Tell me where you are, I'll come get you."
I take the phone from her, never stopping my thrusts. "She's busy right now, David. Call again, and I'll have you killed."
I hang up and toss the phone aside, focusing on destroying Selene properly.
I fuck her on the desk until she's screaming, then bend her over it to take her from behind. The plug makes her even tighter, every thrust pushing against it.
"Who owns you?" I demand, fisting her hair.
"You! Cassius, you own me!"
"Who's the only one who can make you come?"
"You, Sir, only you!"
I reach around to work her clit, and she explodes, convulsing so hard she nearly blacks out.
I follow her over, filling her completely, marking her inside as thoroughly as I've marked her outside.
The afternoon continues with me showing her more of my world.
I take her to the warehouse where shipments come in, let her see the scope of my operations.
She watches me inspect weapons, drugs, everything that makes my empire run. She doesn't flinch. If anything, she seems fascinated.
"This is what you really are," she says, watching me check a shipment of automatic weapons. "A king of the underworld."
"Does that frighten you?"
"It should." She moves closer, the bells chiming. "But it doesn't. It makes me want you more."
My phone rings.
Vincent.
"We found who's pulling the records. Rebecca Torres, investigative journalist. She's doing a piece on unsolved murders for the anniversary. And Cassius—she's specifically interested in the daughter. Someone tipped her that Selene's been seen at Purgatory."
I step away from Selene, lowering my voice. "Handle the journalist."
"Permanently?"
"Discretely. Make it look like an accident."
"And the source?"
"Find them. I want to know who's talking about my business."
I end the call to find Selene watching me with those dark eyes.
"You're going to kill someone," she says. Not a question.
"Does that bother you?"
She considers the weight of what I'm asking her. "It should. But nothing about you bothers me anymore. You could tell me you killed a hundred people, and I'd still kneel at your feet."
If only she knew she's kneeling for the man who killed the two people who mattered most to her.
