His Sinister Desire E-Book

Mia Kingsley

• Herausgeber: Black Umbrella Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 252

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

He is evil. He is dark. He is brutal. And I can't get enough of him.   My girlfriends want to find out who can seduce the new guy in the secluded house down the street. I only play along with it to keep up appearances, but his dark attraction gets the better of me. That's why I'm snooping around his backyard.      This is a mistake. A big mistake. The best mistake I have ever made.   This is a dark romance.

Leseprobe

HIS SINISTER DESIRE

MIA KINGSLEY

A DARK ROMANCE NOVEL

CONTENTS

His Sinister Desire

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

About the Author

HIS SINISTER DESIRE

He is evil. He is dark. He is brutal.

And I can't get enough of him.

My girlfriends want to find out who can seduce the new guy in the secluded house down the street. I only play along with it to keep up appearances, but his dark attraction gets the better of me. That's why I’m snooping around his backyard.

This is a mistake.

A big mistake.

The best mistake I have ever made.

This is a dark romance.

CHAPTER1

ERIN

On the Atlantic Beach Bridge, the traffic had come to a standstill. It was my own fault that I had gotten caught in the tourist traffic jam, but I had wanted to delay the annual summer visit to my parents for as long as possible.

The sun was beating down, and although it wasn't even noon, the thermometer showed 91 degrees, and the air conditioning was running at full blast. Nevertheless, I felt little beads of sweat on the back of my neck. I was wearing only a tank top and a pair of jean shorts, and my hair was tied up.

We continued at a snail's pace, and I was actually fine with making slow progress. Every minute that I didn't have to spend with my mother was welcome.

I drummed along with my fingers on the steering wheel as the first bars of Thomas Rhett's Get Me Some Of That played. The song reminded me of my ex-boyfriend.

My family would be thrilled when they heard that I had broken up with Mike. Another potential son-in-law gone—and his father was a politician. I could already hear my mother's nagging in my mind.

Finally, I reached the causeway, and the traffic sped up. I turned left toward Robin Avenue, the better corner of the island, where the roads were lined with mansions, and household employees outnumbered homeowners.

Most of the other cars headed to Ocean Drive, where hotels and vacation homes crowded together. Almost all the properties here belonged to my family, the Riddlesdales.

The rest of the properties were in the hands of the Lorenzo family, who tended to operate on the other side of the law. Their criminal ambitions were widely known and didn't stop anyone from doing business with them—least of all, my father.

The big black gate to my parents' property came into view. Mother would be delighted when she saw my new car. The instruction to buy myself a new one had come on my birthday and was the highest form of love in my family.

I was sure that my mother had in mind an elegant Mercedes convertible in which a lady of the world could be seen, ideally in an elegant and rudimentary feminine color like white or silver.

It was with great pleasure that I had bought a black Ford Mustang and grinned practically the whole way here, looking forward to seeing her face.

To make sure she didn't miss my arrival, I let the engine rev unnecessarily before parking the car.

Apparently, she had been waiting for me because she was standing at the front door, wrapped in a coral-colored outfit, her lips pressed tightly together. I took my suitcase, the garment bags, and my backpack out of the trunk.

As I approached her, I pushed my sunglasses onto my head. As I'd suspected, she had once again treated herself to a new nose.

"Erin," she said.

"Mother," I replied before receiving a breathy peck on the cheek.

Her disapproving gaze slid down me. No high heels, no skirt, no healthy tan, and hardly any makeup—in her eyes, I was failing on all counts.

"Where's Mike?"

"We broke up." I pushed past her to get into the cool interior of the house. My pale skin was not doing well at all in the scorching sun.

"Why?" She hadn't sounded half as upset when I'd fallen off my bike at 13 and broken my left arm in two places.

"Because I caught him in bed with someone else." I neglected to mention that he had practically fled from me because he thought I was frigid.

Mother rolled her eyes. "You could have forgiven him for such a little thing."

"Why? Because his family is so influential?"

As always, when I said something she didn't want to hear, my mother just glossed over it. "There are some important events in the next few weeks that we will be attending together. I took the liberty of hanging some dresses in your room. I'm not so sure about the size now, though." With a critical expression, she stared at my round hips, then at my chest.

I mockingly twisted my mouth. "How am I supposed to find a new man without a decent amount of ass and tits?"

She gasped. "Erin Charlotte Riddlesdale! You shouldn't speak like that! Go to your room!"

"I was on my way there anyway. Are you going to forbid me from dinner now, too?"

Mother turned on her heel and stumbled into her parlor. She would probably calm her nerves with a glass of bourbon after this grueling encounter. Maybe she would even pop a Vicodin. After all, I had used naughty words.

In my room, it didn't look like I'd been gone for seven months—Christmas, after all, had been another mandatory visit.

If I didn't show up regularly, I was blocked from accessing my trust fund, which I wouldn't get until my 25th birthday. Three more years of smiling for family photos and presenting an ideal life. After that, I'd drain the account and head for the East Coast. As the sun's rays flickered outside my bedroom window, I imagined an East Coast winter and the taste of snowflakes on my tongue.

When I opened the closet, I gagged at the dresses in shades of apricot, salmon, tangerine, and piss yellow. And they were all size eight.

I almost laughed out loud. Even if I didn't eat anything at all for the whole summer, I would be as far away from a size eight as I was from Mars.

But this year, I had been smart and had taken precautions. To avoid once again having to walk around wearing satin bows and silver sequins in places where, in my opinion, no glitter belonged, I had bought myself a few dresses. Unlike my mother's, they were my size and in colors that suited my strawberry blonde hair: dark blue, charcoal gray, and forest green. The saleswoman had gushed with enthusiasm about how well the colors suited me, and although I had a fairly realistic self-image, I had been inclined to agree with her.

I put my laptop on the desk, sat down, and stared out at the dense hedge that shielded our property from the neighboring property. Three houses away was the home of Vincent Lorenzo, the youngest member of the family who owned the rest of the properties in this area.

He had just moved back here and didn't know me, and I'd planned to pass the summer spying on him and finding out as much as I could about his family. It would be a great project for my journalism degree. I had a particular interest in organized crime and even found the structures charming at times.

If I could wrap Vincent around my finger, maybe I would learn some inside information that no one else had. With a soft sigh, I dreamed of a tell-all book with my name on the cover. My mother would surely have a heart attack.

My cell phone vibrated in my backpack.

3 p.m. Kirsten's House. Bring a good mood. We'll take care of everything else. ;) xoxo

This time I sighed in annoyance.

My girlfriends were as much a part of Atlantic Beach as my mother. I spent time with them because it was expected of me, and it made my life easier—not because I wanted to.

I had learned early on that I raised fewer eyebrows if I just went with the flow to a certain extent. So I chose to be the boring friend, instead of the girl who was at the therapist's because her mother worried that she didn't have any friends.

I had already been through that. At university, I had my peace and quiet, but here I had to pretend that I was a sociable person who was interested in parties and girlfriends.

* * *

"Oh my God! It's divine," Beth exclaimed before taking a drag and handing me the joint.

Kirsten held up the silver dress, and even I had to admit that it was beautiful. It would also flatter my body shape, although I was nowhere near as slim as my friends.

Since no one was paying attention to me, I simply passed the blunt to Jennifer, who took it from me without looking at me. Her eyes were glued to the designer's creation.

Kirsten grinned to the crowd. "We've come up with a little competition to decide who gets to wear the dress to the Sundown Party."

I would've liked to bury my face in my hands and groan in agony. When Kirsten starts a sentence with these words, it can only end in disaster. In my last year of high school, we had almost all been kicked out of school because she had started a graffiti contest. I'd only participated because I knew we would get caught, and my mom would freak out. Both of those things happened.

In reality, we were too old for such nonsense.

"At the end of Davis Boulevard, a really sexy guy has moved in—you know, into the old Auburn house. Whichever of us seduces him gets to wear the dress."

A murmur of agreement arose, and I nodded. This, at least, was one task I could easily fake my way through. I would drive there, ring the bell, use the stupidest excuse I could think of, and be sent away.

I refrained from pointing out to my friends that I was the only single person in the room. What was it to me?

The Sundown Party was the most important social event of the season, hosted by my mother. For me, it marked the end of the summer because the next day, I always turned my back on the island. I used to go back to boarding school, but now I go to university.

"We'll roll the dice to decide in what order we get to try," Jennifer suggested. She filled up the shot glasses with Jägermeister and pushed them in our directions.

"Here's to summer," Beth said, raising her glass.

"Here's to summer!" we replied in unison.

The alcohol burned in my throat, and the taste of herbs made me sick. I couldn’t wait for the fucking summer to be over.

"So, Erin, who are you going to the party with?"

I reached for my water bottle to rinse the taste from my mouth. "Not with Mike, that's for sure."

They burst out laughing as if I had never said anything funnier.

"Oh, I've missed your dry sense of humor." Anna patted my thigh.

Humor? That had been meant seriously. I suppressed a sigh. Couldn't at least one of them be a little more like me? Except for our parents' financial status and age, I had nothing in common with them. All three of them studied art history because it looked nice on their resume before they got married.

But sitting around drinking was still better than discussing why I wasn't going out with my mother. After all, she was still hoping that the girls would eventually have a good influence on me. As we all know, hope is the last thing that dies.

I was handed the dice. A six. Dutifully, I made a face as if I was annoyed that I was the last to go, but I couldn't have cared less.

However, my friends were good for one thing: information.

"So, Vincent has returned to the island?" I casually threw into the room.

Immediately they were on fire.

"Sexy. Damn sexy," Anna muttered and stretched out her arm for Kirsten to give her the joint.

"And no girlfriend," Jennifer added. "Who knows, maybe you can go to the party with him. I'm sure he'd appreciate a nice pair of tits."

I smiled thinly as Beth snorted. "Like John. He's been begging me to get them enlarged for months now."

How nice of her boyfriend, I thought to myself before retreating into my own world. So Vincent Lorenzo didn't have a girlfriend—maybe that actually played right into my plan.

CHAPTER2

TREVOR

The way the knife slid through the expensive cut of meat almost drove me crazy. I had known right away that it was a stupid idea to invest in this exquisite knife set. It teased my senses and made me imagine what it would be like to try the blade on a completely different kind of meat...

I missed my job, and constantly reminding myself of what I was missing wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Everything had been going well for the last year. I had had my demons under control. But for the last few weeks, I'd been feeling the restlessness becoming stronger, the desire tingling in my fingertips.

This goddamn island offered no distraction whatsoever. I had only moved here in the first place to avoid the temptation to kill. After all, there were so few people living here that it would be noticeable if anyone disappeared.

And I'd never had a thing for hookers or hitchhikers.

With a sigh, I turned to the sink to wash my hands. My mind was elsewhere, and I turned on the faucet too far only to have it spray my face and shirt. Annoyed, I wiped my face dry. I really needed to fix this thing—I just hadn't figured out how to do it yet.

My shirt was dripping, and I promptly took it off. With it being 97 degrees in the shade today, it was too warm for clothes anyway.

I was looking for the oil to prepare the marinade when the doorbell rang.

For a second, I froze. Very few people knew I lived here, and I certainly hadn't invited anyone over. I took one of the smaller knives and hid it behind my back.

Squinting through the window, I saw that a young blonde in a knee-length summer dress was standing in front of the door.

Jesus! Again? How many of these nutjobs were running around here? Did they really think I didn't know what they were up to? They were constantly showing up at my place, one after another. Alleged car trouble, asking for directions, or needing to use a phone—the excuses to enter my house couldn't have been more stupid. The tops and skirts had gotten skimpier and tighter with each new visitor. Until now. This one wore a light blue summer dress that couldn’t hide the size of her tits and gently hugged her curves just enough to make me curious to see what was underneath.

I yanked open the door and glared at her.

Her blue eyes widened in fright, as if she had expected something other than me, and I couldn't deny that her fear excited me.

She wasn't quite as skinny as her predecessors and was a bit taller. Nevertheless, she only came up to my chin. I also realized that her hair was not just blonde, but a beautiful strawberry blonde.

Something about her was different. The other girls had been confident and cocky. They had posed on my porch as if I had been waiting my whole life just for them.

Obviously, they had some kind of competition going on between them to win me over— it was the only way to explain their persistence.

"My car broke down." Her dark voice strained my nerves as it sent a shiver trickling down my spine. She was trying to look anywhere but at my naked torso. Your bad luck, princess, I thought. If you rang the bell at a stranger's door, you couldn't expect the occupant to open it wearing a three-piece suit—as she was probably used to, since I could smell the old money on her.

She probably didn't realize it, but she took a step backward as she spoke. She was afraid of me. I could almost smell it.

It would be so easy to grab her and drag her into the house with me that I almost gave in to the impulse. Just the idea of how she would react almost gave me a hard-on. I really had to pull myself together. It wouldn't be a good idea to let her in the house. There was so much I would have liked to do with her—from fucking to killing, it was hard to pick a favorite.

It didn't escape my notice that she was eyeing me furtively as I looked past her at the brand-new black Ford Mustang that was parked in the driveway. Did she really think I was that stupid? I seriously doubted that the car had really broken down, especially in such a convenient place.

Nevertheless, I took the opportunity to step closer. She backed away until she was standing with her back against the railing, clutching at it with her fingers. Unfortunately, this meant that I couldn’t get a closer look at her butt.

Her scent rose to my nose and tickled my senses. Desire pulsed through my veins as I stood close to her, and I could see directly into her cleavage. Her tits rose and fell quickly, her pulse raced, and she swallowed hard.

Before I lost control, I turned abruptly and went back into the house. I carefully hid the knife and growled, "It's time you took your stupid game somewhere else." Then I threw the door shut.

As if I hadn't been agitated enough, I now felt completely electrified. My bloodlust had awakened, and I didn't know how to appease it. I threw the knife on the countertop and resisted the impulse to go outside again and get the girl.

Since the princess made no move to leave the porch, I thought it best to put as much distance between us as possible before I did something hair-raisingly stupid.

I could not comprehend what it was about her that provoked this reaction in me. With the other women, I had simply slammed the door, but this time I had let myself be carried away enough to smell her.

This was not good. Not good at all.

I opened the door to the garden and walked barefoot across the lawn. Previously, I wasn't sure if I had a green thumb, but now gardening soothed me. I had planted everything here myself, including the tall hedge of false cypress, which had cost me a small fortune. But thanks to this, my property was not visible from the back apart from the small garden gate.

But today, even the most beautiful flowers didn't help. I paced around restlessly and tried not to think about how her pupils had dilated. Damn, she had even trembled...

The memory of how she had backed away from me gave me an erection. I couldn't help myself—I just had a weakness for fear.

Maybe I just needed to get rid of my pent-up frustration. I recalled how she had looked at me, and the blood rushed to my cock. I slightly regretted not having pulled her to me at least once. I could imagine how her luscious body would have felt against mine.

With a suppressed moan, I opened my pants and fisted my cock. As I closed my fingers around the hardness, I wished for the little princess, imagining that my hand was hers.

I pumped into my fist, the excitement clenched hot in my abdomen. She had smelled so good, and how her pulse had raced...

Damn, I thought. In a moment, I was ready. I imagined her crouching on the floor, looking up at me from below, her blue eyes wide open. Those beautiful eyes!

My balls contracted when I heard the squeak of the garden gate. Out of my aversion to uninvited guests, I had deliberately not oiled the hinges so intruders couldn't enter unannounced.

It was better to be safe than sorry.

My head flew to the gate, and I couldn't believe it. Apparently, the princess had gathered all her courage and decided to rummage through my garden. I was standing close to the hedge, and she hadn't noticed me yet.

Her gaze slid across the house and landed on me. She flinched so hard that she stumbled over the slightly raised threshold of the garden gate and landed on all fours in front of me.

For the first time in my life, I was inclined to believe in God because my prayers had just been answered. Her gasp made my cock throb, and while I continued to massage it leisurely, I didn't take my eyes off her.

Fearfully, she looked up at me but made no effort to stand up. I knew it wasn't a good idea—and yet I said, "Open your mouth."

No one could blame me for not holding back in this situation. She was too damn seductive for that.

I expected her to jump up indignantly and run away, but she obeyed and slid closer.

It took some restraint for me not to cum immediately and cover her face with my sperm.

On the porch, she had acted as if I had threatened her life, but now she willingly licked her lips and took my cock in her mouth.

Breathlessly, I watched her swallow it whole. Her hair felt just as silky as I had imagined.

She gagged slightly as I pushed against her throat, and I put my hand around the back of her head so she couldn't avoid me. I didn't know when I'd last been so horny.

Recklessly I pushed myself deeper and deeper, and the tight, warm feeling made me shiver. She did not resist, only whimpering softly, although I could clearly feel her gagging on my glans.

As she looked at me from below, her blue eyes wide open, I noticed a tear running down her cheek.

That was the last push I needed. I pulled her so close to me that her face was nearly glued to me, and I felt myself twitching in her throat and spurting my cum into it.

After she had swallowed the last drop, I let my cock slide out of her mouth. She coughed and gasped for air, but amazingly she didn't say a word. No reproaches, no screaming. Instead, she just stared at me. It's likely that neither of us could believe what had just happened.

I had to admit that the situation was overwhelming me.

I also realized that I had made a mistake. Now that the intoxicating lust was slowly wearing off, I realized that I had gotten out of control and acted irrationally.

Wealthy politicians, rich industrialists, and even richer criminals lived here. I didn't know if she was the wife, girlfriend, or daughter of anyone who could and would make my life hell once she spilled the beans about what had taken place here.

Anger pulsed in my ears. Except for a high, shrill whistling sound, I heard nothing more.

After stowing my cock back in my pants, I grabbed her upper arm and dragged her toward the gate. "Get out of here," I hissed, hoping my aggressive behavior was enough to scare her into keeping quiet about what just happened.

Fuck!

Even after I let go of her, I could still feel her silky skin under my fingers.

She stared at me for a few seconds, then followed my command. A minute later, I heard the Mustang's engine roar and realized that I had been holding my breath. Fuck!

In the future, I would make sure to lock the garden gate.

CHAPTER3

ERIN

My hands were shaking so badly that I could hardly get the key into the lock. As if my restlessness was being transferred to the car, the engine howled when I pressed the accelerator pedal far too hard. With 300 horsepower, the sound could probably be heard for miles, but it seemed that my heart was pounding even louder.

Shit! What had just happened? Why had my curiosity made me think it would be a good idea to take a look in his fucking garden?

I almost missed the red light on the main road. My pulse raced, and my knees burned. When I looked down, I noticed the green grass stains on my scraped skin. I hadn't looked like this since I was a kid, playing too wildly.

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. Wild was probably the right word to describe him. His taste was still on my tongue, and I didn't even know his name. The doorbell had been labeled "Smith," but that ordinary last name didn't seem to fit him at all.

What had gotten into me and made me willingly open my mouth?

The car behind me honked because the light had turned green. When I turned, they honked again because I hadn't even put on my turn signal. I was completely beside myself.

Fortunately, I was only a few minutes away from home because I really should not be driving in this condition.

I sighed with relief as I waited for the big gate to slide aside so I could park.

"Excited" wasn't enough to describe the full extent of what I was feeling. There was a throbbing between my thighs, and I couldn't deny that I was aroused. I had never been so horny in my life.

Shouldn't I have been more outraged and angry?

Bullshit.

I had slid closer, and he had done nothing more than ask me to open my mouth. If I wasn't completely stupid, I would have just run away instead of letting him...

Geez. My cheeks turned fiery red, and when I looked in the rearview mirror, I noticed a feverish gleam in my eyes. I couldn't go into the house like this. The throbbing in my pussy had intensified at the memory.

I rubbed my knees to at least remove the roughest traces. I had wanted to wear a short skirt to the party tonight—I would have to pick another outfit now.

For ten minutes, I stared out the windshield and counted my breaths until I got myself halfway back under control, then I got out and grabbed my bag from the passenger seat. I didn't know why I had dragged my laptop with me.

I looked around the entrance hall, but I couldn't see my mother anywhere, so I hurried up the stairs. I could hardly explain to her how I had stumbled and scraped my knees.

Besides, she would then give me another one of those lectures about how I needed to take better care of my body, as if I were nothing more than a pretty broodmare. Every scrape diminished my marriage prospects.

Two more years until I was old enough to empty the trust fund and live my own life, away from North Carolina and Atlantic Beach.

I had not yet reached the safety of my room when I heard her voice.

"Erin. You're back already?"

"Yes. I just had to run a quick errand. Now I want to rest a little. Tonight's the party, after all."

Her features smoothed out as I glanced over my shoulder.

"Oh, it's nice that you're looking to connect. The party at Eric's, right? Bridget told me about it at Sunday brunch. Cedric will be there, too. Will you say hello to him for me?"

I suppressed a snort. "Yes, Mother."

When her clacking heels moved away, I climbed the rest of the stairs with relief and went to my room. This damn island. Bridget was the host's mother, and so I couldn't do anything on this piece of land without my mother knowing about it. After all, she was the Queen of Society, so to speak. What a disappointment it must have been for her that I neither wanted to get married nor fit into a size small. She could have bragged about me so wonderfully, but instead, I used my mind for studying and not for chasing men.

For a second, I had been seriously worried she was going to join me to pick out an outfit for tonight to help me make a good impression.

Contrary to my mother's belief, I was not an idiot and could clearly understand her messages. She would much rather I throw myself mercilessly at Cedric and ultimately marry him. For months she had been mentioning how well our families would complement each other at every convenient opportunity. I was being pushed in the acceptable direction, and my temporary relationship with Mike hadn't changed that.

In my room, I locked the door, put down my laptop, and tore off my clothes. I couldn't possibly wait any longer.

After lying down on the bed, I spread my legs and ran my hand over my stomach and down between my legs. I was wet.

God, he hadn't even had to make an effort, and I was literally leaking, whereas I'd always struggled to get wet with my last boyfriend.

I recalled the stranger’s tall, muscular figure as I stroked my swollen clit.

I would never have expected him to come to the door shirtless, completely robbing me of the ability to speak.

I had only gone to him out of peer pressure. I hadn't felt like seducing anyone, but my girlfriends would have found it weird if I hadn't gone along.

Doubtless, somebody would have spread the word until my mother heard about it, and since the incident with Mike, I couldn't afford any more transgressions lest I give her a reason to change the contract to my fund. One additional clause—for example, that I had to be married to get it—was all that would be needed.