Page 264 of Coal Hearts

But...I didn’t have to pretend anymore.

I was a rich son of a bitch, and...for the first time in my sorry excuse of a life, I was brave enough to call myself a sadist.

Sadist.

I chuckled as I ripped off another hunk of bread.

Sadist...

What exactly did that word mean?

I’d never really bothered to look it up.

All I knew was it meant someone who got off on inflicting pain or humiliation on others. Well...if that was the true definition, I’d been doing that my entire life. To myself. But at least the masochistic part of me was dead and buried and this morning was just. So. Fucking. Glorious.

Reaching for the sweating butter, I added another curl just as thirty jewels, in boxers, negligees, and nakedness, tumbled out of Victor’s castle and tripped into the garden. In a flurry of feet, they darted to the front of the deck and kneeled, one by one, into a tidy horizontal line with bowed heads and praying hands.

Victor strolled out from the banquet room that spilled with its many open doors onto the deck, his right hand holding a plate topped high with sugary treats. Behind him, the huge dining room with carved architraves and exquisite works of erotic art, held a buffet fit for a court of a hundred kings, offering delicacies from roasted pheasant to saffron-infused scrambled eggs.

His team of waitstaff inconspicuously kept everything flowing, even with quite a few men selecting their favourite dishes. The barista who hand-delivered my latte—the perfect accompaniment to my fresh-out-of-the-oven baguette—must’ve roasted the beans in fucking heaven because I’d never tasted such a fine brew.

Everything tastes better when you’re free.

I smirked.

Fuck yes, it did.

And the best part?

I wouldn’t be seeing any of it later.

My pathetic sickness was over.

Resting his plate of mini pastries on my table, Victor slipped his hands into his silver slacks and strolled to the edge of the deck. Rocking on his heels, he surveyed his jewels as if they truly were sheep who’d been drawn into a tight flock.

Halfway down the line, my gaze snagged on Ily.

My heart quickened.

Desire pricked my veins.

Her skin glowed in the golden sunshine, highlighting a few ugly band-aids hiding the cuts I’d given her. She kept her chin low and eyes hooded. Her blue-black hair shimmered with sapphires but looked unkempt.

Shifting forward in my chair, I narrowed my eyes.

In fact, blood still smudged her in places. A perfect crimson fingerprint on her left breast where I’d squeezed as I’d driven my tongue inside her.

She hasn’t showered.

If someone shone a blacklight on her, they’d see streaks of my cum between her legs.

I’m still inside her.

My cock rose.

I pressed it down.

Last night had been the best orgasm of my life; I wanted another.