Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1) Read Online A. Zavarelli

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Empire of Kings Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
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Short on that list is her fiancé, and as my eyes fall on her sleeping form in the bed, I have to wonder what soured their relationship. It’s one of many questions that have plagued me since I’ve allowed her to occupy my thoughts again. But as I catch sight of her engagement ring on the nightstand, my curiosity dies as swiftly as it sparked.

I don’t have a reason to be here. With the memory of my father’s final gasping breath still fresh in my mind, it’s a distraction at best. But I suppose I could use something to clear my mind. Right now—I’m in the mood for punishment.

I pick up Abella’s ring, examining the piece that’s the opposite of what I chose for her. The diamond is dull, small, and decidedly boring—just as their relationship has panned out to be. And yet…this is what she chose.

I return it to the nightstand and retrieve her phone, using the pin code to access it. As I scroll through her messages and emails, there’s nothing of note that I haven’t already seen. It doesn’t stop me from checking everything else anyway.

When I find her cycle tracking calendar, I take screenshots of the data and send them to my phone. Once that’s done, I open her Kindle app to see what the little deviant has been up to this week. As I scan the highlights she’s made in her most recent book, it serves as a reminder of how much the little liar’s preferences have changed over the years. Gone are the sweet, thoughtful heroes from her stories. In their place are men of a darker nature. Men who take, torment, and use the heroines. Admittedly, I haven’t been able to stop imagining myself as the man who uses her at his leisure.

There was a time when I questioned if she was capable of withstanding the darkness in me. She was far more delicate then—a Mafia princess raised to be polished, quiet, and obedient. But in my absence, she’s forged a backbone of steel and learned to speak her mind. Judging by her library, those aren’t the only things she’s changed.

As I read through a rough sex scene she saved, it triggers an unwelcome image of Matteo fucking her that way. For years, those thoughts have rattled around my brain. How many times has he touched what didn’t belong to him?

More importantly, did he forget that I like my revenge biblical?

My fingers skim the delicate curve of Abella’s neck before drifting to her beating pulse. I press against that space, wanting to inflict, even for a moment, a fraction of what I feel when I look at her.

Her eyes flutter open and settle on the balaclava obscuring my face. One glimpse into those pale green irises sends blood rushing to my traitorous cock.

She’s soft and drowsy—blinking through the fog of the sleeping pill she took earlier. A flicker of uncertainty ghosts across her face as she lingers between consciousness and a dreamlike state, wondering if her eyes deceive her. When she reaches out to touch me, my grip on her airway tightens.

“Is this real enough for you?”

One second stretches into the next as she holds my gaze. Her breaths are shallow, but even. She doesn’t try to pull away. She doesn’t beg or cry. What she does is far worse.

She surrenders.

The beat of her heart slows to a crawl as her eyes move over my silhouette. So full of trust. So fucking deceptive.

The tender give of her flesh beneath my brutal fingers feeds the darkness inside me. It thirsts for more. It demands all of her.

I hate her for it.

I’ve tried to stay away, but I can’t. For months, I’ve collected the intimate details of her life. I know the way she breathes when she sleeps, and how her hair slides over her pillow like silk. I know her fears, her fantasies, and the way she looks when she’s left alone with her thoughts.

As she submits to me now, I also know that I was right when I told her she would crave this.

The edge of terror and uncertainty gets her off. Convenient, given that I want to punish her until the end of fucking time.

“Was it worth it?” I murmur, brushing the hair back from her face.

Tears hover on the edges of her eyes as she blinks rapidly, trying to dispel them. She doesn’t answer me, and it only fuels my anger.

“Tell me to stop.” I press deeper into her throat.

She gives me the tiniest shake of her head, and I glare down at her. I’m half-tempted to lecture her about letting masked men choke her to the point of unconsciousness, but I prove my point by releasing her instead.

She coughs and sputters on a ragged breath, a tear finally spilling free and rolling down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb and press it to her lips, my blood heating as they part for me. Her tongue lashes against my rough skin, and she pulls me deeper, tasting me.



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