Oh, I know the basics. That Damon took over the failing criminal enterprise of Finley’s father, making it bigger and more successful than it had ever been before. Changing the outdated business model—because make no mistake, organized crime is a business—and transforming into a thriving enterprise that rivals the best and brightest on Wall Street.
What I don’t understand is why Finley didn’t take over her father’s business herself.
I’ve witnessed no animosity between Finley and Damon to indicate that she resents his involvement. Or that she had tried to run things and failed.
What inspires Finley’s loyalty?
Had she hoped to leave this life behind, as I had?
But for now, all these questions will have to wait.
Because what I really need to know is how my cock will feel sheathed inside Finley’s pussy. I need to hear her scream my name again. I need to see her lose control.
For one moment, however, I stand still behind her. Motionless. Watching the quick rise and fall of her ribcage, the steady blink, blink, blink of her eyelashes in profile, the pink flush that has spread over her skin.
I also need confirmation that she is as sure about this as I am. “Finley, if—”
“Don’t you dare stop, Sebastian. Don’t you dare,” she says in a husky, trembling voice before I can finish my question, lifting onto her toes and exposing the shadowed crease between her legs, her ass like a split, succulent peach.
There are so many things I want to do to Finley's body. So many places to kiss and fuck and spank and touch. But if I don’t feel the clench of her pussy around my cock, I might as well die.
I grab Finley by her hipbones and slam into her. There is no forewarning, but she is so damn wet her body offers no resistance. As I bottom out inside her, her gasped cry of pleasure mingles with my roar of conquest.
And then I wonder if this is what death feels like. Heat and pressure and a buzzing in my brain.
It’s only a fleeting thought. Because my most primal urges have taken over.
Who gives a fuck about death? I’m not stopping until I find paradise.
And so, I pull out, bearing the pain of leaving Finley’s body with a hiss through clenched teeth. I suck in a deep breath, then thrust forward once again.
And again and again and again.
Over and over and over.
At some point, I flip Finley around, throwing her legs over my shoulders as she arches over the arm of the couch, her hair spread like a storm cloud on the cushions, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her mouth open and crying out my name.
I am a king, a prince, a fucking conqueror.
This moment is my reward for embracing my legacy.
This woman is my destiny.
Finley Byrne is mine.
If you’ve enjoyed this peek at the Wages of Sin world, download Cruel Sanctuary today! Links can be found at https://www.taraleighbooks.com.
He is the monarch of Manhattan. She is a political princess.
This is enemies-to-lovers romance at its most ruthless.
They say New York City is the Devil’s Playground.
They’re wrong.
This city belongs to me.
And so does Aislinn Granville.