I kept watch over her after she turned eighteen, fulfilling a favor owed to her father, before allowing my depravity to take hold, giving in when she asked me to ruin her. The tiara ensnared in her hair shifts as she moves, and mascara smudges beneath her eyelids, making her look sullen and defeated, though I know her to be anything but. Not because I care if she’s implicated-it won’t matter in a few hours, anyway-but because I simply don’t want her touching him. And yet, her only real reaction was to me, as if his death bears no consequence to her.īending down, she presses two fingers to Mateo’s jugular, and my shoulders tense, the thought of her DNA anywhere near him making me nervous. Perhaps it’s the context her, in a wedding gown, standing over her fiancé’s dead body. She’s more covered up than I’ve ever seen her, the dress little more than a sheath that clings to her like a second skin, but somehow she’s never looked more sinful. Silent for several beats, I can see the gentle rise and fall of her chest, breasts straining against the white lace material of her dress. Shoving it into my coat pocket, I nod, finally breaking away from her mouth to note Mateo’s sightless gaze. “Dead?” I ask, hitting the record button on my phone to stop the video. She blinks, over and over, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. I try to focus and fix my sight on anything else, but I can’t stop remembering how it felt to have them wrapped around me, sucking like her life depended on it.

My dick stiffensbehind my slacks as Elena licks her plump lips, her soft eyes glued to the corpse in front of us.

Sav r miller promises and pomegranates