Crown of Lies (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #2)

6. Quinn

6

QUINN

It hasn’t been long, but it’s been long enough since any of the Princes have been inside me, that the searing stretch of Nico’s cock me takes my breath away. He’s the biggest man I’ve ever been with, although Killian and Atlas aren’t far behind him, and the first time I saw his cock, I was sure there was no fucking way it would fit.

Surprisingly, he takes it easy on me, working his way all the way in with a few powerful thrusts instead of filling me up in one go.

But still, I falter, my legs weak and my thighs shaking, as my body adjusts to his length and girth. Only Nico’s grip on my cuffed wrists—and the pipe I’m handcuffed to—keeps me upright as he fucks me, his cock sliding out before driving deeper inside me with every stroke.

I can’t help the sounds that leave my mouth. Primal, animalistic, touch-starved sounds that spill from my lips on their own accord.

Nico drops his head, his laugh a rough burn in my ear as he bites at my lobe.

“You might hate me as much as I hate you, but you still love getting fucked by your husband’s cock, don’t you, wife?”

“No,” I grit out between moans of pleasure and barely-bitten back whimpers as Nico continues to spear me with his cock.

“So stubborn,” he growls, one hand releasing my wrists to grab a fistful of my hair instead, yanking my head back and sending a burst of pain through my scalp. “Always so fucking stubborn.”

He makes an impatient noise as he pitches his hips forward, like he can’t get deep enough for his satisfaction, and a second later, both of his hands fall to my hips. He drags me back onto his cock, simultaneously slamming into me as he thrusts forward.

I don’t think he’s ever hit the spot inside me that he’s hitting right now, and I rise up onto my tiptoes, my heart crashing wildly against my ribs as we both grunt with every thrust. I swear I can feel him in the back of my throat, he’s so fucking deep, and my mind is blank to anything that isn’t this. The raw connection between us. How good it feels.

Nico, and his perfect grip as his fingers dig into my hips.

His perfect cock.

His perfect, sinful roughness.

“Fuck. Fuck, yes …”

I lick the tang of blood from my bottom lip, remnants of our feral kiss, resting my forehead against the wall as my body quakes with each piston of Nico’s hips. I’m so close, but I need more . I squeeze my thighs together, my clit throbbing, increasing the sensation of Nico’s cock driving in and out of me.

His hand suddenly comes to my hair again, fingers tightening around the tangled strands.

“I changed my mind, mia cara,” he murmurs savagely, just like the devil I know he is. “I don’t give a shit if you come. This isn’t about you anymore. It’s for me. I’m gonna use you. Gonna fucking wreck you. Gonna fill you up until you’re dripping .”

He jerks my head back by the hair again, leaning in for another bruising kiss before he pulls out suddenly. The shock of it makes me stumble, my legs folding. The handcuffs draped over the pipe above me catch my weight, and a second later, Nico spins me back around the face him, lifting me up.

My shaky legs wrap around his waist as he slams back into me, pinning my back against the wall. In this position, there’s nowhere for me to look but at his darkly handsome face, his features contorted with pleasure and his mismatched eyes so dark that they almost seem to be the same color.

I don’t like it. I don’t want to look at him like this, don’t want to let him see the emotions on my face that I can’t quite hide in this moment. Don’t want to let him see behind the mask.

But for some reason, Nico won’t let me look away.

With one hand gripping my ass tightly, he grabs my chin with the other, holding me in place with our faces just a few inches apart. His gaze locks with mine, a trickle of sweat sliding down his temple, his full lips slightly parted as he breathes heavily.

My heart, which was already pounding so hard that it rattled my ribs, picks up its pace even more as we stare at each other in silence, the sounds of our rough fuck the only noises in the room.

Nico changes the angle of his thrusts a little, making me suck in a breath… and despite what he said before, despite the fact that he claimed this isn’t about me, he drops his hold on my chin so that his hand can find its way between us.

His thumb works my clit, circling it so fast and intensely that my whole body seems to tighten. Nico’s groans deepen, and his thrusts grow rougher. His cock drives in and out of me, thick and hard.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “Come on, mia cara. Come on your husband’s cock.”

I whine, shaking my head. My mind is in turmoil—my body desperately wanting to come, my stubbornness wanting to win out and not let him see that he’s still able to make me fall apart even after everything that’s happened.

But I can’t hold back the inevitable. Not when it’s Nico’s hands on me.

My hips roll to meet his thrusts, my pussy clamping down tight around Nico as I come with a loud, shuddering groan. Every nerve in my body is primed to pleasure and no other sensation.

I’m a panting, gushing, writhing mess, and Nico isn’t much better.

His face contorts in a grimace, his brows knitted together as if my orgasm takes him off guard. His fingers dig into my hip as he slams me onto his cock, using me like a toy until he suddenly stops, dragging me all the way down on his length as the heat of his cum fills me.

“Fuuuck…”

He rocks his hips as his cock empties inside me, so pent up or furious or a combination of both that there’s so much it ends up leaking out of me.

His body slumps against mine, pinning me in place against the wall as we both gasp for breath, the tension slowly draining from us. It’s not an afterglow. We don’t have those anymore—if we ever did.

This is just pure sexual exhaustion, plain and simple.

“Mi hai distrutto, cazzo. Non posso pensare intorno a te,” he murmurs under his breath, his breath gusting over my skin.

I don’t know what the words mean, but he grinds against me as he presses me into the wall, and I can feel a shudder work through his body as if his legs are shaking too. I’ll admit, there’s a bit of satisfaction in the fact that he has to rest after what we just did, that he’s as bone weary as me. I even let the fact that he rests his head in the crook of my neck slide.

My voice is too hoarse to protest anyway.

But as he holds me up in our not-quite-afterglow, I notice something.

The pipe I’ve been strung up on for the last two days is loose.

I pick up on it when Nico grinds against me again. He doesn’t realize it, but as our weight shifts, so does the pipe. Turning my head just a little, I peer up at it from the corner of my eye, trying to be discrete about it.

My heart skips a beat. I was right.

The bolt that secures the pipe to the wall is hanging loose. All of the movement from our rough fuck must have knocked it free.

I swallow, all of the post-sex exhaustion draining away as a surge of adrenaline fills my veins.

This is it. I have a way out.

My opportunity doesn’t come long after that thought crosses my mind. With another groan, Nico pulls out of me, totally oblivious to the opening he’s left.

As he lets go of me, I make myself a dead weight, clenching my fists as I drop my body. My shoulders scream in protest, but the chain of the handcuffs catches on the pipe, wrenching it all the way out of the wall. With a bursting clatter, it comes crashing down, leaving me free—albeit still handcuffed.

“What the?—”

Nico starts to turn toward me, his eyes widening with shock. But I don’t give him a chance to finish that sentence.

Urging my sore limbs into motion, I launch myself toward the gun he set aside earlier when he shoved down his pants to fuck me. Nico’s gaze snaps to it just as I make my move, and he dives for it too.

We knock into each other, shoulder to shoulder, and then tussle as we fall to the floor. I kick the crate he set the gun on, sending the weapon clattering away, and Nico, in his bid to grab it before I can, loses his solid footing.

“Shit!”

He stumbles, and I army crawl forward, reaching out with my cuffed hands. It’s awkward and messy, but I manage to snatch the gun up from the floor where it fell, letting out a triumphant cry as my fingers close around the grip. I roll onto my back just as Nico rushes toward me, lashing out with my legs and kicking him hard in the chest.

He falls backward, and I scramble onto my knees and climb on top of him, nearly falling over from lack of balance as I straddle his torso. Breathing hard, I shove the gun under his chin just like he did to me the other night.

My hands are shaking, adrenaline surging through me as he goes still, his blue and green eyes flashing up to meet mine. I can see the realization in their depths, a recognition of the truth that we both know in this moment.

I could end everything right here .

It would take so little effort to pull the trigger and blow his brains out. What would the Princes do then, without their precious leader?

I press the gun harder under his chin, forcing his head to tilt awkwardly.

“You’re going to let me go,” I tell him in a low, hard voice. “Unlock these cuffs and let me walk out of here. Right. Fucking. Now.”

His gaze is unwavering. Piercing. I feel like he’s trying to peer into my soul, to see so deep inside me that he’ll learn every secret I’ve ever hidden away.

“You know I won’t do that,” he murmurs.

“You don’t have a choice,” I remind him harshly, my finger grazing the trigger.

“There’s always a choice.” He shakes his head slightly, never looking away from me. “You really think this thing between us will be over even if I let you walk out of this basement? It won’t. No matter where you try to escape to, I won’t let you go. Ever . I’ll find you, no matter how long it takes. You’ll have to kill me if you want this to end.”

I huff out a breath, gritting my teeth.

“If that’s what you want, husband .”

My finger curls on the trigger. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve used a gun to end a life. I’m comfortable with the weapon, even if I prefer to be more hands on.

Nico has made his choice. He said it loud and clear. To be free, I have to kill him.

So why am I hesitating?

Pull the fucking trigger, Quinn.

Do it.

Now!

My body is primed, my arms braced for the kickback… but it’s as if my hand has suddenly turned to stone, my finger refusing to move any farther.

In my mind’s eye, I can see the bullet entering Nico’s head before blowing out the top of his skull—but the more I picture it, the harder it is to actually do it.

Because some part of me isn’t ready to see him die.

Some part of me can’t stand the thought of being his executioner.

I wonder briefly if this feeling, this wretched, misplaced guilt or whatever the fuck it is, is the same feeling that kept Nico and the others from hurting me more than they could have while they had me captive. The same thing that made Nico decide to offer me this truce.

This kind of hesitation is damning for people in our position.

Yet here I am, my eyes locked on his, his cum dripping out of my body and onto his stomach, and I can’t pull the goddamn trigger.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. Our gazes remain locked as something passes through his mismatched eyes that throws me off.

Is it… regret?

“If you’re going to do it, get it over with,” he says, his voice strangely broken. “Fucking do it, mia cara.”

My chest tightens. “Alright,” I whisper, swallowing hard.

He closes his eyes, and I know he thinks this is the end.