Goddess of Vengeance by Jackie Collins Read Free Book Online Page A

on a pale pink Chanel suit with a lacy blouse underneath, and beige Louboutin heels that clicked on his highly polished marble floor as he led her around his penthouse, giving her the grand tour. Finally they ended up in the master bedroom, a masculine room, all deep burgundy leather couches and black cashmere throws covering the over-sized bed.
    ‘No family photos,’ Nona said, glancing around his stark bedroom. She laughed coquettishly. ‘Armand, you are such a man of mystery, and why do I always see you with a different girl? Surely you wish to meet a woman you can share your life with?’
    ‘Why would I want to do that when I can have a woman like you?’ he said, gazing into her eyes as if he meant it.
    And just like that, all his hard work paid off. All the compliments and sly attention and flattery, flattery, flattery.
    She was his. All his to use and abuse and humiliate.
    Because that was his pleasure, that was his kick.
    First he kissed her, roughly forcing his lips down on hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, giving her no chance to object. Then, without warning, his hand swooped under her skirt, and his thick fingers slid past her panties into the soft mound of flesh, wet and willing and waiting for discovery.
    No foreplay for this one. She was turned on the minute she’d walked into his apartment. Nona Constantine wanted it. And he was about to give it to her. Hard.
    Navigating his thick fingers through her mound of wiry pubic hair, the furriness excited him. He wound strands of hair tightly around his fingers until she cried out in pain. This pleased him. If he wanted a woman shaved like a child, he would have a child.
    ‘Oh, Armand,’ she gasped, flushed and breathless. ‘We shouldn’t be doing . . .’
    A little late for objections. Too late.
    He shoved her down onto the bed and thought about Martin Constantine and the concealed camera recording every moment. His thoughts made him as hard as he’d ever been.
    Dipping into his bedside table drawer he withdrew a glassine bag of cocaine, and sprinkled some of the white powder on her erect nipples.
    She writhed beneath him as he snorted the powder from her breasts. Then, as she begged him to fuck her, he gave it to her hard, ramming his penis into her with considerable force, then turning her over and taking her from behind – ignoring her objections and sudden cries of pain.
    Realizing this was not going the way she’d hoped for, she struggled to escape his relentless attack, but he was having none of it as he rode her hard, punishing her with his penis for being an unfaithful bitch.
    He felt invincible and powerful. He was the man and once again a female had proved to him that all women were dirty whores.
    Except perhaps his wife. But who cared about her? He certainly didn’t.
    *   *   *
    Later, after relentlessly fucking Nona Constantine in every possible way, he informed her she was a cheating filthy prostitute, physically dragged her from his bedroom, and threw her out.
    The shock on her face was palpable as he hustled her out of his front door, flinging her designer clothes after her.
    ‘What? What did I do?’ she sobbed, red in the face as he slammed the door on her.
    He didn’t bother replying.
    It was satisfying to know that there was nobody she could complain to, nothing she could do. She was fucked in more ways than one.
    Once rid of his conquest, Armand snorted more coke and summoned Fouad, who worked downstairs in a different apartment. ‘Come up here,’ Armand commanded. ‘Right now.’
    Fouad hurried up to the penthouse.
    ‘What’s happening with The Keys?’ Armand demanded as soon as Fouad walked in.
    ‘There is a half-naked woman crying outside your door,’ Fouad remarked, noting that the Prince wore only a bathrobe, and that there was a telltale residue of white powder under his nose. Armand’s use of cocaine was escalating, and it worried Fouad as he watched Armand become even more irrational and moody.
    ‘I