Page 242 of Deceit

“I want you everywhere.” I grab onto her hips and fuck her like I should every time we do. Hard and rough than soft and sweet, reminding her of how much I adore and cherish her. That I’m a dickhead that only softens to her.

She’s the words when I have nothing to say in a world that’s been tainted and unpleasant for me. She makes me want to be completely bound to her in every which way that matters and doesn’t.

To dive headfirst without my hands to save me.

“Don’t stop,” Emmy begs, piercing into my soul with her brown eyes. She does exactly what I want and keeps that pretty little gaze on me.

It’s everything.

I take my girl with every ounce of energy that I have. I circle her sensitive clit and meet her tiny thrusts with one of my own.

“Oh God,” she breathes, gripping onto one of my biceps. Her fingers dig into my hard flesh, and it does nothing but up the ante.

She comes down hard and howls out through her orgasm with her eyesstillfucking open. I watch her soar, and her face pinkens brighter when it triggers my own release.

My cock shoots out ropes of come inside her beautiful ass, but I pull out and shove it into her tight pussy. I milk myself as Emmy moans again and I growl out.

I was screwed from day one with Emmy.

I’ll continue screwing her until I fucking die.

The problem with being entitled is that you don’t think of someone else’s feelings or plans. In fact, you plainly ignore them.

Alexander believes that today he’s going to have a one up on me.

That he’s going to fucking kill me because I already know too much, and it only takes one visit or report to blow the biography of him being a piece of shit.

He’s going to have a story, alright. One that ends with his death or missing—I haven’t decided yet.

This morning, Alexander’s text messages to his squad were that he wasgoing to finish this himself.

I’m ready.

I’m waiting.

And he’s here—a few hours early.

Dressed casually—well for him—in navy blue slacks and a burnt orange shirt with navy matching triangles on it, Alexander stands at my doorstep and looks at me with zero fucks that he’s not supposed to be here yet. His medium-brown hair is perfectly styled as if he’s about to pick me up for a date or we’re about to have a damn picnic.

I mean, why look like shit when you’re about to kill someone?

“Hello, Emmy,” he greets without his usual and charming smile. “I figured we’d get this over with.”

“No big deal—“ I step aside to let him in. “—make yourself at home.”

He strides inside, careful not to touch anything because this place probably hasn’t been deep cleaned ever. His silence pricks my skin, and when I pivot around, he’s got a pretty little gun shoved in my face.

“You ruined everything,” he bites out, his expression pained and conflicted. “Why? Why the fuck did you contact me?”

I cock my head to the side, kinda confused and kinda like I want to kick him in the balls. “You didn’t want me to tell you that I was alive with our kids?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he snaps, shaking the weapon as he says it. “You’re still fucking around with your ex-husband.”

The response that is about to leave my lips might get a bullet in my face, and I’m not sure if Lucien can fix that, so I opt out for another answer.

Because my ex-husband is now stepping out of my bedroom with a Glock in his hand.

“I’ll admit,” I tell Alexander. “I was having a petty moment and wanted to see the look on your face.”

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