Page 25 of The Darkest Gift

I study him for a moment, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl slightly. Despite his attempts at appearing unfazed, there's an undercurrent of... something. Anxiety? Anticipation? It's hard to say.

"The truth," I ponder, selecting another piece of fruit from the tray. This time it's a slice of ripe peach, the flesh soft and yielding beneath my fingers. "Such a weighty concept. Tell me, Elijah, do you really want the truth? Or do you want confirmation of what you already know?"

I bring the peach to his lips, watching as he parts them almost involuntarily. The juice runs down his chin as he bites into it, and this time I don't resist the urge to wipe it away with my thumb. His skin is warm beneath my touch, a slight tremor running through him at the contact.

"You're deflecting," he says after swallowing, but there's less bite to his words now.

I smile, a slow, predatory curve of my lips. "Perhaps," I concede. "Or perhaps I'm giving you the chance to really consider what you're asking. And why."

My hand trails down his chest, fingertips dancing over the dried evidence of his earlier release. His breath hitches slightly, muscles tensing beneath my touch.

"Does it change how you see us?" I ask softly, my eyes never leaving his. "The possibility that we are killers? Does it make you question your own moral compass, knowing how attracted you are to us despite knowing that?"

Elijah's expression remains carefully blank, but I can almost imagine the war raging behind those icy blue eyes.

"Or perhaps," I continue, my voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "it excites you. The danger, the thrill of the forbidden. Tell me, Elijah, does your cock twitch at the thought of blood on our hands? Or maybe on yours?"

As if on cue, I see his cock stir slightly. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. "Ah," I breathe. "I thought as much."

Elijah swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. When he speaks, his voice is rough, strained. "You're trying to distract me," he accuses, but there's a lack of conviction in his tone.

I laugh softly, the sound rich and sinful. "Oh, Elijah," I purr. "If I were trying to distract you, believe me, you'd know it."

My hand travels lower, down to the juncture of his thighs. Elijah's breath hitches, his muscles tensing beneath my touch. I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, see the way his pupils dilate despite his attempts to maintain composure.

"Someone will have noticed by now," Elijah whispers, his voice strained. "I had cases... court appearances..."

My fingers trace lazy patterns along his inner thigh, never quite touching where he desperately wants me to. "Oh?" I murmur, feigning surprise. "Do tell me more about these important obligations of yours."

Elijah's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. "The Donovan case," he grits out. "High-profile murder trial. I was meant to be in court yesterday for opening statements."

I hum thoughtfully, my hand drifting dangerously close to his half-hard cock before veering away at the last second. "Sounds terribly important," I muse. "I do hope they found someone to cover for you."

A bead of sweat trickles down Elijah's temple as he struggles to maintain his train of thought. "And the Richardson file," he continues, his voice growing hoarse. "Corruption charges against a city councilman. Time-sensitive evidence that needs to be—ah!"

His words cut off in a sharp gasp as I finally wrap my hand around his length, giving him one long, slow stroke. "Needs to be what, Elijah?" I ask innocently, my thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock.

"P-processed," he manages to stammer out, hips jerking involuntarily into my touch. "Evidence that needs to be processed."

I lean in close, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. "How fascinating," I purr. "Please, do go on. Tell me all about the pressing matters awaiting your attention out there in the real world."

My hand continues its torturously slow pace, alternating between feather-light touches and firm strokes. Elijah's breathing grows ragged, his chest heaving with the effort of maintaining control.

"My assistant," he gasps, eyes squeezing shut as I twist my wrist just so. "She'll have noticed something's wrong. Probably called the police by now."

I chuckle, nipping at his earlobe. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," I murmur. "We took care of everything. As far as anyone knows, you're on an impromptu vacation. Stress leave, doctor's orders. Very hush-hush, of course."

Elijah's eyes fly open, a mix of horror and grudging admiration flashing across his features. "You... what?" he breathes.

"Mhmm," I confirm, increasing the pace of my strokes. "We're very thorough, Elijah. Your assistant received a lovely bouquet of flowers this morning, along with a handwritten note expressing your gratitude for her hard work. Charged to your credit card, of course."

Elijah's eyes widen. "You didn't," he breathes.

"Oh, but we did," I purr, leaning in close enough that my breath ghosts over his ear. "An exquisite arrangement of white lilies and deep purple irises. The card praised her efficiencyand thanked her for holding down the fort while you take some much-needed time off. We even remembered to mention her son by name–Tommy, isn't it? Said how we hope his Little League season is going well."

A shudder runs through Elijah's body, whether from my words or my touch, it's hard to say. His cock twitches in my hand, now rock hard. Just as he starts to thrust into my grip, seeking more friction, I abruptly let go.

Elijah groans in frustration, his hips still thrusting fruitlessly. "Fuck," he hisses through clenched teeth.

---