Page 90 of Deceit

I frown as Vincent sits up on the couch, shrugging his leather jacket back on and tucking his gun into his pants. When he stands up I can practically feel him tower over me and the same feeling of safety cloaks me as he steps forward, resting a hand on my hip and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“See you soon, Siren,” he says, before he’s moving through the room and slipping out the door.

My mouth is parted in surprise, but not as much as Liam’s is. He turns back to face me with wide eyes and a laugh.

“Lucy, you got some explaining to do!” he says, in a terrible Ricky accent from I Love Lucy.

When I don’t laugh, he shakes his head.

“I’m not mad, baby. A little confused to wake up and find my girlfriend snuggled up with another man. The meanest, coldest man on campus, of all people, honestly. What’s going on with all that?” he says, as he gestures towards the couch.

“I don’t know. I was kinda freaked out from my dream and he made me feel…safe. Nothing happened. I swear,” I assure quickly, to which he pulls me into his arms and shakes his head.

“I know, baby. Even if it did, I’m cool. I’m already sharing you with Ronan. Why not Griggs too?”

I scoff, attempting to push him away as I shake my head.

“Me and Vincent? Yeah, right. The guy hates me and he’s an ass. There is no way. Us? Ha!” I laugh sarcastically, knowing how defensive and ridiculous I sound to my own ears.

Liam’s smile only grows, as he shakes his head and gives me a quick peck. “Whatever you say, babygirl. I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind adding another man to this little thing we have going. You guys would be hot as fuck together.”

Something unfamiliar runs through me at his words and I can feel his eyes watching me carefully, as if he were testing me. I don’t respond and thankfully he doesn’t push it anymore. Vincent and me? The most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.I’m taken, happily. I don't have just one boyfriend, I have two! And an asshole fiancé. I’m so good. Yeah, no. Hard pass.

Right?

Chapter Thirty One

Vincent

I’m sitting outside of Skyla’s door, disassembling and reassembling my gun over and over again as I pass the time. My eyes are continually tracking the hallways, waiting, watching.

One of the reasons I’m so excellent at my position within the Brethren is my patience. I could stake out a job for days, my attention never wavering. I wasn’t lying to Skyla that once I set my eyes on something, I don’t stop until it’s mine. Whether that be a dead body, a stalker or her.

I don’t give a fuck about her ‘boyfriends’, I don’t even give a damn about her ‘fiancé’. I want her and no matter how impossibly difficult it will be, I will have her. One day. When she’s ready.

A breathy moan sounds through the door that has my hands pausing. I listen again, some muffled words that have me frowning. I quickly reassemble my gun, loading one in the chamber before standing. Swiping the key card I made for her room, her door opens easily, and I push inside, my eyes scanning the empty still room.

I know for a fact that Asher, Liam and Ronan are all out of town. I couldn’t get the specifics for what, just that they are in New York for a job. Which is interesting because I was supposed to be in New York for a job this week that was suddenly canceled. There is no way the two could be connected. Then again, maybe they could be.

Moving lightly on my feet, I’m able to clear both the bathroom and her closet before coming to her bed. She’s alone, laying perfectly in the middle of it, the straps of her white tank top a beautiful contrast to her sun kissed skin. Goddamnit, she’s so perfect.

Her hair is fanned out across her pillow like it would be in the water, like the perfect sea temptress she is. Her rosy red lips are begging for my cock to slide in between, her hard nipples straining against the thin shirt aching for my mouth latched around them.

“Liam,” she moans, her voice soft and sleep drenched. “Oh, Liam. Please, touch me,” she begs.

I can’t tell if she’s asleep or only semi-conscious. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. I find myself closing the distance between us, coming to her side as my fingers skate against her cheek.

“I’m here, Siren,” I murmur, not giving a shit that it’s not my name on her lips, it’s not me filling her dreams. It will be when I’m done with her.

“More,” she whimpers. “Give me more,” she begs, as her back arches and her legs seem to rub together beneath the sheets.

I feel my cock stiffen, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m peeling back her blankets, exposing her bare legs in nothing but a tiny pair of sleep shorts. Kneeling onto the bed, I crawl between her legs, tucking my gun into my waistband before resting my hands on her knees. My tattooed fingers are such a stark contrast to her blank skin. It feels forbidden, like I’m aboutto soil her with my blood stained hands. Like they are too keen to violence for her precious body.

Not precious enough to stop me when the next moan flutters from her mouth. My hands force her knees apart, allowing her to open up to me so that I can take in the view. She’s fucking perfect. Just like I knew she would be. My face is only a foot or so away, I can smell her arousal from whatever fantasy she is dreaming about right now, and I don’t even attempt to hold myself back.

Sticking my tongue out, I run a long line through her, her taste instantly spreading across my tongue. I grumble my pleasure against her. Goddamnit, she’s fucking delicious too. What isn’t perfect about my Siren?

She gasps at the touch, and I do it again and again, allowing moan after moan to fall from her lips.

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