Page 97 of Psyop Kings

I nearly topple my chair over in my eagerness to escape. “Hell yeah.”

The guilt is back, reminding me of poor LuLu and the others who pick at their food, sullen and lost inside their heads. Maybe I can talk to Caius about helping them. He’s being nice to me.

Because it’s a trick, dumb girl.

The reality of this crashes down over me as we walk out of the dining room. Caius Crowne has been messing with my head since day one. What if all this niceness is one of his psyops? Just another way to see if he can get me to bend to his will?

I can feel eyes on the back of us as we exit. When we reach the hallway, just out of view of the people, Caius pushes me against the wall, caging me in with his arms.

With his dark, menacing gaze piercing me, I’m stunned, unable to move like a forest animal with its foot caught in a trap. All I can do is stare at him with dozens of questions and accusations in my eyes, waiting for him to strike.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice low and seductive.

Is this a real question?

I nearly laugh at the absurdity of it. “No. Never in a thousand years.”

His lips curl into a devious grin that twists my insides. “Play along anyway, love.”

I’m met with a growl and then lips crashing to mine. The shock of it has me gasping. My hands fly up to his chest. I attempt to push him away, but his solid, warm, and incredibly strong form doesn’t budge an inch. His tantalizing kiss that tastes of lingering cranberry from dinner and wickedness that only he possesses hold me captive.

The mind games never stop with this man.

Romy

Our kiss defies time and all reason. It works to silence all my rampant thoughts. I’m lost in the taste of him, finding enjoyment in our game of pretend. In fact, I’m having trouble figuring out what’s real and what’s fabricated.

It all feels real right now.

That’s what he wants.

It’s all a game to him.

Clarity races to the forefront when his hand caresses the skin bared beneath the slit of my dress. His touch on my upper thigh sends goose bumps scattering all over me.

Stop him.

I should stop him.

His hand inches under the material, delicately brushing his fingertips along the edge of my thong, and I don’t stop him. In fact, I whimper with need instead.

What’s wrong with me?

He bites on my bottom lip, tugging until it stings. It distracts me from what he’s doing under my dress. When I feel his fingers pushing past the edge of the fabric, touching the tender flesh between my thighs, I gasp in surprise.

“Cai,” I groan, panting heavily. “Don’t.”

He pulls away from our kiss, dark eyes flaring with heat, and slowly nods. Our eyes lock as he boldly slides his finger along my slit. I’m supposed to push him away here and tell him no. Again. Yet I meet his gaze, gasping at his expert touch.

His finger slides lower and his mouth twists into a wolfish grin. I’m wet. He touches the evidence of my arousal, gleefully playing in it. Worse, I want it. I want more of whatever it is he’s doing. It’s a distraction from the awful things I’ve witnessed. He’s offering me my only escape since they took me that fateful night.

Mouth back on mine, devouring me with possessive, feral need, he pushes his thick finger inside of my body. The stretching burn of the intrusion makes my knees weak. I hook my leg around his ass and thread my fingers together behind his neck. With one hand on my ass, lifting me off the floor, he slowly fucks my body with his finger.

I’m at his mercy.

Impaled on his manly finger, a subject of his wicked ministrations.

“More,” I whimper against his mouth. “Please.”

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