Page 193 of Dance of Deception

Tension coils thick between us, wrapping around the night air like smoke.

My fingers twitch. My knife isright there.

"Careful, Carmine," he murmurs. "You’re not the only predator in the woods."

I shift closer, my voice dropping to a low, lethal murmur.

"And you’re not as untouchable as you think you are."

Kir exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head, before stepping close and then leaning even closer. “While you boys are playing games with masks and mazes,” he murmurs, “the men are out here conquering the fucking world.”

His hand claps firmly against my arm. “Take care of her,” he says.

"Don't go fucking near her," I mutter back, my voice a quiet, razor-edged threat.

Kir pulls back, smirking slightly. He doesn’t say another word. Just turns, gets into his car, and drives off.

I stand there, watching his taillights fade into the night.

The house isdark when I slip inside. Silent, too, though that doesn’t extend to the inside of my head.

There’s no such thing as silence in my head now—not since the fire, when I almost lost her.

I move through the shadows, my body still aching, my stitches pulling with every step. But the pain isn't important. The only thing that matters is Lyra's warm presence waiting upstairs, tucked safely between my sheets.

I climb the stairs without a sound, each step bringing me closer. There’s a restless, hungry feeling inside me, one that starts and ends with her.

I push open the bedroom door, exhaling slowly when I see her. She’s curled up on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, her red hair spilling across my pillow. Vicious possessiveness rises inside me, dark and primal.

I don’t wake her. Not yet.

I step closer, my fingers trailing over the sheets. I grip them and tug them down until I can see all of her, lying there in just a thin t-shirt and a lacy pink thong.

I run a finger over the bare skin of her thigh. She stirs slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips, but she still doesn’t wake.

I peel the lace down and off her legs, taking my time, memorizing the way her breath hitches in her sleep. I bring the thong to my nose, my cock throbbing as I inhale the scent of her pussy, her skin, her everything.

I strip naked, the cool air whispering over my heated skin as I move over her, covering her, caging her.

She shifts again, a breathless murmur falling from her lips as I trail my fingers between her thighs. I find her already wet, already soft and warm. My jaw clenches as I stroke her, teasing her, feeling her body react even in sleep.

I dip two fingers between her lips, stroke up and down, feel her grow even wetter.

What a greedy little pussy.

I pull my fingers away, rubbing her slickness between them before I smear it over the swollen head of my cock.

It’s not until I’ve lined us up, ready to slide into her wet, eager heat, that I grab her discarded panties and push them into her mouth.

Her eyes snap open, wide with confusion. But the second my hips snap forward, plunging into her deep and hard, her muffled cry turns into a moan of pleasure.

Yeah, if the panties in her mouth didn’t wake her up, every thick inch of my cock thrusting into her eager little cunt sure the fuck should.

“Even in sleep, this messy little pussy wants me,” I groan. "You’re dripping for me, baby. You love this. You love being taken before you’re even fully awake."

She moans and drools a reply into the soaked lace stuffed into her mouth.

I fist her hair, keeping her exactly where I want her, my other hand braced beside her head as I move. Hard. Unrelenting. Possessive. Pounding into her, fucking her greedy little pussy.

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