Page 66 of Dance of Deception

His fingers stroke just once, his touch featherlight, his other hand tightening around my wrists and pinning me in place as he teases over my most intimate area like he’s already conquered all of me.

“I simply don’t need to worry about right and wrong. Good or bad.”

A slow shiver ripples through me.

“And to answer your question…” he growls, his lips hovering near my ear, making my knees go weak.

“There is no money.”

I balk.

“But—but there was supposed to be?—”

His fingers press. A needy, desperate sound chokes in my throat as the pads of his fingers stroke my pussy lips through the lace. He does it again, a soft touch that has my breath catching and my stomach twisting in ways I don’t want to think about.

“A million,” I breathe.

Carmine smiles viciously.

“You weren’t supposed to beatthat audition,” he mutters. “And do I really need to mention the part where you threatened me?”

His fingers move again, lazily stroking the lace between us.

I gasp softly, my head turning side to side against the wall.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

Carmine’s lips brush my ear.

“Or what?”

“I’ll scream,” I murmur, my thighs shaking as heat pools wet between them.

He smiles.

“Oh, Iknowyou will.”

His fingers slip beneath the lace of my panties. I choke on another cry as he touches my bare pussy, dragging a slow, torturous circle over my throbbing clit, bringing a whine to my lips.

“In any case,” he murmurs, voice silky and wicked, “you’re my fiancée. What elseshouldI be doing at our engagement party besides taking you away to dark rooms to...corrupt you.”

A quiet, tortured sound escapes my throat, hands gripping his arms as I try to ground myself. Then I gasp sharply when Carmine sinks two thick fingers into me.

I moan, my body arching violently against him as I shudder.

“Popov was going to kill you,” Carmine says calmly as he starts to curl his fingers in and out of me.

Lewd wet sounds fill the bathroom as I writhe under his touch, my thighs trembling and my core clenching over and over.

“Now he won’t. Ergo: I saved your life.”

His fingers ram faster, harder, filling the room with the sounds of my needy, traitorous arousal. His muscles coil against me, a tight growl rumbling in his chest as he leans in and bites my neck sharply, making me cry out.

“Surelyyour life is worth at least a million dollars.”

I look away, my pulse hammering.

I’m not so sure about that. But Iamsure that he’s about to make me explode all over his hand.

---