Page 13 of Dangerous Deceit

“What?” I ask, my voice squeaking higher than usual. Is she talking about what Kenzo’s doing to me? His fingers are warm between my thighs, and my entire consciousness is focused on him. I must be soaked.

“The salmon,” she explains. “I’m going to sneak into the back and see if they have anymore.”

My body reddens. I’m basically a human tomato.

“Really good,” I mutter.

His finger slides between my folds again, and it’s so obvious. Iamwet.Humiliatingly wet.He’s touching me underneath a table while we’re surrounded by people. Their eyes float between Kenzo and me, and I swear, one man stares a little too long. Studies us.Like he knows.Like theyallmust know what we’re doing right now.

I’m only doing this for Uncle Jay,I tell myself.I’m doing this for our dream house. On the beach?—

But it’s not just that.

Kenzo presses his finger deeper, but he doesn’t enter completely. He’s teasing me. My body aches for more, and my skin prickles.

Am I making it obvious?

I’m supposed to be a virgin.

I lower my eyes to my lap, trying to play shy, but Kenzo readjusts his grip between my thighs, and it only makes me hotter.

Am I supposed to push him away? Is that what a virgin would do?

But what if I don’t want to push him away?

“What do you think, Vi?” Kenzo asks. Everyone waits for me to answer, but Kenzo doesn’t stop playing with me. He pushes the tip of his finger inside, and my walls constrict around him.

“Really good,” I say.

“I didn’t think you liked the crab cakes,” another person says. “You hardly touched yours.”

“Oh.”

Sweat covers me. My face must be as wet as my thighs. Kenzo kisses my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine. Between my legs, his palm skims the hair on my mound as his finger slides another inch deeper inside of me.

“So you liked your dinner, then?” Kenzo breathes.

I expect to find my salmon on my plate, but I find half of a cheesecake. I don’t even remember eating it. I’ve been so distracted by Kenzo’s hand between my legs.

“It was great,” I say.

“They outdid themselves this year,” Kenzo says to the group.

“So good,” another guest says. She turns back to me. “The salmon, right?”

“Really good,” I say again. I feel so stupid repeating myself, but it’s all that comes to mind. They keep talking, and my mind whirls into nothingness as his finger presses inside of me,filling me up. Everything is sensitive and throbbing, and I swear everyone is judging me; they must think I’m a yakuza slut or something. Still, I don’t move. I don’t want to. And Kenzo acts like he’s doingnothing.Like he’s simply entertaining the room. Like he has nothing to do with why my brain is in a fog.

I survey each of the guests with a strained smile. What do they know? Can they read right through me?

A pressure builds inside of me, scorching my cheeks, and as Kenzo’s finger hooks upward, a small moan escapes my lips.

I smack a hand over my mouth.

“Excuse me,” I say, pretending I burped.

“Too much champagne?” one of the guests jokes.

“Maybe.”

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