Page 19 of Dangerous Deceit

I put her bags by the bathroom, and she meets my gaze.

“Thank you,” she says, then she lowers her eyes. Back to her submissive, proper-virginal niece act.

I’ve seen the real her, and I want her back.Now.

“But you’re not sleeping here, are you?” she asks.

I laugh. Is she playing the virgin, or is she actually nervous around me? I don’t answer; I head to the stocked bar and find a brand new bottle of Hakushu Whisky.

“It’s bad luck for us to sleep together on the eve of the wedding,” she says.

I raise my glass. “I’m not interested insleeping,Vivian.”

“Vi,” she corrects. I offer her some whisky. Vi shakes her head. “You know what I mean.”

She paces the room, probably waiting for me to leave, but I savor every drop of the woodsy liquor on my tongue. Is she nervous, being around someone from the mafia, or is this a part of her act? The woman shewantsme to fall for?

I’ll figure out what’s real, whether or not she likes it.

“You’re a virgin?” I ask. She slows to a stop and stares down at her feet, all shyness and performance. Still, I don’t buy it. “Let’s see.”

Her big, stormy blue eyes brew thunder as she looks up at me. “You want to examine me?”

I admit the idea of examining her is mildly appealing, but it’s not a search for a hymen; it’s a judge of character, a way to see if this is an act, if she’s more comfortable with her sexuality than she lets on.

“Lie down on the bed,” I instruct. “No underwear. No pants.”

“But, Kenzo,” she says, hesitation in her voice. She doesn’t finish her sentence.

“The door is right there,” I say, pointing to the exit. “No one’s making you stay here.”

She grits her teeth, but then she stomps over to the bedroom and follows my instructions.

She lies on her back and keeps her eyes on the ceiling, then she shimmies out of her pajama pants and underwear.

Her pussy is soft and hairy, exactly like I remember from the gala. I salivate at the sight; she’s perfect. Her thighs are shoulder-length apart, but I kneel at the end of the bed, peering between her legs. Her decadent slit. Dark red hair. Freckles on her thighs. Her knees lock out, nervously straight, and her eyes stay fixed on the ceiling. I stand up again, looking down at her.

“Touch yourself,” I murmur.

She angles her head to look at me, and I grab a pillow and slip it under her head. Tension swims in her eyes at the gesture, but then her focus gravitates to my cock, the bulge growing in my pants. She averts her eyes to the ceiling again as if she’s going to get in trouble for looking at my dick.

“You like what you see?” I chuckle. “Touch yourself. Show me how much you like it.”

She cups her pussy like her hand is underwear, but she doesn’t move. Her neck is red, and her baggy shirt still covers her breasts, but her nipples are erect, pushing against the fabric. I rub a hand over my pants, my hard length twitching at the contact, yearning for her.

“You’ve never touched yourself before?” I ask.

She meets my eyes and bites her lips. “What do you want me to do?”

For a second, I lift her hand so I can see her: a drop of need pools at her seam, dripping down to her dark hole. I lick my lips—fuck, I wish I could taste her right now—but this is a game. I want to mess with her. To test her limits. To see if she really is an innocent little angel. To see how far it takes to make her run, or if she’s already too enraptured to leave.

But with her pussy dripping and soaking the bed sheets, it takes all of my strength to stay in place, inspecting her. I move her hand back, letting her cup her pussy once again.

“You like being watched, Vi?” I ask. “That’s why you didn’t stop me at the gala. Your pussy is wet already, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” Though she keeps her eyes on the ceiling, her pupils dilate. She likes when I talk dirty to her then. “Do you see how hard my dick is, just looking at you? A shirt on. Your pussy covered by your hand. Do you know what I want to do to you right now?”

At those words, her fingers twitch, the friction rubbing against her clit.

“Go on,” I murmur. I kneel again so I’m closer to her. I whisper in her ear, “That’s it, baby.”

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