Page 77 of Dangerous Deceit

I reach around her hips and flick her beaded clit in circles, and she immediately comes around my dick, choking my shaft like she’s determined to squeeze the blood out of me. I fuck herharder, hammering into her until the pleasure takes hold of me too. I pull out, coming on the back of her dress.

She goes to straighten herself, but I guide her until she’s sitting and facing me. All spread out like a dirty slut. Her wet pussy shines against the leather, drenched in her come. I contort myself in the back seat until I’m as close as I can get to her pussy, then I lick her sopping lips, shifting her until I can taste her ass, cleaning her off with my tongue. She tastes sweet and tangy, like an orange candy, and I can’t get enough. She shivers with delight. I lick around my mouth, savoring her taste on my skin. My dick twitches again.

My head is not back in the business yet, but for tonight, I don’t care. I just want to be with her.

“You’re fucking divine,” I say. I pull her thong back into place and let the fabric snap against her dark hole. She yelps, and I smack her inner thighs. “Had to clean you up,” I wink. “Can’t let a filthy thing like you in the front of my car. You dirty whore.”

“Pervert,” she teases.

“Only for you, baby.”

The drive home is quiet, and instead of playing my usual loud-ass rock, I keep Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” at a normal volume. I hum softly to the lyrics, and Vi bobs her head. A weight settles on my chest; she actually knows this song. I put a hand on her thigh, letting it rest there, and she puts her hand on top of mine. I take the long way home, so we can stay like this. So I can pretend like I don’t have to put anything back into place tomorrow.

When we make it back to the penthouse, the lights flicker on, and I see a new candle in the middle of the dining table. It’s in a glass container, and the label is decorated with hand-drawn flames. I sniff it; it smells like ash and ginger.

“That’s for you,” Vi says.

She leans her head against my arm, and my body surges with heat. I want her to feel that comfortable around me forever. To touch me whenever she wants or needs me.

But Niko’s words echo in the back of my mind:Can you handle your wife, Kenzo-chan?

I need to handle this. I need to handleher.

But that comes tomorrow. For now, I toss the candle between my fingers, marveling at the fact that she made something for me. It’s so fucking sweet, it’s almost irritating. Why does she have to be so perfect?

“You made a candle for me?” I ask.

“Inspired by you and everything,” she says. “I had the idea the other night. When we were in the desert with the bonfire.”

So much of our sex is out in the open, just out of reach of the public eye. Fucking her in a parking garage. On the balcony. Out in the desert next to a bonfire. Maybe it has to do with the fact I want everyone to know she’s mine. Or maybe it adds a level of danger and exposure that forces us to be our truest selves. When we’re fucking, I see straight into Vi’s soul, and she can’t lie to me. I let her see me too.

“Thank you,” I say. I kiss her on the forehead and nuzzle my nose in her hair. Tomorrow, I’ll take care of things. Tomorrow, she won’t be my wife.

But tonight, I want her in my arms.

CHAPTER 34

VI

I wakeup to an empty bed, silence smothering me like a sack of heavy weights. Kenzo always wakes up and goes to work before I even stir, but this time, it seems different. There’s no text message waiting on my phone, telling me where he is and when he’ll be back. There’s no scent of apple pie in my nose, a breakfast sweet he’s gotten for me. It feels like I’m alone.

“Hello?” I ask.

No one answers.

After I slip into a nightgown and shuffle on some slippers, I wander through the penthouse. One of the spare bedrooms catches my eye. The windows have been covered with black tarps, and there’s a red light glowing in the middle of the room. A video camera.

Kenzo sits on a chair in front of the camera, handcuffs dangling from his fingers. My chest tightens, not because of the handcuffs, but because of his expression. His brow is pinched, like it’s taking everything inside of him to keep his rage in check, and as he stands and steps closer to me, my heart palpitates. I fidget with the loose fabric of my nightgown, trying to calmmyself, but it doesn’t work. His body covers me in a deeper shadow.

“Sit,” he orders.

I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t mind following orders—in fact, I like when Kenzo gives them—but when I don’t know what I’m getting myself into, it makes it harder to obey. How is it that last night we fell asleep in each other’s arms, and now, he’s treating me like I’m just another yakuza victim?

“Why?” I ask.

He tilts his head, his chin held high. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I’ve seen that face before. When he came home from killing Patrick. He’s the cruel Kenzo now, the one who won’t think twice about bloodshed.

“I trust you,” he says, but his words are cold and flat. Like he’s mad at me.

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