Page 78 of The Truths that Deceive

The kiss is the perfect precursor to sex in and of itself. And she fits. We click. There’s a thing there, the chaseand hunt, the defiance and submission, the delirious pleasure in catching her. That’s all the kink, the deepest part of me.

But the fact our lips and tongues and bodies meet and make the other flicker works on a fundamental level.

If I had to take her, right now, we’d just have vanilla sex. Fuck, if I had to light some candles and wine and dine her to bed I would, and I think it might be just as good as the adrenaline-soaked rush of a physical chase. Just as good as the gun pointed at me and the will she, won’t she pull the trigger.

Sure, I knew it wasn’t loaded.

She didn’t.

She didn’t even check.

Right now, I want to say fuck everything, ignore what I’m planning and just enjoy the ever-loving shit out of her right up to handing her over and collecting my paycheck.

I kiss my way along her throat, her skin soft and delicate, the heat of her rapid pulse a delight on my tongue.

I don’t need to do this. Dig into her secrets, find out more about the guy who’s interested in sex slaves and new, classified weapons. I can just hand her to the CIA and still poke around for Jones later.

“Fuck.” I break the kiss, brushing back her silky hair as her glazed eyes try to focus. I keep one hand tight on her because she’s swaying a little too much. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t… I wouldn’t…”

“Pull the trigger?” I brush her lips with mine. “Don’t ruin it. I have to go.”

She wrenches free, grabbing at the island. “Where?—?”

“Not your business.”

“Are you going to keep my brother safe? Maybe help me with this guy who—” She stops, swallows, and something cold and sticky moves down my spine at what she might not be telling me. “With the guy?”

“I need to go.”

She snatches up the wig and puts it on. “The sex club? The creepy one? Is that where we’re going?”

“Where I’m going, as in not you, not we. Fuckingme.”

She looks around, frowning. “If you had a knife block, I’d grab one and?—”

“Hit me with the block? Stab me with a knife? Slice my neck?” I smile. “I’m honored. Two bloodthirsty threats from you in one night. You’re staying the fuck here.”

“I won’t be here when you get back. You’ll never find me.”

“And how do you think you’re getting out?”

She stomps off through the living room to the floor-to-ceiling glass window that reflects back a ghostly reflection, and she uses it to fix her wig. “I have my ways.”

She probably does. I sigh. “Fine. Come on, but don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you.”

I’m not her father. I’m not her protector. I’m here to make sure she gets handed over. This is a detour, and if she wants to come… Hell, she can fucking come.

But I do make contingencies. I provided a mask and private suite in case she freaks out.

The car takes us there. She’s both dressed right and wrong. A rich woman who isn’t sure she wants to partake. I wanted my persona to be a man who does anything. But I can make it work. And yeah, the wig and the dress with nothing beneath is still hot as fuck.

Couples fuck as we make our way down to the lower level. Some people wear masks, others don’t. I grab a mask from a naked hostess with piercings in all the right places on her waxed body, piercings at her cunt set up just so her slit is open just enough to show off her swollen clit that glistens with juices.

As I fix the white lace mask, whichannounces she’s taken, onto Calista, I sit down on the sofa in the members’ section. One man is getting a very hands-on lap dance, and another is fucking a girl’s ass while another man feeds her his cock. A mistress makes her slave literally lick her boots.

“I’m not sure who this guy is,” I say to her, pulling Calista onto my lap and sliding a hand up her skirt to stroke her pussy, “but this is the designated area.”

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