Page 1 of Hexed
PROLOGUE
VENESA (VEH-NEH-SAH)
TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD
“Do you ever think about death?”
It’s a simple question, but the man sitting underneath me—tied to the hotel suite’s wooden chair—doesn’t answer. Instead, he shifts, the bulge in his pants jabbing between my thighs. I slip my fingers down his dress shirt collar and behind his skinny black tie, and my chest skims across his as I lean in, my breath ghosting against the shell of his ear.
His body shivers.
Mine tries to recoil in disgust.
My lips are almost touching him, but I don’t bridge that last millimeter of space. After all, my lipstick is red, and I can’t stain his skin with the proof I was here.
“What?”
“You heard me,” I whisper. My grip tightens around his tie until I’m making a fist, my other hand now resting on his shoulder.
“Do I think about…death?” His brown eyes drop, locking on to my tits. My dress is low-cut, my breasts are large, and I’m using both to distract him.
Men are so easy.
My hips shift, sinking the full weight of my body into his lap, and he groans, his head falling back in either torture or pleasure—I’m not sure which. I imagine if he hadn’t asked for me to secure his hands behind him, he’d be gripping my waist so tightly, I’d bruise.
Luckily for me, Joey here has a thing for being tied up.
I glance around his presidential hotel suite.
We’re in the center of the living room. I moved the chair as soon as I arrived, smiling as he asked me to take the black rope he brought and restrain him. Joey thinks I’m bought and paid for, but the reality is I’m so much more.
There’s a large brown leather couch in front of us facing the flat-screen TV, and behind his back are french doors leading to the primary bedroom. They’re open, showcasing a king bed with small foiled squares of mint chocolate on fluffy white pillows, the Marino hotel’s logo emblazoned smack-dab in the middle.
Joey isn’tactuallyspending the night here, and it shows in the pristine condition of the room we’re in. This hotel is just a nice place to hide some of his darker desires.
Like me.
Although I doubt I’m an escapade he ever saw coming.
Smirking, I yank him forward as much as the rope allows. “That’s right,” I drawl. “Death.”
“Not particularly.” He hesitates. “Do you?”
“All the time.”
It’s the most honest thing I’ll say to him tonight.
He frowns. “I didn’t bring you here to talk about weird shit like this. Now put those lips to good use.”
“Mmm,” I murmur, loosening my grip on his tie so he drops against the chair. “And here I thought we’d be having an enjoyable time.”
His body jerks so sharply beneath me, it makes me bounce.
A slow smile spreads across my face. “You all right? You seem a little agitated, sugar.”
He turns his face to the side, his ruddy cheeks growing even more splotchy. “I’m fine.”
“If you say so.”
