Page 39 of Wicked Deceit
“Fuck!” He howls, taking in several breaths. His hand slips between us, and he covers his junk, forcing his raging hard on down. Pain etches his face, forcing him to take several deep breaths before he could release his hand over his dick.
Looking down, I gently pat his dick, and he winces. “I’ll kiss it better,” I whisper with a devious smile, making him recoil.
His scowl could scare children away and make flowers wilt on the spot. “You’re fucking enjoying this too much.”
I shrug. “Maybe, maybe not. I told you, idiots, you didn’t have to do that,” I tsk, marching toward the closed door separating us from the rest of the house.
I wonder if he’d take me to his bedroom here and show me around. What exactly would Carter’s room look like? Like his apartment? Probably. It’d have trees growing out of it by now with wildlife creating their own habitat. I hesitate in front of the office door and look behind me. Carter lazily strolls toward me with his hands in his pocket and fiery blaze burning in his eyes. He settles behind me, clutching my hip. I feel every plane of his body and melt into him.
“You won’t be saying that when I fuck you with these new additions in a few weeks. You think my fucking tongue ring makes you see stars? Wait until my dick with these piercings hits your pussy walls. You won’t know what to fucking do with yourself, but fuck it. And then when you come, you had better scream my name, and Jesus Christ,” he hisses the last word, taking a step back from me, cupping himself. He doubles over at the waist, sucking in several breaths. A redness takes over his face, and his veins protrude from his neck from the pain of his boner.
“Poor, poor pierced baseball bat,” I murmur, tapping his hand that lays over his dick. I earn myself a death glare that would make any other person back up and run for their lives, but not me. I simply tap it again and snicker when he snatches my wrist.
“Wait!” He hisses, wrapping an arm around my waist and my mouth. He silences my movements. “Listen,” he murmurs directly in my ear, staring at the door with blooming terror in his eyes.
A murmured voice slips through the cracks of the closed office door, sounding too faint to hear what she’s saying. But it's enough to give us confirmation that Francesca is back and moving around. Several thuds happen right outside the door and move further away quickly. My ears ring when silence finally takes over the corridor outside the room, and we hold our breaths. His palm tightens around my mouth. I trace the tip of my tongue along his calloused hand, earning a grunt in return.
“Vixen, I’m going to need you to fucking stop that now. Seems we’ve run into a fucking problem, and that drugged up, gold digging bitch my dad likes to keep around just stumbled home from the soup kitchen early.” I stop moving my tongue along his palm.
“So, what do we do?” I murmur into his palm, and he sighs, pressing his ear to the door.
“It’s quiet now,” he grunts, taking his hand away, and wipes it down his jeans. “We might be able to sneak out without anyone noticing. I didn’t hear my fucking dad, just her. Hopefully she’s fucking passed out by now and drooling.” The clock in the room ticks through another few minutes as we stand rigidly against the door, not daring to move a muscle or leave the room.
Grabbing me by the wrist again, he opens the door. We step out one by one, with me looking directly into his back, and we stop suddenly. The aching tip of my nose squishes into his hard back, reverberating pain through my whole face. You know, the doctor said my broken nose would heal in four weeks, but I anticipated maybe a quicker recovery. It’s only been a week since I got out of the hospital, but it feels like a lifetime of suffering. It’s been so damn slow and painful. I can’t wait for a time when my nose doesn’t hurt at the slightest touch. It's so damn sensitive. Every time I scratch it, I want to cry from the overwhelming pain. Whoever beat my ass at the wreck site and took it out on my nose, should burn in the deepest depths of Hell. If this doesn’t heal properly, I’m tracking them down and shoving my foot up their ass.
I peek around his broad shoulders, and my entire body stiffens. Shit. You know, we could have been caught by Bigfoot himself, and it would have been better. He may have eaten us, leaving no evidence behind. But it would have been better than this situation. Hell, I would have taken Crowe again. At least I charmed my way out of that potential catastrophe. Instead, we get the worst person possible. I sneak back behind Carter, making myself look as small as possible.
“Carter!” Her over excited squeals echo through the small hallway, shattering my ear drums.
“Piper,” he growls, backing up. My back bangs into the closed door, forcing an oomph from my throat. I swear his foot moves to stomp on mine, but if he values his life, he won’t. His foot stops mid air, hovering above mine before he puts it back on the ground. Good, he values his life. “The fuck are you doing here?” he asks her through gritted teeth.
She scoffs, pulling me out of my weird thoughts. Jesus, I need to sleep better tonight so I can focus at our dinner tomorrow. I need to be tip top to endure my brother’s weird protective bull shit he’s no doubt going to pull. He already threatened their balls if they fucked me over. But, shh. I haven't told them that detail yet. They’d probably crap their pants in front of their football idol and whither away from the embarrassment.
I cringe at the sound of her nails hitting the screen of her phone. “Oh silly, you act like I don’t live here,” she says through fake cheer, setting my teeth on edge.
Every time I’m in her presence, something in the back of my mind sends off warning bells. Maybe it’s the overly sweet personality or the weird food references she gives. But what really stands out is the way she can go off in a matter of minutes. Like that one time in the cafeteria when I told her I didn’t need a tour, that Chase had already stepped up. She lost her shit at me. If it hadn’t been for Seger, I think she would have carved my heart out with her bare hands and sacrificed it to the macaroni gods.
“Yeah, but that’s the fucking point. You usually don’t fucking live here,” he growls again, and his fists tighten to almost white at his sides. Note to self, call Seger so they can punch the shit out of each other.
“Oh, sugar on my toast! You’d think me coming home to visit my mother wouldn’t be greeted by such hostility," she gasped but still typed on her phone through the entire exchange. “Besides, I was the one down at the soup kitchen helping until mother fell ill with a headache. I had to bring her back, you grouchy gnocchi.” I wrinkle my nose at the new reference she made. Where the hell does she get these ideas?
I lean into the warmth of Carter’s back, praying in the back of my mind the tiny psycho doesn’t see me standing here. If she looked up from her phone for a second, she would. So, I’m hoping her texting or whatever she’s doing keeps her distracted for long enough that she won’t catch a glimpse of me in hiding. For the love of God, please don't see me.
"Oh, cheese curds! Kaycee?" She gasps again, and I sigh into Carter's stiff back, mentally slamming my manifestation. If I had just kept my brain quiet, maybe she wouldn’t have looked up. But now, her beady blue eyes sear into me hiding behind Carter’s back, and she grins.
"Heya, Piper," I murmur, timidly peeking around Carter’s big back.
Her brows furrow, but something in her eyes hardens when she looks at Carter and then at me.
"We were just…" I trail off when Carter jumps in and steals the words from my mouth.
"Leaving," Carter snarls, clutching my hand. "Don't say a fucking word," he growls in my ear, sending sharp shivers down my spine.
“So damn bossy,” I yelp, forcefully pulled toward the front door we came through. My little legs barely keep up with his long strides as he rushes us down the hall and into the living room I never got to inspect. My eyes dart around, cataloging the simple decorations, matching the rest of the house.
"So soon?" Piper asks, running behind us with furrowed brows. "Daddy will be home soon!"
Carter stops dead, forcing me into his back again. You know, I love his strong back and his tattoos. And all the yummy hot muscles. My tongue aches to trace the outlines of every single piece of ink lining his body. Hell, I even love to sink my damn nails into his flesh when he fucks me hard. But I've had enough of running into it every five seconds and crushing my nose when he decides to just stop while we are walking. I scowl when his hand tightens on my wrist, and I swear the bastard is relaying some sort of message. Probably shut the fuck up and don't engage with the psycho. Yeah, that's probably it. I don't have to be a mind reader to know that's exactly what Carter wants to tell me. If I could read the grumpy man’s thoughts, it’d probably consist of: Shut the fuck up, Kaycee. Be a good girl, Kaycee. Don’t say or steal things, Kaycee. Sheesh. You’d think he’d be more grateful to me for all the crazy things I’ve done. It brought us together, now didn’t it?
