The double-entendre is hard to miss. I’m not the only one who catches it. Next to her, Isabella gives her supposed cousin a disapproving look that Dele simply ignores.
I take it back. Dele knows exactly what she’s doing in playing Addy Bianchi. In taunting Pray. In taunting me. And I’m as equally infuriated by it as I am aroused. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to pound my cock into her tight pussy. Make her come apart at the seams. Make her beg me to give her the release she desperately needs.
“You’ll have to tell me more later if we have the time today,” she adds.
I shouldn’t indulge her. I should glare at her. Make her know that I have no intentions of letting her get away with this. That the only reason I haven’t grabbed her by the arm, dragged her away, and locked her away somewhere in a cell for her own fucking safety is that it would draw too much attention and blow both our covers.
Maybe I’ll still do that eventually. Not forever. Just for a day or two as punishment. Because even though I could find plenty of uses for her in a cell, she’s a lot more useful to me outside one. But right now, right now, picturing her naked and clawing at my back and begging me to fuck her harder, I decide to play her game.
“Maybe I will. Today. If there’s time.”
Dele grins in response to my smirk, knowing as well as I do that there is no maybe involved. We’re going to find a way. She’s not leaving this city until I’ve had a chance to fuck her, regardless of what I have to do to do it.
Next to her, Isabella glares at me with her lips pressed tightly together. Well, looks like someone disapproves. Not that I care. Even in a supposed committed, public relationship, I’m still a notorious playboy. It wouldn’t be the first time I pissed off a family member for flirting with the wrong person since joining Pray.