Page 151 of Kings & Corruption

In the end, I was willing to risk my life for Emma’s. The only way to find out if the note was right about the Kings was to meet the asshole who’d written it.

Finished with my braid, I went back to the bedroom, pulled on the stockings, and slipped into the black velvet dress and shoes. I was glad I still had the coat Neo had sent for the welcome ball, because the dress didn’t stand a chance in hell of keeping me warm.

The hemline barely covered my ass, the lace top of the stockings peeking out when I moved, and my tits were in serious jeopardy of falling out of the cutout neckline. When I turned around, I saw that the dress plunged almost all the way to my ass, leaving precious little fabric to actually cover it.

“So much for leaving something to the imagination,” I muttered, returning to the bathroom.

I dug around in my stuff for some fashion tape, taped the neckline to prevent a nip slip, and put on the shoes and hat. I finished with the vintage watch and stood back to take in the effect.

I still didn’t know who I was supposed to be, but I had to hand it to the Kings: it looked great, definitely someone historical, probably from the early 1900s.

My phone dinged with a text from Oscar in the group chat.

Our life of crime awaits.

It was close to home, but I laughed out loud anyway.

In other words, get your ass down here. We’re not waiting.

I blinked in surprise when I realized the last one came from Neo.

Interesting.

He speaks for himself, Rock texted.I’ll wait forever.

I laughed again and got the gorgeous Fendi coat out of my closet. I’d wait to put it on so I could get the Kings’ approval on the way I’d put the costume together. Then I grabbed the purse and dropped a few things inside, including the pack of cigarettes, and a small flashlight I’d found in the garage.

I used the front staircase this time, because what was the point of having a staircase worthy ofArchitectural Digestif you couldn’t use it to make grand entrances on special occasions?

The Kings were standing in the foyer, and I knew immediately I’d nailed the time period on the costume. They all wore similar wing-tip shoes, baggy pants, dress shirts, and suit coats with wide lapels. Oscar and Rock looked elegantly old-school in fedoras, while Neo had slicked his dark hair back with something that made it shine under the light.

Rock whistled as I made my way down the stairs. “Jesus fuck,” he said, his mouth hanging open as he watched me descend the staircase. He looked like a movie star from the 1940s. “You look good enough to eat.”

The innuendo was clear in his voice, and my pussy throbbed at the idea of Rock’s face between my thighs.

I hit the foyer and gave a little curtsy. “I’m glad you approve.”

Oscar’s eyes raked my body from head to toe. His tongue darted out to tease the ring in his lip, and I was instantly wet thinking about the way it felt when he used the stud on my clit.

“I don’t know if we’re going to make it out the door with you in that dress, tiger.” I wasn’t sure whether his voice held a threat or a promise, but I was down for either.

“After all this,” I said, gesturing to the costume, “we are definitely making it out the door. Besides, you all look amazing too. Might as well show it all off.”

I made a point of including Neo in my gaze, just to be nice, but he didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

Rock slung an arm over my shoulders. “Know who we are yet?”

His expensive cologne went right to my pussy. I was dying for him to make good on the promise to fuck me, although I doubted tonight would be the night if (when) they found out I’d given them the slip at the ball to meet a stranger in the woods.

“Not a clue,” I said.

He reached under the console and pulled out three retro cardboard rifles. “Bonnie and three Clydes.” He handed one to Oscar and Rock. “Not as cool as the real thing, but you know…”

“Yeah, kind of frowned upon to have real weapons on campus,” I said.

“Exactly,” Rock said, as if they weren’t all carrying all the time.

I reached into Oscar’s jacket and felt around the smooth cotton of his shirt for the holster, the one holding a real gun. “Doesn’t seem like you’re too worried about the rules.”

---