Page 71 of House of Deceit

He groans at my words.

“That’s it. I’ll give you anything you ask for,” he says, his heart rate picking up against my back. Without hesitation, he sinks two fingers deep inside me. “You feel so good. Your pussy is so tight.”

He moves his fingers, curving them, hitting the perfect spot. His other hand travels back up my body before settling around my neck, adding pressure.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

I resist, wanting to see what he’ll do. As his hand tightens around my throat, my orgasm nears.

“Say it,” he growls in my ear, biting my earlobe.

“I’m yours,” I call out, grinding myself against his hand, chasing my orgasm. “You and me. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Every muscle in my body clenches as he continues fucking me with his fingers, whispering dirty things in my ear.

“Your pussy is squeezing my fingers. You’re so close. Come for me, Charlie. Come for me now.”

His words push me over the cliff and my entire body pulses with my orgasm. My moans are unrestrained as he keeps moving his fingers, letting me ride out my pleasure.

I melt against him, trying to catch my breath.

As I lie there coming down from my high, he raises his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean.

“You need to go back into the house,” he says, pressing chaste kisses to my neck.

Without a word I nod, moving my body slowly until I’m standing. He pulls me to him as he stands and places a hard kiss on my lips. The taste of myself on him makes me want to get him naked, but I know he’s right, I have to go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask, my arms around his neck.

“Count on it,” he says, kissing me before releasing me.

I turn toward the door, opening it and going into the one place he can’t follow. Into the House of Deceit.

This was not how I meant for our first real moment after our kiss to go, but then again, I never intended to fall for my keeper, either.

My hands are pruning in the warm, soapy water as the stack of breakfast dishes is dwindling at a slow, steady pace, while an apron with strawberries on it protects my dress. The dishwashers have been out for a few days. Production has tried fixing them, to no avail. We’ve been promised a service technician should be here tomorrow. Until then, it’s up to us.

“Do you have any idea who the deceiver is this week? Because they need to pay for this one. I’m tired of washing dishes,” I complain to Keith.

“Just be glad we are on the breakfast shift. Dinner has way more dishes.”

The sponge slips out of my hand and into the water. I reach in, searching for it. I scream. Water flings all over me, and Keith grabs me and pulls me back from the sink. He grabs my hand roughly and checks both sides.

“What the hell happened, Red?” he asks once he’s confirmed I’m uninjured.

“Something touched my hand,” I tell him.

“Something touched your hand? You acted like you stuck your hand in a live garbage disposal. ‘Bout gave me a damn heart attack.”

“I’m scared of sharks swimming through the pipes and chomping on me.” Watching scary movies with Courtney when we were young was a bad idea.

“Christ’s sake,” he says gruffly, dragging his hand down his face.

I move back toward the sink, but he stops me with a hand.

“I’ll wash.” He holds out the towel he’s been drying with, and I snatch it out of his hand.

“You think one little shark is in the sink, and you’re relegated to drying. This is some horseshit,” I mumble under my breath.

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