Page 20 of Of Desire And Deception

Fuck him over.

Chapter Seven

Sometimes I forgot to buy groceries. It wasn’t intentional. Food was a necessity, but not always a priority. I didn’t typically stop to have a snack when I was sequestered with guests in my dungeon.

Olesya had maintained my mother’s Sunday dinners since marrying Dante, and it was nearly a mortal sin to miss one of those family meals. I ate well at least one day a week and subsisted on a lot of protein bars and takeout the rest of the time.

Still, I had to fill my refrigerator sometimes. That’s why I’d ventured to the grocery store. Mondays were slower since everybody was back at work and in school, so I wandered the aisles with the retired couples who treated shopping like a lazy Sunday afternoon drive, getting caught behind them occasionally since they held hands and took up all the walking space.

The couple I was currently stuck behind intrigued me. I couldn’t shove my way past; that’s not how I was raised. Even if they weren’t my family, elders were to be respected. So I slowed my steps and watched where their hands were joined, gnarled from a lifetime of experience, their skin paper-thin and showing every blue vein beneath. The man shortened his gait to stay beside his wife, who proceeded in a stilted shuffle like her joints ached. He smiled down at her, seemingly happy to meander with his life partner.

They reminded me of my grandparents in Calabria. Though Nonno Arturo was the Don of the Vero family, he always had time to sit down with my Nonna. They had one of those marriages that withstood the test of time, and it fascinated me. My mother and father had been the complete opposite. After years of abusing her, my father orchestrated my mother’s death, collaborating with rogue Bratva soldiers to plant a car bomb while she was in a bakery.

Life had changed after her death. My mother had been one of the few people who hadn’t looked at me like I terrified her. She was so blinded by her maternal instincts that she continued to see me as the boy I’d been before my father dug his claws into my mind and warped it permanently. Her hands didn’t shake when she patted my cheeks and kissed me.

I missed that.

I wasn’t one to gravitate toward touch, and human interaction was generally a challenge for me if I wasn’t putting on one of my many masks. But thinking about my mother’s love made me restless.

The couple turned the corner ahead, and I sped up, going in the opposite direction. When I rounded the next aisle, I ran straight into a small person, knocking her to the floor.

“Sorry,” I said automatically.

“It’s fine,” a familiar voice assured me.

I looked down to find Wynn sprawled on the floor, and I immediately set my basket down and reached for her hand. Her eyes widened when I hauled her against my body, clasping her tightly to me. She was warm and soft, her curves fitting perfectly against me. Unlike her work uniform, her casual black sweats rode low on her hips, and she practically swam in a matching cut-off hoodie.

I’d knocked her bun askew in the collision, and I reached out in a futile attempt to arrange it back on her head. “I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s because you weren’t looking,” she answered with a smirk. Her teasing tone made my cock twitch in my jeans. She batted my hand away and pulled the elastic from her hair, bending over so her blonde locks flipped over and brushed my torso, down over where that obnoxious part of me strained toward her in my pants. It twitched again.

My mind went straight to thoughts of her on her knees, taking my thick length into her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks as I forced her to choke on it. I’d wrap that white gold hair around my fist; press my knife to her breast as she stroked that sensitive place between her legs. I practically shivered at the idea, forgetting we were in the middle of the store.

My hand moved on its own accord, my fingers threading through those long golden strands, pulling, then twisting until the entire shining mass wrapped around my fist, tilting Wynn’s head up. Her lips were mere inches from my throbbing cock.

“What are you doing?” she breathed, freezing. The uncertainty on her face, that touch of worry because she didn’t know what I would do, but she was entirely at my mercy, only made me harder. If a dick could have punched a hole through a zipper, mine would have.

I tilted my head to the side, taking in the little tells that Wynn was giving. Shallow breaths. Flushed face. Dilated pupils. I tested my theory by tightening my hold on her hair. Her lids lowered ever so slightly. Yes, she liked it.

She’d asked me something, hadn’t she? I struggled to remember what it was. Oh, that’s right. I didn’t have an answer for her. “Fuck if I know.”

“Well. You can’t do it in the middle of a grocery store.” Wynn’s fingers covered mine and gently pried them free of her hair, her hands working the messy locks into a semblance of a bun on top of her head. It made me want to tear the elastic out and smooth everything down.

I almost did it, but pulled my hand back, balling it into a fist at my side. When I still had the compulsion, I let my fingers trail over my concealed knife. That helped quell the urge to control her. My eyes followed her movements as she picked up her basket of groceries.

A little mess looked right on Wynn.

I had to remind myself it wasn’t socially acceptable—or legal—to pin her against the shelves, yank those sweats down, and discover what she felt like with my cock. Fuck. I needed a distraction.

Reaching down, I grabbed my basket, quickly rearranging the items displaced in the collision. It wasn’t until I finished that I realized Wynn was watching me with narrowed eyes.

“You have everything arranged by size and type.”

I followed her gaze to the groceries in my basket. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” My brows furrowed, and I tried to understand why her voice held a mocking lilt. Nothing was amiss with my groceries.

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