Page 39 of The Art of Deception

What the fuck is going on?

The elevator keeps going and going. The dizzying heights have me questioning what freaking level Xander lives on.

The doors suddenly open to an entryway.

My head spins. I turn to Xander, but he ushers me toward thesmall lobby.

I knowexactlywhat this is—the entrance to a fucking penthouse apartment.

We arrive at two giant marble doors, and I dig my heels into the floor, grinding us to a halt. “What the fuck’s going on? This is a penthouse apartment.”

He tilts his head. “It is.”

I scoff. “I knew you worked in your family business, but you wear ripped jeans and tank tops. They don’t scream this kind of wealth, Xander.”

He reaches past me, sending an electric current straight through me. He holds a card to a scanner on the keypad that opens the doors, and he gestures for me to head inside. “Let’s go in, and we can talk about everything in a more comfortable environment.”

Flaring my nostrils, I turn, sliding past him through the doors into a vast open-plan apartment. The cool marble floors gleam under the soft glow of recessed lighting, and towering floor-to-ceiling windows reveal a breathtaking night sky dusted with stars. To the left, a grand staircase of dark wood spirals upward, a crystal chandelier cascading down its center, scattering fragments of light across the room. A long dining table, fit for extravagant dinner parties, rests in an alcove, its polished surface reflecting the ambient glow. Beyond that, a spacious living area boasts pristine white sofas that look almost too perfect to sit on. The kitchen? I haven’t the slightest clue where it is. Right now, all I can do is stand in silent awe, swallowed whole by the sheer opulence surrounding me.

It doesn’t suit the man I know—the Xander standing behind me right now.

I’m so out of place, like I need to tiptoe around everything in case I make a mark on the damn floor or break something.

It’s flashy as shit and not my scene in the slightest.

Fucking hell! Maybe I don’t know Xanderat all.

I glance at him. He senses my apprehension as he takes my hand and leads me toward the living area. It’s a little more comfortable here but still majorly swanky, and then he gestures for me to sit.

When I do, the sofa is soft, almost too soft. I’ve never felt anything so fucking comfortable in my life. This thing must have cost the blood of a virgin or something to maintain this kind of luxury. He stands in front of me. I see his mind ticking over too, but he appears calm, the calmest I’ve seen him all night—again, like a weight has lifted from his shoulders.

“I know you have questions—”

“Yeah, like, what the fuck is going on here, Xander?”

He takes in a deep breath and then expels. It’s like he’s going to say something, but then he pauses. “There’s so much to tell you.”

I snicker. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“But, it can wait for now,” he murmurs as his eyes glaze over, hooding with lust. “I can’t tell you how good it is to finally be sharing another piece of me with you, Tomi.” He bends down, his eyes on mine as his hand slides in behind my head to grab hold of my hair. He tugs my head back, pulling my face up to meet him as I gasp. His lips capture mine. Sparks erupt inside my body. I love it when he’s rough with me.

My hands slide up under his leather jacket, pulling it down over his shoulders. He lets it fall to the floor as my hands reach up under his tank top, lifting it over his head. It cascades to the floor as he slides in, pushing me back on the sofa, his body pressing down on top of mine as our tongues collide frantically. My legs wrap around his waist as he grinds into my pussy. My clit is throbbing so damn hard I can hardly contain myself.

He kisses me so full of need, so full of lust, that I find it difficult to breathe. We rock together, grinding against eachother like a couple of horny teenagers.

Desperation fills me.

I need to feel him—I want him so bad I don’t even care about all the other stuff around me right now.

My hands move in between us, and I fumble for his belt. He shifts his weight to allow me to undo it, and I rip open his fly, then yank his jeans over his ass.

We’re both panting for frantic breaths as he shifts his weight enough for me to grab my jeans and work them down, then slide them off one leg. The tip of his cock sits on my stomach. I can’t wait. I simply need him, so I yank my panties to the side as I edge him closer to me. He agrees with the quick pace as I angle him to my opening.

He wastes no time thrusting inside of me. We both moan out loud at the delightful friction it causes. It’s good to be vocal and express our emotions because, at my place, we can’t do that. But here, we’re free to say whatever we want or moan as loud as we like.

He thrusts deeper, hitting that spot just right, exactly like he knows how to.

I throw my head back in utter content. “God, yes,” I moan as he thrusts into me.

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