Page 62 of Deception

The confines of my board shorts are so fucking tight that every movement, even slight, is torture. I’m unhinged by the ferocity of my need for her.

“Touch your pussy and I’ll leave you wanting until our wedding night,” I tell her while her hands reach the top of her bikini pants. With a testing glint in her eyes, Red edges lower. “Go on, pet. Do it, I dare you.”

I want her to. I want her to give me a reason to torture her. The clench of my muscles at the mere thought of punishing her body with more pleasure than she can take makes me ache. My hands clench at my sides into fists that are desperate to knot and pull at those long, thick strands while I tear her body apart.

The brat that she is, Lucy licks over her lips with a low groan, inching her hand lower over the front of her thighs, cupping the fleshy parts in each hand before stroking up to the juncture of her groin.

“I’ll still make you take my cock. I’ll fuck that mouth of yours until your throat is raw…” Crouching between her open thighs, I trace my gaze down to her pussy, lowering. “Maybe I’ll destroy your tight little ass instead, while you’re screaming for me to stop…”

“What if I don’t let you?” she rasps.

“You can fight me, but when has that stopped me?”

She swallows hard, a hand slipping onto the wet sand, clawing into it while the other cups her cunt.

Fuck, the punch of my heart into my lungs makes it impossible for me to catch my breath. My blood scorches through my veins, pounding down to my cock, all while she holds my stare with defiance burning back at me.

“I warned you, Red…”

24

LUCY

The car comes to a stop outside a small bridal store. Immediately, my heart pounds so fast that I might pass out. I’m already so tightly wound from his teasing on the beach. There’s not much more I can take.

“I have some errands to tend to,” Tomasz tells me.

There’s a tension between us that’s entirely new. I want to jump his bones, and he wants to fuck me too. Except he’s hell-bent on torturing me. If he thinks I’m going to last the next three days like this…

“You’re leaving me here? On my own?”

“Not quite,” he laughs lightly, tucking a tendril of my hair behind my ear. “You’re going to be my wife.” The instant I open my mouth to argue that the terms of our nuptials aren’t the norm, he adds, “Regardless of the circumstances we’re going into this, we are going to be tied to one another for a long fucking time.”

The way he cups my face makes my belly swoop. Butterflies flutter wildly while he caresses my countenance with his gaze.

“Do you have any feelings for me at all?” The question tumbles from my lips without warning.

I keep telling myself that this is nothing more than a twisted business deal. Our marriage is going to be nothing more than a farce. He took me like he has taken many other girls, and while he hasn’t sold me off to the highest bidder, I’m not foolish enough to think that there is nothing in this move for him.

After a short deliberation, he tells me, “I admire you. You’re strong. More than you know, and more than I’ve ever known anyone to be.”

“Admiration…is that why you fuck me?”

Chuckling, he traces his hand down from my face while closing the privacy divider with the other. The darkness that engulfs us once we are contained in the back of the Maybach has goosebumps breaking out all over my body. Our closeness suddenly feels so much more overwhelming.

“I fuck you,” he says with a low gravel to his words, “because it feels so damn good when I’m inside you.”

I swallow, trying not to whimper when he cups my breast in one big hand and squeezes.

“I fuck you because I can.”

The hitch of my breath chokes me as he pulls me onto his lap, manoeuvring me so that I straddle his thighs. He’s stayed true to his word on the beach. Apart from holding my hand or playing with my hair and the occasional touch to the curve of my back, he hasn’t touched me, even though he’s made a point of watching me. It’s part of his punishment, allowing me to see that he wants me as much as I want him, while I know he won’t take it any further than this.

“I fuck you because I want to,” he groans, cupping my pussy with his hand.

It’s a light touch but enough to burn through the lace of my underwear. His thumb strokes between the flat of my hips, and I collapse into him, ready for him to take me right here. For a moment, I think he might when he grasps my delicate knickers and twists them around his fist until they tear, tugging them into my slit until I can’t contain my pleas for him to take me.

With an arrogant crow, he pulls the wet lace from between us, fisting it in his hand as he tells me, “I fuck you, malyshka, because you want it. You need my cock.”

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