Page 59 of A Game of Deception
There was something liberating about acknowledging the twisted nature of our connection so openly.
“I passed your test,” I said, my voice low. “What’s my reward?”
Her answer was to close the final distance between us, her mouth finding mine. This kiss was slower, like two people who knew they had all night to explore each other.
I backed her against the wall, my hands finding her waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her tank top to touch warm skin. She arched into me, her hands threading through my hair.
“Bedroom,” she murmured against my lips. “Down the hall.”
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her through the apartment. The bedroom was as minimalist as the rest of the place—a queen-sized bed with crisp white linens, a sleek dresser, and little else. I set her down gently on the edgeof the bed, taking a moment to look at her—flushed cheeks, dark eyes wide with desire, lips slightly swollen from our kisses.
“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious under my gaze.
“Just making sure this is real,” I said honestly. “That we’re really here.”
Her expression softened. “It’s real, Xander.”
I kneeled before her, pushing her tank top up slowly, revealing inch by inch of smooth, golden skin that glowed under the soft bedroom light. She raised her arms without a word, letting me peel the fabric over her head and toss it aside like it was nothing. No bra—just her, bare and perfect, her breasts rising and falling with each quickened breath. Full and firm, nipples already pebbled from the cool air or anticipation, I couldn’t tell which. My cock twitched in my jeans, straining against the denim, but I forced myself to take it slow. This wasn’t a race; this was a conquest, a mapping of every curve and secret.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmured, my voice rough with need. The words felt too simple, too tame for the storm raging inside me, but they were true. Tara, offering herself up like a gift I didn’t deserve.
She reached for the hem of my shirt, her fingers brushing my abs in a way that sent electricity shooting through me. “Your turn,” she said, her voice husky, commanding in that quiet way of hers. I let her pull it off, then stood to shuck my jeans and boxers in one fluid motion, my erection springing free, hard and aching for her. Her eyes darkened as she took me in, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Fuck, that look alone could undo me.
We came together on the bed, skin to skin, her body soft and yielding against my harder frame. I captured her mouth in adeep, devouring kiss, my hands roaming—tracing the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, the firm globes of her ass. She moaned into my mouth, her nails scraping lightly down my back, leaving trails of fire that made me growl. Our first time had been raw, furious, a clash of bodies fueled by hate and history. This? This was deliberate, a slow burn that promised to consume us both.
I broke the kiss, trailing my lips down her neck, nipping at her collarbone before moving lower. My mouth closed over one nipple, sucking hard, teasing with my tongue until she arched off the bed, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Xander,” she gasped, and hearing my name like that—breathless, needy—stoked the fire in my veins. I switched to the other breast, my hand sliding between her thighs, finding her yoga pants damp with arousal. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and tugged them down, along with her panties, exposing her completely.
She was glistening, ready for me, and the sight made my mouth water. I spread her legs wider, settling between them on my knees. “I’ve wanted to taste you since that night,” I confessed, my breath hot against her inner thigh. She shivered as I kissed my way up, teasing, nipping, until my tongue flicked over her clit. Her hips bucked, a sharp cry escaping her lips. I held her down with one hand on her hip, the other parting her folds as I licked and sucked, savoring her sweetness, the way she trembled under my assault.
“God, yes,” she panted, her hands fisting the sheets. I slipped a finger inside her, then two, curling them to hit that spot that made her tighten around me. She was so wet, so responsive, her body clenching as I worked her higher. But I wanted more—I wanted to push her, to see how far this twisted connection could go.
I pulled back just as she was on the edge, her frustrated whine music to my ears. “Not yet,” I said, my voice low and commanding. I grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand, using my free one to trace down her body. “You like control, don’t you, Tara? But tonight, I’m taking it.”
Her eyes flashed with challenge, but there was heat there too, desire mingling with defiance. “Is that so?” she breathed, testing my grip. I tightened it just enough to make her gasp, then reached for the drawer of her nightstand—hoping, praying she’d have something I could use. Luck was on my side: a silk scarf, probably for her hair, but perfect for what I had in mind.
I wrapped it around her wrists, tying them loosely to the headboard—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to restrain her. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” I whispered, searching her face. She nodded, her pupils blown wide with lust. “Don’t stop.”
Kinky little minx.
I grinned, dark and predatory, as I kissed my way back down her body. With her hands bound, she was at my mercy, writhing as I teased her breasts again, pinching her nipples until they were red and sensitive. Then lower, my mouth on her core once more, but this time I added a twist—lightly spanking her thigh, the sharp slap echoing in the room. She jolted, moaning louder. “Again,” she demanded, and fuck if that didn’t make me harder.
I obliged, alternating slaps with soothing licks, building her up until she was begging, her body slick with sweat. When she shattered, coming hard against my tongue, her cries filled the room, her bound hands straining against the scarf.
I untied her quickly, rubbing her wrists as she came down, but we weren’t done. Not by a long shot. She pushed me onto myback, straddling me with a fierce grace that took my breath away. “My turn,” she said, her voice a sultry purr. She grabbed the scarf from where I’d tossed it, tying my wrists now—loose, but symbolic. The role reversal sent a thrill through me; this woman, so composed in her daily job, was unleashing something wild.
She kissed down my chest, her teeth grazing my nipples, making me hiss. Her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking firmly as she licked the tip, tasting the pre-cum beading there. “You taste like sin,” she murmured, before taking me deep into her mouth. I groaned, hips thrusting involuntarily, but she held me down, controlling the pace. Slow, torturous suction, her tongue swirling, until I was throbbing, on the brink.
“Enough,” I growled, tugging at the scarf.
She released me with a wicked smile, and in one fluid motion, I flipped us, pinning her beneath me. My hand found my jeans, and I dove into the back pocket, pulling out the condom I’d had the foresight to bring. My fingers were surprisingly steady as I ripped the packet open with my teeth and sheathed myself.
Then I entered her in one swift, certain thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She was tight, hot, perfect, her walls clenching around me like a vice. We moved together in that classic rhythm, missionary but so damn intense—her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper, our eyes locked as I drove into her.
But I wanted to claim her in every way. I pulled out, ignoring her protest, and turned her onto her stomach. “On your knees,” I commanded, my hand landing a light smack on her ass. She complied, arching her back, presenting herself to me. I gripped her hips, entering her from behind, the angle hitting deeper, harder. She pushed back against me, meeting every thrust, her moans muffled by the pillow. I reached around, fingering herclit, spanking her lightly again—reddening that perfect skin just enough to sting sweetly.
“Fuck, Tara,” I grunted, the slap of our bodies filling the room. She came again, her pussy fluttering around me, pulling me closer to the edge. But I held back, flipping her onto her side next, lifting one leg over my shoulder for a new angle. This position let me go slow, deep, grinding against her as I kissed her ankle, nipping at her calf. Her hands roamed my chest, nails digging in, marking me as hers.
Finally, I rolled us so she was on top, riding me like the goddess she was. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her hands braced on my chest as she ground down, circling her hips in a way that made stars explode behind my eyes. I sat up, wrapping my arms around her, our bodies slick and fused. “Come with me,” I whispered, thrusting up into her.
