Page 2 of Phantasm
I can’t think when he trails his fingertips over my jaw. “I was hired to clean…sir.”
His lightened touch never falters, even when he warns, “If I find out you lied, Miss Taylor, I’ll destroy everyone you’ve ever loved. And it will be my pleasure.”
To my utmost horror, my lashes flutter when his fingers trail the curve of my neck. How can I be so affected by a man I hate? A man belonging to the secret society I’m here to destroy.
Delacroix slides his hands into his pants pockets. “Take off your clothes.”
My eyes flare as I choke on air. Did I hear him correctly? Surely, he didn’t say what I think he said. “Excuse me?” I blurt.
“Strip.”
A one-word command.
He watches me with unveiled disinterest. I get the distinct sense this is a test of loyalty. Delacroix, one of the most feared Elders of the Exodus, has killed for less. No one says no to him if they want to live to see another day.
My heart pounds harder as I reach for the zipper at my side and slowly lower it. The door is open, but not for long. Delacroix leans into me and pushes it shut. Then he steps back and waitsfor me to strip out of the dress. His heady scent is everywhere, like a spell cast by an evil sorcerer.
When the zipper is down, I slide the dress off my freckled shoulders. A shiver raises the hairs on my arms as the slight chill in the air licks my bare skin.
Delacroix keeps his attention on my face, scouting for weaknesses or a hint of betrayal. Anything that’ll give me away. The dress pools at my feet, and I stand before the monster of Vale in only my white lace panties and bra. I’m shivering, but not from the chill in the air or the freezing temperature in his eyes. I wet my lips, and Delacroix slips his hand from his pocket to finger my bra strap.
“You look so familiar,” he muses, the backs of his fingers brushing against my goosepimpled skin before he rips the strap with a hard yank.
A gasp escapes my lips. My tits bounce free, achy and heavy. I whimper when he palms a full breast. “My staff is carefully vetted, Miss Taylor, by none other than myself.” He tweaks my pearled nipple, and heat swirls low in my core.
My pussy clenches with my need for this dangerous man, whom I’ve vowed to kill tomorrow when the law is on my side. I don’t have a weapon at my disposal, so it would be foolish to try until I’m prepared.
My gaze slides past him to the letter opener on his desk. If only I could sink it deep into his side and watch him bleed out, but I can’t kill him now unless I want to face a hefty jail sentence. This time tomorrow night, however, he and any other fucker in this building is fair game. It’ll be my own funeral, too, but at least I’ll die knowing I tasted revenge.
“I recognize that look in your eyes.” His smoky, dark voice—like whiskey and cigars—warms me from the inside. “You’re plotting my death.”
A yelp escapes me when he lifts me by the waist as though I weigh nothing and carries me to his desk. My back meets the paperwork and Delacroix tears my lace panties from my body and stuffs them in his back pocket. Without hesitation, he wrenches my legs apart and stares at my shaven pussy. I can’t believe I came here in disguise with the sole intention of scoping out the place before tomorrow night, yet now I’m splayed naked on Mr. Delacroix’s desk like a buffet. Even if I want to say no, I can’t. It would blow my cover. Sure, Delacroix is suspicious, but he doesn’t consider me a threat—yet. I’d be dead if he did.
A hint of heat enters his eyes as he rakes them over my body. And then he reaches for the letter opener and uses it to trace my parted lips. “I saw you eye this up.”
My chest is heaving by the time he drags the letter opener down the curve of my chin and over my throat, pausing at my racing pulse point. “Were you planning on using it, by any chance?”
I hold my breath as he digs the sharp tip into the skin.
“You’d be dead before you could reach for it.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate me, sir.” It takes everything in me to speak steadily.
A hint of a smile touches his lips, almost like my response amuses him.
The letter opener continues its journey down my body, and he asks, “What’s your real name,Cecilia?”
“I told you my real name,” I croak, and he pauses, but I don’t dare look away from his intense stare.
Something darkens his expression before he places the sharp tip between my breastbones. A shiver takes over my body as he slides the blade to my navel and threatens with a whisper, “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gutted someone alive, miss. Word of advice: don’t lie.” Tossing the letter opener to the floor, hespears my slit with his tongue and grips me by the hips to hold me in place.
I throw my head back with such a loud moan that it borders on a scream. I have no shame. Since I’m here, in the enemy’s lair, I might as well enjoy his brand of poison. Delacroix’s skilled mouth and tongue feel divine. Not that I have a lot of experience to compare. I’ve only had sex once, and it was over before it started. Sex has never been something I’ve been interested in until now. Always too busy planning my revenge on the Exodus to waste time on bodily pleasure. But now that Delacroix fucks me with his tongue—owning me in ways I never knew possible—I can’t stop the embarrassing sounds escaping my parted lips. He licks and sucks and nibbles until my thighs shake. Rocking my pussy on his face, I chase my orgasm.
I’m just about to come all over his tongue when he rips himself away and plops down on the desk chair. The way he sits, with his elbows on either armrest, makes him look like a regal, bored king. “What’s your name, Cecilia?”
“Wha-at?” I stutter, barely able to lift my head. My clit pulsates almost painfully. Delacroix’s lips and chin are wet with my arousal, but he makes no move to wipe himself clean. Instead, he gestures to me, impatient. “What’s your name? Yourrealname.”
“Taylor,” I insist, closing my legs.
