Page 31 of Cunning Lies

“No. Tomorrow. After work.”

I laugh nervously. “Here?” I squeak. I point to the road behind us. “There are people down there.”

“So what? You don’t like showing off?”

The idea of getting caught and shamed by an onlooker turns me on more than I care to think. Maybe it’s the way I was raised. Uncle Jay and Patrick always discouraged any crushes. When I kissed a man once, someone they weren’t targeting, they told me I was going to ruin our system if I got a disease or became pregnant.

The idea of doing something like this—so out in the open, and without alcohol blurring my senses—makes me boil with recklessness. And freedom. Even if I’m still doing this for my family, it’s almost like I’m doing this for myself too.

I’m a researcher. And curiosity keeps leading me back to Kenzo.

“You have a bed,” I say.

“But the bed is far away. And besides,” he winks, “It’s a nice night.”

I press my lips together. I’m not supposed to do this because I want to. I’m supposed to do this because it’s my job. I’m not supposed to like Kenzo.

“Maybe I can…” I lower myself to my knees, but he pulls me into his lap.

“No,” he growls. “Don’t worry, Vi. I’ll teach you everything. You can be my good girl, can’t you, baby?”

It’s so derogatory, treating me like I’m incapable, but my body is molten, and I need more. More of those degrading words. More of him.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he says, and my skin tingles. “Spread your legs and straddle me.”

I do as I’m told, and I swear the heat of his thighs is like an inferno incinerating me from the inside out.

“So good at following directions,” he murmurs. “Remove my belt.”

My fingers twitch over the metal buckle, and as the black leather slides through the loops, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if Kenzo smacked the leather against me. Or draped it around my neck, guiding me like a leashed pet.

The hell is wrong with you?my brain shouts.He’s a job! You can’t think like that!

My eyelids flutter. I’m not the kind of person who likes depraved sex. Sex is work.Only work.A lesson to be learned. A job to finish. It’s how Patrick and Uncle Jay get our money. It’s how we survive. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Unzip me,” Kenzo says.

All of those thoughts erase.

As each tooth vibrates through the zipper, his bulge grows bigger, and my mouth waters. I pull his length out, my lips parting. He’s smooth and veiny and big. I had a feeling he’d be big, but he’s curved too, with that perfect angle to hit me right where I curl my fingers when I touch myself. My jaw drops, my mouth salivating.

“Touch yourself,” he growls.

My eyes glaze over. I squeeze my breasts through the thick wedding dress fabric. Kenzo beams at me. I must be doing something terribly wrong.Or so damn right.

“Such an intuitive virgin,” he says. “You learn quickly, don’t you?”

He knows you’re lying. And soon, he’s going to kill you for it.

“I just don’t want you to kill me,” I say. It’s almost true. I am scared for my life, but right now, I’m too turned on to care.

“What a good line.”

No matter how many red flags wave in my mind, I’m hypnotized. His degrading tone, the hints of praise in his voice. Even if he knows I’m lying, doing the one thing he asked me not to do, he can’t help but want me.

“What are you after, little Vi?” he asks, his eyes digging down to my core. He’s not talking about sex right now, but about the reason my uncle and I lied about my sexual history. He knows we’re here for the wrong reasons.