Page 132 of Ruin Me With Lies

“I don’t think you’re capable of being humbled.”I sip my drink.“You could have everything you own stripped from you, your dick chopped off, and you’d still be a cocksure, egotistical menace.”

He laughs, and it’s so infectious I end up laughing too.Why is his laugh so...pretty?

“You don’t like me.Got it,” he says, but there’s something beneath it.A tinge of disappointment, the faintest trace of dejection.

And just like that, I feel like shit.

God, I’m such a sucker.Even knowing it’s emotional manipulation, I’m slipping and sliding straight into his web.

“Hey…” I extend my leg to rub against his.Weakling that I am.“Of course I like you.You think if I didn’t, I’d have sat there and watch you sleep instead of dumping boiling water on your domineering ass?”

Like a kid just told he can have chocolate cake for dinner, Stefano grins and preens like a smug peacock.This is the same ruthless king of Vegas, right?Someone didn’t body-snatch the real one?Because who on earth is this adorable, needy man?

It’s like false advertising gone right—getting something completely different from what you ordered, and somehow liking it even more.Jarring at first.Butbetter.Unexpected, and better.

“Yeah, I like you,” I reiterate, more for myself than for him this time.Because it’s starting to dawn on me that I’m falling for him all over again.Not the man IthoughtI knew.But this version.This impossibly complex, infuriating, tender, terrifying version.And falling for this version of him?It will be my ruin.“I really, really like you.”

~

STEFANO FINDS MEplaying pool solo in the game room downstairs.He comes up behind me and nuzzles into my neck.

After dinner, he’d gotten sucked into a string of work calls, which left me wandering again, this time to the rec room that had Lorenzo Castello written all over it.RGB lighting, slick gaming decor, and every kind of game table and machine imaginable.

Across the house is another room with just a grand piano, a lush chaise, and shelves of poetry books.No mystery who that one belongs to.

“How’s it going at Black Gold?”I ask, chalking my cue.

“Overflowing.Usually is when the weather’s like this.That’s why I can’t get a moment’s peace.Shit gets rowdy when the floor’s packed.”He hums against my skin.“But the headache’s worth it once we count the take.”

“Have you been updating Lorenzo?”

“Mhm-hmm.”His hands glide up my thighs and disappear under my dress.“Why do you keep leaving me alone?”

Gripping the pool stick tighter, I push my ass back against him.“You’re hardly alone with all those phone calls.”

“Those calls are nuisances, not companionship.”He smooths his palms over my ass before giving one cheek a light, punishing slap.“Stay where I can see you...or take me with you.”

“I didn’t peg you as the clingy type.”My breath hitches as he slips a hand between my thighs and strokes my lace-covered pussy.“I th-thought a big, strong macho like you would n-need your—mhmm…your space.”

“Who said I was a big strong macho?And so the fuck what if I want to burrow under your skirt like a lost and needy little pup?”One finger circles the area where my clit’s pulsing against the fabric, and the teasing motion has me rotating my hips, holding back a moan as I rub my ass against him.“Who knows how long I’ll have you for?”

Why does he keep alluding to me leaving?What does he know?Orthinkshe knows?

Flattening a warm palm between my shoulder blades, he urges me forward.“Bend over for me, beautiful.”

No hesitation.I drop the pool cue, roll the balls to the other end of the table, and lay my torso flat across the felt.

He lifts my dress, gives my ass another sharp slap, then lowers to press slow kisses across the heated sting.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs from below, sliding his hands between my thighs again.

Two fingers sweep my panties aside, and then his mouth is on my pussy, sucking on my clit.

“Ohhhh!”A violent current of heat zaps up my spine and coils tight in my belly.My knees damn near buckle as a shudder runs through me.“Ahhh…mhmmm.”

Gripping my ass, he works me over with smooth, languid strokes of his tongue.Intermittent little suctions that tease, tantalize, drive me mad, but never quite let me fall.

Stefano Castello eats pussy like ancient poetry.Like classical music.Slow and measured.Gentle and exact.In stanzas and verses.Strumming all the right nerves, lulling me into a kind of drugged euphoria where pleasure builds and builds with every lick, every pull, every flick.