Page 87 of Lord of Vice

We were both reeking of desire, the kind of unbridled need that could pull us into a realm of sadism and darkness. I sensed she was just as much in need as I was, the sensual scent of her perfume now infused with the fragrance of her longing. I could easily bury my tongue inside her wetness, lapping her for hours.

I had time.

Perhaps I would.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The thought was almost like a revelation, adding to the burning desire. She rolled her arms around my shoulders, tangling herfingers in my hair. As the kiss became more passionate, I yanked her against me, shifting my hand around to her back, cupping her bottom. My cock was hard as a rock, my mind spinning between my job and reputation and my wants.

The two should never mesh.

When I finally broke the kiss, I rubbed my thumb across her slightly swollen bottom lip, pulling it down. I kept my head lowered, my eyes locked onto hers.

“I am curious, my redheadedmalen’kiy yagnenok, how close are you with your roommate from before? What’s her name? Sheila? How did you come to live with her?”

The look on her face was priceless and telling. Hate was the first emotion that came to the woman.

“What did you call me?”

“Little lamb.”

“I told you that the bitch threw me out. Not that we were close anyway. She worked at the club and knew I had nowhere to stay that I could afford and begrudgingly made the offer. However, I knew very early on she was the main squeeze of Rocco Morelli. That didn’t place her on my Christmas card list even before she called Remington a smelly beast. Plus…”

When she sucked back the last word, I could sense she was hiding something else from me. “Finish it. What?”

“Nothing.” When she tried to look down, I refused to let her, pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger. I did what I could to soften my tone given the ugliness I noticed in her eyes. “Talk to me, Penny. Trust me right now.”

She licked her bottom lip and it wasn’t a sensual move but as if she was tasting blood.

“What did the fuckers do to you before you left?”

When she cinched her eyes closed, I could feel the need for violence creeping into my system. “It’s okay, Kraven. That part of my nightmare is over. The bastards just threatened me, good ole Sylvester knocking me halfway across the room since my potty mouth was active.”

Oh, I would enjoy crushing the motherfucker with my bare hands. “Both Morelli brothers will die.”

“You can’t go killing everyone who dared try and hurt me.”

“I can do anything I want. However, it begs a question and I want you to look into my eyes when you answer. You wouldn’t deceive me for any reason, now would you, pretty Penny?”

I sensed her confusion, the tiniest hint of fear creeping back in. “You fucker. You don’t want anyone else to touch me yet you act as if anyone who betrays you will be crushed beneath your feet? Then go ahead and do it, Kraven. Kill me.”

“I have no intention of killing you, pretty Penny. You mean far too much to me.”

She darted her eyes back and forth, still searching to find some resemblance to a soul. I hated to break it to her that even her goodness wouldn’t change that. “What happened? Why would you say something like that to me after what we’ve shared? What did I do all of a sudden other than try to bring you closer together with your own brother?”

Goddamn, I hated this shit.

“You did nothing wrong. That I know of. The reason I was required to ask is because in my world, I can never be too careful. Often, games are played, sometimes with dire effects. Trust is vital to me, more important than almost anything.”

“Trust is earned in my world, Kraven. That takes time in getting to know someone, in feeling safe around them. I don’t have that in my life. It was taken from me. Except you almost brought it back. Then you say something like that. What happened at that meeting? What did you learn that suddenly has you questioning my motives all over again?” She tried to push herself away but I refused to allow it, now gripping her arms tightly until she winced in a moment of pain.

“That my parents were murdered.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, Kraven. I am so sorry. I just… I’m so, so sorry.”

I’d always told myself that after years of the work I’d done, including observing people, that I was a good judge of character. That I could tell a liar a mile down the road. People could fake reactions, of course they could. They would cry crocodile tears and act sad or angry, bitter or desperate. But in the dangerous and ugly world in which I’d been brought up, the one emotion that could never be faked was haunted sadness.

And her eyes shimmered with buckets of the emotion.