Sexual Deception (New Adult Interracial Romance, Bad for You Series Vol #1) (2 page)

Several feet lay between us. I kept note of the space, never letting him get too close and always making sure I had an ability to run away. But then Kane wasn't known in my world for chasing, he was recognized for stealth and a silent precision that shoved even the psycho crime bosses on edge.

“Melody, please sing for me.”

“I'm thinking about it.” I scanned his office and spotted no other chair besides the one behind his desk. It was like he didn’t want any visitor to get comfortable in his office . Yet, that thought didn't fit his persona. He'd just ran out to me like a bold, charismatic man. Wouldn't a man like that yearn for people to come into his office, sit down, and at the bare minimum listen to him talk about how awesome he was?

This isn't you. This office is what you want people to see.

I turned back to the books and checked out the rest of the titles. Philosophy dominated the categories on the shelves.

This office may not be you, but these books are you, or maybe sort of like your obsession.

You're addicted to reading, but not just any type, stuff that analyze the world or wait. . .things that look
into the human mind and try to figure it out.

I smiled.

Maybe he isn't a pawn. Maybe he is a knight.

“Shouldn't you start the negotiations?” I placed the book back on the shelf, faced him, and realized with a shiver of fear, that he was right next to me. He was fast without making any sound. I hadn't even caught his footsteps on the tile floor nor heard any breathing or movement of fabric as he came my way.

This is why people pay him thousands to kill. A person probably couldn't hear or see him
coming if he didn't want them to.

“I need you in my bed tonight.” He stared at me. It was deeper than anyone had ever looked at me. I could feel it as he studied me with his eyes.

Who do you think I am, when you see me?

“How much are you willing to give?” I asked.

“You say that you don't have sex for money, so then what is the price?”

Good memory. I'll have to watch all of my lies.

“What do you want from me, Melody?”

“Two things. I'll tell you the first now and the second later.”

“I'll need to know both.”

“No, you don't.” I smirked. “You'll be satisfied with the first and then take what I give you.”

He seized my waist with those big hands. “And what will you give me?”

“A taste.”

He inclined toward me, smoothing his chest against my treacherously stiff nipples. “What's the first thing you want?”

“To sing at your gallery showing.”

“And you'll be in my bed tonight?”

“No. The showing is Saturday, which is tomorrow. I'm not going to give my body to you, if you haven’t given me something first.”

“What if you don't come to my bed after you perform? This sounds like a gamble for me.” He brushed his lips against the curve of my neck. “How can I make sure you'll be there?”

I raised my knee between his legs and nuzzled it against his erection. “Take it out.”

“Please tell me you're talking about my dick.”

“Yes.”

He leaned in closer. “Take it out for me.”

Interesting. I'd guessed that he'd pull his cock out like a fumbling idiot.

I unbuckled his jeans and opened them. Black boxer briefs greeted my eyes. A thick tool pushed the smooth fabric up a little.
“Nice size.”

“Is that right?” He moved in closer and embraced the sensitive area on my neck with his soft lips, drawing a whimper from me that I'd never intended him to have.

“I like hearing that,” he said.

I inched away as he tried to suck on my neck again. “I didn't say you could touch me yet.”

“But you didn't say I couldn't.” He captured my lips, before I could protest or stop him. It was too late as I dug my hands in silk briefs and clasped my hands onto his thickness.
Really nice size.

Quickly, I ran my fingers down his length and formed my hands around the tip. The move snared his attention. His lips stopped working their magic on my mouth as he backed a few inches away from me and groaned. “I don't know if you can sing, but your hands are skilled.”

“You like that?” I outlined his erect head with my thumb.

“Yes.” He licked his lips.

The best way to determine a man's worth was the way he handled himself when his dick was out. Many gave all their information away just for me to keep stroking them. They told me their secrets, whispered them between my sheets or screamed them against my breasts as they licked and sucked my nipples. Some threw it all away for my pussy. All of their worth, all of their life's treasures.

Others just died.

Watching Kane, I couldn't tell anything, but that he enjoyed my fingers on him.

But is he losing control?

His attention remained on me, but his stance was off. His feet appeared ready to move back or jump if someone startled him or burst through the door to attack. His hands rested on the tops of the books near me. When I risked a quick glance at those books, it looked like a metal compartment lay on the whole row as if he could press something and a weapon or anything would pop out. It could've been my own nervousness as I attempted to lure a dangerous killer into my game.

Or I could be right. He probably has weapons throughout this room. I bet he has a way to get to
them now, if I came off like a threat.

“What are you going to do with my dick, Melody?”

“Play with it, until the head sings.”

“It's not a toy.” He edged away so that his impressive erection left my hands. “However, I do like your style.”

Shocked that he took it away, I asked. “Where is your dick going?”

“Back in my jeans.”

“Why?”

“I don't need you to jack me off to show me you'll come through.”

Buy why not get his rocks off when he could?

He put himself back into his jeans and closed them. “Give me your number?”

“No.”

“Then I'll just have to trust that you'll be here tomorrow evening at seven?” He stepped back some more.

“Yes.” Impressed, I nodded. “I guess so.”

“Then I'll see you there.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but stopped.

What the fuck just happened?

His gaze journeyed down my whole body—massaging every cell with his hungry eyes and

delivering a shudder through me.

I'd planned on making him come all over himself, so hard he couldn't think straight or wonder about anything but me. This wasn't how it all was supposed to go down, but that didn't worry my pretty little head. I adjusted the game with every move. No matter how many times I guessed and played out the possibilities of other's future actions, I was always wrong sometimes. During those instances, I reversed or went with it, jumped over the hurdle or knocked it down. Either way I survived.

And this time I will too.

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Kane.”

He displayed a satisfied grin. “I can't wait, Melody.”

Chapter 3

King Safety

~Kane

Melody left me in my office with the stiffest hard-on I'd had in my life. It was one of those puberty erections I use to get when I was a teen and spotted something so erotic I couldn’t control my body’s reaction or take my mind off of it. I had a young English teacher that wore tight skirts and kneeled over my desk, just right, when she returned my completed assignments. I would be solid the rest of the school day, forced to take care of it in the bathroom, if I got privacy.

I'll have to take care of this. I should have let her do it. Damn, I wanted her too.

But something didn’t sit well in my gut. I always listened to it. That one part of me worked the best when my head and dick concentrated on lusty things. That moment with her fingers stroking me, my gut ordered the rest of me, to tread slowly. So I stopped.

Plus, things didn’t make sense. At one moment I begged and chased her outside on the

sidewalk. The next, we were in my office and she had my dick in her hands. Before she was ice cold to my begging. Later, too eager. Something was up, but I didn't know what or why.

I hope I'm wrong because damn, I have to give it to her bad.

My fingers shook as I wiped my face. Thoughts of Melody's experienced hands locked my

brain into this titillating state of horniness. She had tightened her fingers around the tip with precision.

“What a good girl.” A chuckle fled my lips.

When was the last time, a female had me this blown over her touch? No one. Not since Teagan.

Realizing that Teagan was the last woman who'd made me this crazy in the beginning wasn't a good sign at all. With the amount of lovely ladies I'd fucked, I could always decipher the inexperienced ones from the pros. Teagan was a pro.
Probably Melody too.
Not exactly a hooker, perhaps, but definitely a woman who knew her way around dick.

She damn sure will know the way around mine soon.

Yet my gut nagged at me, questioning what two things Melody required to finish our deal. She said one was singing, but it couldn’t be that simple.

There's something else going on.

My phone vibrated. I checked the text message.

Julio:
Can we meet?

I clenched my teeth and typed in a response.

Me:
Yes. Where are you?

Julio:
In my club, as always. What? You want me to come to the gallery?

Julio didn't need me to confirm the answer he already knew. I never liked him or any of his kind in my gallery. No one came to my property without permission from me. The only time they could break the rule was on the second Saturday of every month. This Saturday.

What do you have up your sleeve Julio?

My gallery rested in the center of Wynwood Art District which was a neighborhood in Miami, home to over seventy galleries, photography studios, museums, lounges, and collectors. Hipsters partied here in the evening. Hoards of artists created on these blocks during the day. On every second Saturday of each month, influential artsy folk, rich adventurers, and the top power players of the city hopped in their luxury cars or limos and came down to explore the district from five in the evening all the way to five in the morning. It was a social occasion for the cultured and it helped that the occasion called for live musical performance throughout the streets as well as liquid spirits and drugs for anyone eager to get high.

The best of the best loved Wynwood and bragged about the district to out-a-towners or

Miamians who simply weren't in the know.

But what people never talked about was the surrounding impoverished neighborhoods outlining the entire art section. Ten years ago, several art dealers decided to purchase cheap property and form a community of creative beings. The lowest property values resided near the worst ghettos in the city.

Nevertheless, they bought up in the area anyway, not because they were courageous or yearned to help the less fortunate around them. They jumped on the sales because the head guy that came up with the idea also happened to be one of the top Cuban mafia bosses in the states.

Miguel Batista.

He guaranteed all of the investors' protection. Due to that, money flooded the district, whether dirty or clean, all Miami's dollar bills traveled through this area at one point in time. It was an art mecca right in the center of the hood. And not one burglary or murder officially occurred in the area because Miguel kept his top four killers in the district.

I was one of them, but had no idea who the other three were or what they looked like. For all I knew, they didn't even live in Miami and perhaps monitored the center from a far.

None of that mattered to me.

I focused on my responsibilities and did them. My jobs were maintaining balance in the district and making sure all the bad guys nicely played along with each other.

I just focused on my tasks.

When Miguel first asked me to do it, less than ten years ago, I'd been freelance, and not owned by anybody.
But money talks.
He offered me top price. I countered that I would only be able to do the job for ten years. We shook on that. I'd been prepping his son, Julio for the past two years to take over once I retired.

This is my last year dealing with Julio's crap.

I tapped the frame of my bookcase. Every metal door above my books opened. For years, I'd perfected clever ways to get to my weapons without others knowing the location. The shelves were the best method but nowhere near complete. Anybody else in the office could simply dive their hands into the opened compartments and grab a gun. To solve that, some of the guns held no bullets. I knew which ones had them and which ones didn’t. Still not an ideal fix, but all I had in place for now. The official solution was to stop needing to have weapons in my office to begin with, which was why I barred Julio and his type from coming near my space, besides second Saturdays.

My phone vibrated again. I checked the text.

Julio:
Oh yeah.
Teagan is here.

Then I'll need money.

I took the back way out of my office, that I only traveled through and a small list of females that I trusted enough to take upstairs into my condo. Everything I loved rested above my gallery, significant childhood memories and locked away photos of family that I could never contact, the books I collected and most of all, my love-hate stacks.

My money.

* * *

Slow rap music flowed through Night Pleasures strip club as I entered. The spot was one of the smallest in the city due to the very private clientele. It just had five tables with four chairs around it, a small bar to seat six, and then a stage big enough for two dancers. To get in cost fifty dollars, where other clubs charged nothing at the door. Dance prices ranked the highest in the state. Just to have a gorgeous woman caress my lap with her thick hips I had to pay two hundred dollars. Anything more and the bill rose to four figures.