The Villain

“Me too, dammit.” Hunter smacked his cards on the table.

Devon, whom I gathered from our few interactions was a total snake, chuckled, his eyes moving between Belle and Cillian.

“Is this a who’s-got-the-biggest-cock competition? Because Emmabelle, my darling, I would be sorely disappointed if you win.”

“But not undeterred,” Sam muttered. “Roll your fucking tongue back into your mouth. You’re drooling into the tortilla bowl.”

My sister stared at my husband expectantly, but Cillian hadn’t bothered noticing anyone in the room. His expert fingers were now playing with my clit, his thumb rubbing my slit under the table, unaffected by the fact everyone’s eyes were on him. Every muscle in my body tightened deliciously, begging for release.

I liked that we had an audience even though they weren’t aware of it.

“Show us your cards,” Emmabelle snarled.

“Ask nicely,” he schooled her.

“Goddammit, Kill, read the room. You’re about a snarky remark away from getting stabbed.” Hunter laughed.

Cillian turned his cards with his free hand. Everyone leaned over the table to examine them just as he slipped a finger into my core, curling it, his thumb pushing against my clit.

I gasped, twisting my fingers over the edge of the table.

Mother of dragons.

“Are you okay, Pers?” Sailor turned to me.

“I don’t know about her, but her husband sure isn’t.” Belle revealed her cards in triumph, making everyone wheeze. “You’ve got nothing, American Psycho. I, however, have a full house.”

Using both her arms, she collected the chips in the center of the table.

“I’m fine, just…just…” I panted, trying to string a sentence together, but Kill pushed another finger into me, now pumping in and out, the pad of his thumb still circling my sensitive bud. I was soaked, shamelessly trying to arch my back and grind against more of his hand. I was also pretty sure if people around us shut up for a second, they could hear the slurps that erupted when he played me like an instrument.

“You what?” Sailor pressed.

“I pulled a muscle in my foot.” I reached for my drink, forcing myself to swallow down a sip, my fingers shaking so bad the water sloshed over.

“Oh, shoot.” Ash scrunched her nose, pushing her chair back. “Let me have a look, maybe I can…”

“No!” I cried out. My husband fingered me deeper, faster, more possessively than he’d ever touched me. He was knuckle-deep inside me now, spreading me wide, making me feel deliciously full. “I-I’m fine now. Thanks.”

Cillian’s expression was empty as he examined Belle’s hand calmly.

“Beginner’s luck,” he decided.

Obviously disappointed by his lack of emotional response, my sister snorted.

“Don’t worry, Kill, I’ll clean out your chips by the end of the next game.”

“And my house, if that stripper club gig doesn’t pan out.”

Devon started dealing again.

I was panting hard, grasping the edges of my seat now, chasing his touch under the table. I’d never felt so hot and bothered in my entire life. Paxton and I had never had sex anywhere worth mentioning. What made everything a million times hotter was no one suspected what we were doing. My husband was the vision of everything elegant, golden and proper, wearing his icy, unapproachable mask while he did filthy things to me.

Kill picked his new cards when I reached my peak. I wrapped my fingers around his thick wrist under the table as I angled him where I wanted him and began riding his hand in a wave-like motion. My climax shook me to the core. Every muscle in my body clenched, my breath stopped, and my mouth fell open, an earthquake rocking me head-to-toe.

“My Gosh, Pers, you sure everything’s okay? You look in pain,” Ash lamented behind my eyelids. I blinked, drugged and satisfied.

“Another cramp. Sorry.” I knew my cheeks were flushed. Kill threw a card in a pile, drew another one with frigid disinterest. His hand retreated from between my legs, outside my panties.

He stopped to wipe my juices on my thigh, rearranging my dress above the smears of my climax.

“I better walk a little, stretch my limbs.” I shot up to my feet. “Anyone want anything from the kitchen?”

“Cognac,” Kill said, not withdrawing his eyes from his cards.

“Guinness,” Hunter gruffed.

“Cyanide.” Sam raised his hand. “Make it a double. This game is boring me to death.”

“That’s because you don’t enjoy money and always fold early.” Hunter snorted. “Why do you do that?”

“I don’t play to win or lose,” Sam explained.

“Then why do you play?”

“To study my opponents, find their weakness, and use it against them.”

“Ah.” Hunter nodded. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“You got my baby sister pregnant,” Sam scowled. “A little late for that.”

I locked myself inside the kitchen to steady my breath and wipe away any suspicious stains. I came back with a tray and distributed the drinks. Afterward, I loitered around the room, studying the artwork on the walls. Rustic paintings of the woods, lakes, and snowstorms. One of them drew my attention. It was of a moonlit cabin, but there was a thick, big cloud in its backdrop.

Aunt Tilda?

“Flower Girl,” Cillian clipped, using my nickname in front of everyone. All heads looked up in unison as though he’d spoken in another language. He pointed at my seat. I whipped my head from the painting.

“Show your sister which side you’re on.”

“You sure? It wouldn’t be yours.” I put on a sarcastic smile, but I was honest. Belle was my sister. I’d always have her back.

Belle laughed. “Ouch.”

My husband moved the remainder of his chips to the center of the table, unfazed.

“All in.”

Sailor and Belle looked at each other. Over the course of the evening, the games were pretty even, with Cillian, Sailor, and Belle ending up with about the same amount of chips.

Hunter, Devon, and Sam all folded, too entertained by the prospect of seeing Kill going against two women who wanted him dead to interfere.

“Me too.” Sailor pushed forward her pile of chips, turning to Belle. “You?”