Chapter 115: The Dangerous Game

Chapter 115: The Dangerous Game –Carrie– I heard there’d been chaos. The kind that sends people scrambling in designer heels and wrinkling their silk suits. They evacuated the penthouse above ours. No one told me exactly why, but Tyrona seemed to be in a suspiciously good mood. Could she have been the reason for the uproar? Possibly. Yet, when she leaned toward me, gossip dripping from her voice as she whispered about what had happened upstairs, she seemed genuinely oblivious. "But what happened after Deanne was taken?" I asked, swirling my champagne just to look busy. "Well, she came back after... what, three or four hours? Perfectly fine," Tyrona replied, her tone casual as she sipped her wine. Always elegant. Always poised. And always wearing that rare diamond ring—an exquisite piece I’d bet my Louboutin collection came from her boyfriend. Though, technically, Alejandro was no longer her boyfriend—he was dead. A sharp ache flickered in my chest. Not that I’m the sentimental type, but still... she’d lost him. And oddly, she wore white. Always white. Not the deep, tragic black of mourning, but something colder—perhaps her way of grieving, or maybe it was her statement of defiance. White for the wedding she’d never have? White for the purity of the revenge she’d planned with Alejandro to destroy Livana? Her hair was styled in that timeless, expensive updo. Dark lipstick framed her mouth, but her eyes—those eyes—were heavy with sorrow as she stared past the glass windows toward the desert city’s mirage-like skyline. I’m not a desert girl. Never have been. Yet here I was, because Tyrona had called. And for some reason, I came. Maybe because I’d finally slipped out from under Grandmother Olivia’s suffocating chain of bodyguards. I’m sure she knows where I am, but apparently, she’s decided not to care anymore. "Caine seems to be finally hooking up with Deanne," I murmured, watching Tyrona turn to me with a dry, almost cruel chuckle. "Caine is indeed a loyal dog. A fucking loyal dog... to Damon," she said with venom. "But what I can’t figure out is who’s trying to threaten Livana now. Why not go after her precious sister instead?" She shrugged, as if orchestrating someone’s downfall was as mundane as picking a new nail color. "Yeah, you’re right," I said, crossing my arms and staring at the sofa like it might offer answers. "But the bigger question is—has Livana regained her sight? I swore she’d be blind forever. I made sure of it. But someone clearly tampered with the eyedrops." My head tilted. "What?" "The pepper spray laced with toxins you really don’t want to know about... that’s what nearly killed her," Tyrona said with a weary sigh. "It should’ve been fatal. But she’s infuriatingly lucky. It blinded her, yes—but you failed to make it permanent." A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. "If she can see again... what does that mean for us?" "She’s already dangerous when she’s blind," Tyrona grumbled. "If her sight’s back, she’s lethal. I think she’s been planning something bigger all along." I hated how that thought made my pulse quicken. Livana had always been defensive—always striking back only when provoked. So why the silence now? She must be plotting. First, she ruined my plan. Humiliated me in front of every guest and every family member by broadcasting my little... private moment with Richard. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. I did what I had to do. For my mother. For my future in both the Carrington and Braxton empires. "So... Do you still want that company?" Tyrona asked, her voice silken with temptation. "You know what’s buried in that company, don’t you? Secrets. Billions in funds." Of course I know. But then there’s Laura. I can’t beat that bitch. She was bred for the role—groomed to be an heiress, trained to wield a corporate empire like a blade. I was trained in other... arts. Seduction. Manipulation. The glittering weapons of a spoiled woman. Truthfully, I doubt I’d ever run that company. My mother’s obsession with her sister’s accomplishments would never allow it. No, she’s the type to burn the whole thing down just to ruin her sister’s legacy. And maybe... I’d help her light the match. –Deanne– I woke slowly, my skin still tingling, my body loose and warm like silk sheets after a fevered dream. The room smelled faintly of him—clean, masculine, a touch of salt and heat. A basin and towel sat by the bedside, his quiet aftercare from last night’s worship. And then there was his body—Caine’s hard, sculpted chest pressed to my back, his arm draped heavy over my waist like I was his to guard. I could feel him—hot, heavy, hard as forged steel—nestled against my ass. Any other man would’ve made me want to shove him away. But Caine? He could press his whole body into mine and I’d only want more. Last night he’d devoured me—mouth, fingers, every calculated stroke designed to make me lose my composure. And he had. Completely. But I could tell... he hadn’t taken his own release. That thick, aching heat behind me was all the proof I needed. I rolled over and slid my hand down between us. My fingers wrapped around him and—God—he was perfect. Not just big. Beautiful. Long, veined, darker than his skin, with a weight that made my palm crave more of him. I’d never thought much of real men’s cocks—too crude, too disappointing. But his... his was obscene in its perfection. The kind of thing you’d expect in the most expensive, custom-molded toy. "Hey... what the hell?" His voice was low, startled. "You were hard, so I thought—" "No." His mouth curved into a faint smirk. "My little man here is dangerous. And sensitive." I narrowed my eyes. Dangerous? Sensitive? He was acting like I was crossing a line—as though I was violating him. Please. I was doing him a favor. He was just playing this infuriating game. "Tsk." I slid my fingers off him slowly, watching the way his breath caught. "Let’s use that condom." A grin tugged at his lips. "Really?" "Yeah." I peeled my shirt up and over my head, tossing it aside. His gaze raked over me—hungry, reverent—but he didn’t touch. So I took his hands, placed them over my breasts, and watched his expression shift as his thumbs brushed my skin. "I want to taste," he murmured, voice thick. "Yes," I breathed, my own fingers teasing my nipples until they hardened. "Go on." He bent his head, and his mouth closed over one peak, sucking slowly, drawing heat straight down my spine. His tongue teased, then grazed with teeth, and I gasped. He moved to the other, pulling a moan from deep in my chest. "Caine..." I whimpered. "I’ve never felt like this before. You’ve ruined me." "Baby, I didn’t ruin you," he said, thumb tracing my jaw. "I just woke up your goddess. My sex goddess. My Aphrodite." The way he said it... it felt like an oath. He eased me back, parting my thighs, and then his mouth was on me again—lower this time. Hot, wet, relentless. His tongue traced me, sucked me, worshipped me. My hips bucked helplessly, my hands fisting in his hair as I gave in to the pulse between my legs. When I was shaking and breathless, he reached for the condom. "Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice barely holding together. "Deanne... you’re a virgin—" "Just fuck me," I cut in, curling my legs around him, dragging him down. "I’d never give it to anyone else. And I’d rather you take it than those disgusting men who stare at me like meat." I met his gaze. "You never looked at me like that. You look at me like you’d die to have me... and I want you to." Something dark lit in his eyes. He slid the condom on, the thin latex doing nothing to dull the heat between us. Slowly—so maddeningly slowly—he pushed inside. My lips parted, a gasp spilling out as he filled me inch by inch, stretching me until I thought I’d break. "Caine..." I panted. "Deeper. Harder. Now." "Deanne..." he started, but I hooked my heels against his hips and thrust myself up onto him, burying him inside me fully. My body clenched around him, adjusting, claiming him. "Move," I whispered, the word shaking. "As my Aphrodite commands." He obeyed. Rolling his hips in a rhythm that made my head tip back and my mouth fall open, he kissed me, sucked my nipples, whispered my name against my lips. Every thrust was deep, controlled, perfect—making me wetter, tighter, needier. And with every movement, I felt him not just in my body, but under my skin. Every thrust was a dream—no, a delirium. I came within just a few of them, my body clenching helplessly around him. His cock found the right spot every time, hitting it with precision that made my vision blur. The heat built fast, overwhelming, and then I was gushing—squirting hard, screaming his name into the air, breath breaking between each cry. But Caine wasn’t done. Not even close. The hunger in his eyes told me he had more in mind than missionary sweetness. He pulled out and guided me into a new pose—down on my knees, curling forward like a stretching cat. My ass high, my back arched, the air cooling my flushed skin. He knelt behind me, large hands sliding down my thighs, spreading me open like he owned every inch. And then—God—the first push back inside made me tremble. His rhythm was different now, harder, deeper, the kind that made the bed creak and my moans grow shameless. His fingers found my clit, circling, pressing, teasing in perfect sync with every thrust. I couldn’t stop coming—wave after wave crashing through me. I didn’t care how loud we were, didn’t care if the whole damn building heard. All I knew was that Caine was giving me the kind of pleasure I’d thought I would despise... yet here I was, addicted, undone, and craving more with every second.