Indecent Games Duet - Boxed Set

by Clarissa Wild

  She doesn’t push me away, doesn’t fight me, and her lips even open up to mine. I run the tip of my tongue along the top of her lip and coax her to open her mouth, wanting to taste every single inch of her. My cock is already hardening in my pants just from the thought of claiming her body. God, if she lets me, I’ll fuck her through the night.

  But then she pulls back, sucking in breath after heady breath, her lips pink and full … so fucking tantalizing.

  “You should leave,” she murmurs softly, her eyes barely opening to look at me.

  “But do you really want me to?” I reply with a low voice, trying to make her see differently.

  She bites her lip and hesitates, which gives me the opportunity to lean in and press my lips to hers again. I can’t help myself. She’s too intoxicating. Too innocent not to taint. I want her so badly, and I don’t know why I care so much, but it doesn’t fucking matter. I know that I need her and that I won’t stop until she’s mine.

  Except she draws back again, and this time, her eyes are still closed as she whispers, “It’s not right. Not now … I’m …”

  “You’re what?” I murmur against her lips, my tongue quickly darting out to give her a taste of what’s to come.

  But then those words come out of her mouth … and they make me want to strangle someone.

  “I’m still … married.”

  9.

  Accompanying Song: “What Have We Done To Each Other” by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross

  Hyun

  He wears a frown on his face, and his shoulders slump as his hands come off the door. He looks down at his feet then jerks his head sideways, signaling for me to move.

  I slide aside far enough for him to turn away from me and twist the doorknob.

  Without saying another word, he opens the door, walks out, and closes it behind him.

  I’ve been holding my breath since I said the word.

  Married.

  A chill runs up and down my spine.

  I can’t believe I told him.

  That I said it out loud.

  That he was here … and that he kissed me.

  It feels unreal.

  I rush to the windows to see if he’s there, but he’s already gone. How he does it, I don’t know, but he’s always quick as a bird flying off into the sky, disappearing from view. Just like that.

  And the only thing I wonder … is whether he’ll come back again.

  I close my eyes and shake my head, telling myself to stop. I can’t let myself go like that. Not when … Greg could be watching.

  What if he saw him come inside?

  What if he watched us kiss?

  What if?

  So many questions and I don’t even know if any of it is even real. I mean the notes told me he was, but they could be lies. Then again … why would he lie? What does he gain from all this?

  I clutch the curtains in front of the window and sigh. I can still feel the heat of his lips, scorching on mine. Just thinking about it makes my pussy thump. God, he was amazing. I can’t believe I let myself go like that. It’s as if he did something to me—something intangible but definitely there. I can’t explain it. I feel like a totally different woman when I’m around him, and I don’t know yet if that’s a good or a bad thing.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to leave. It feels bad … being alone in this house. Especially when I chased away the only person interested in me.

  But I also know it was the right thing to do.

  I can’t have him in my house. Can’t let him kiss me. Even though my body wants him so badly.

  It’s dangerous if we’re together. If my husband sees him—if we’re seen together—he’ll kill us both.

  ***

  Accompanying Song: “Obsession” by Golden State (Animotion Cover)

  Drake

  I sit back and drink my coffee from the plastic cup while watching her from afar. She’s sitting only a few seats in front of me, reading a newspaper while enjoying a Frappuccino. Her hair softly waves in the wind, and sometimes, I catch the scent of her perfume.

  I turn back to my laptop and write some more.

  I can’t help myself. When I see her … smell her … even taste her … it makes me want to turn it into words. I’m not great at talking, but I have a way with words on paper that’ll wrap any girl around my finger.

  But mostly … her.

  I’m only interested in her. Not one girl has captured my attention the way she did. Why? Because she needs someone to protect her. To keep her safe and out of harm’s way.

  Someone who will defend her against enemies … people like her husband.

  When she told me she was still married, I was shocked. I thought they’d separated and that she’d filed for divorce, but I never expected her to still be legally bound to him.

  Maybe he didn’t want to sign the divorce papers. I’d imagine him to be that kind of a dickhead.

  My hand instinctively folds into a fist, wishing it could pummel his head into the street and smash it to bits.

  However, I need to keep my cool if I hope to stay out of jail.

  I need to play this game the way it’s meant to be played. Slow and careful.

  And right now, my focus lies on her.

  She probably thinks I left her home because she told me the truth about her and her husband. That I don’t want anything to do with a woman who’s still taken.

  She’s wrong.

  I still want her. I still need her, and I will have her … And I don’t care what I have to do to make it happen.

  Having him in the picture only fires me up that much more.

  I lick my lips and focus on the story at hand.

  I imagine her getting up and leaving her coffee on the table. She saunters away from the coffee shop, clutching her bag close to her body. I close my laptop and tuck it into my bag, silently following her. She seems unaware that I’m tailing her. But then, as she checks her purse, she briefly glances over her shoulder and sees me. We stare at each other, and time seems to stand still.

  Then she goes into an alley, and I go after her. It’s a dead end.

  I see her looking, trying to find a way out, but there’s nowhere to go. She’s surrounded by walls … and me.

  I sneak up behind her.

  I know it’s vicious.

  I know it’s wrong.

  But she did something to me the moment I saw her in the library. With those eyes, she lured me in. They told me she was ready to be taken away. That she was done with the world and needed closure.

  I could provide that for her.

  She only needs to ask.

  Perfect.

  Smiling to myself, I close my laptop and stare at her as she takes gentle sips from her coffee. Then I tuck my laptop away, get up, and go home … so I can print this out and mesmerize her once more.

  10.

  Accompanying Song: “Ritual Spirit” by Massive Attack & Azekel

  Hyun

  When I left the coffee shop, I could’ve sworn he was there.

  I saw him.

  At least, I think I did.

  I don’t know why, but it felt like I was being watched. Except when I turned around, no one was there. Still, it didn’t sit right, so I quickly finished my coffee and left.

  As I get home, I quickly close the door behind me and take a few breaths before settling in. I feel so on edge these days. Nothing feels safe. Nothing relaxes me. At least … not while Greg still lives.

  I swallow and turn on the light, which flickers … and then goes out.

  Frowning, I turn the switch on and off, but the light remains out. I guess the bulb’s broken. So I go to the kitchen and grab a new one then fetch my small ladder so I can change it. I set it down and climb up with the new bulb in my hand. As I twist the bulb off and fit the new one, I notice a small wire hanging loosely from the fixture.

  Narrowing my eyes, I pick it up and take it out
, stepping down the ladder again. And the moment I turn on the light, I see what it truly is.

  A tiny microphone. It looks like a bug.

  Who would plant a bug in my house?

  My heart is racing as I inspect the microphone, but I know it won’t tell me anything about where it came from or who planted it there. However, the only people I can come up with who’d be interested in what I have to say would be Greg … or Max.

  But Greg already knows I won’t spill the beans … because I can’t go to the cops; they’re in his pocket. The only one I could talk to would be the newspapers … and it sounds like something Max would be afraid of me doing.

  Telling the whole world about their twisted little bride games.

  I swallow and think to myself. Should I call him? Tell him I found it? No, that would only give him an advantage. I should go to him and let him know I found out about his scheme, and that I’m not playing games anymore. That I’m done with being a part of whatever it is they’re doing, and that I want them to stop.

  For some crazy reason, this sounds like the best idea to me.

  I know it’s stupid, going back to that place and falling into the same trap all over again.

  However, I know they’re really not that interested in me. Otherwise, they would’ve forced me to stay, and they didn’t. They let me go, which means I wasn’t what Max and his brothers were looking for.

  Good thing because I don’t think I could’ve survived if I was.

  I crush the microphone in my hand and tuck it into my pocket. Then I go out and get into my car, driving straight to the place I last knew where Max worked. I hope he’s still there.

  I park my car not far away from the building, and I go inside.

  Trying not to draw any attention to myself, I walk steadfast for the elevator, just as I did the first time I came here when Max invited me. This time, however, I come unannounced.

  The man standing near the elevator breaks my stride by saying, “Excuse me, ma’am, can I help you?”

  “I have an appointment with Mr. Marino,” I lie through gritted teeth.

  The man looks me up and down, narrowing his eyes, but then he proceeds toward the elevator and presses the button. “Follow me.”

  I’m not sure if he believes me, but I don’t care, as long as he takes me where I’m supposed to be. So I step inside and wait until the doors close.

  The wait feels like it takes forever, and sweat drops trickle down my spine just from being confined in a tiny room with a man I don’t know. When the doors finally open again, I breathe out loud and step outside, briefly glancing over my shoulder to find the man still glaring at me.

  I ignore it and press on. Maybe he’ll call Max and tell him someone’s coming to meet him, but I’ll take that risk. Maybe he already knows just from hearing me pick up the microphone. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve come too far to turn around now.

  So I walk up to his door, knock a couple of times, and turn the handle before he even says I can come in.

  He’s sitting behind his desk, typing away on a laptop, his eyes only barely reaching above the screen.

  “Hyun?” he murmurs, squinting at me.

  “Hello, Max,” I say, clearing my throat.

  He closes his laptop and scoots back his chair, cocking his head. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect this. I’m curious why you thought this was a great idea.” He smiles. “You do realize how dangerous this is, don’t you?”

  I nod. “I realize that, but I have to ask you something and I couldn’t do it on the phone.”

  “Is it about the games?” He raises his brows. “Because that’s long over. We don’t want you.”

  “No, it’s not about the games.”

  “I must say … your English has gotten much better since the last time we spoke,” he muses.

  “Thanks,” I say bluntly, not wanting to go into it.

  He doesn’t need to know I’ve been taking lessons.

  He taps the top of his fingers against each other. “I hope you do realize you’re lucky …”

  “Lucky?” I frown.

  “To be alive.”

  The air between us thickens.

  “And you will be as long as you honor our agreement.”

  “I haven’t told anyone about the games.”

  He raises his brow. “Not a soul?”

  “No one,” I say in one breath.

  After a few seconds, he says, “Good. Now tell me why you’re here.”

  I fish the broken microphone from my pocket and hold it up for him to see. “Is this yours?”

  He frowns, looking at it from afar, and then says, “Where did you get that?”

  “So it’s yours?” Rage boils up to the surface.

  “I didn’t say that.” His lip quirks up into a smile. “However, if I’m completely honest, it does look like one of ours”—he looks me dead in the eye—“but we aren’t tapping you.”

  “Don’t lie to me, please,” I hiss. “I deserve more than that.”

  “You left our home. You canceled the contract and gave up your spot. As far as I know, you don’t deserve anything from us.”

  “After what you put us through? I dare to disagree.”

  He sighs. “Look, Hyun. I don’t understand why you’re here. I already told you we’re not tapping you.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Who else would do this? You are the only one who has a reason to do so. You want me to keep quiet about your little game. You’re keeping tabs on me.”

  “Oh, please,” he scoffs. “Like we’d need to wiretap you for that.” He laughs. “Hyun, I already know you’ll never go to the police. Or the media.” His face darkens, and the look in his eyes is dead serious like he could kill at any moment. “Because if you did, you know what will happen.”

  I swallow away the lump in my throat, still trying to remain headstrong, despite the obvious threat to my safety.

  “I never said I would,” I hiss. “But only if you promise me you won’t ever bug my place, watch me, or even remotely contact me in any way.”

  “I don’t even want to, Hyun. You left us, remember? Besides, I already made my choice long ago.” He sighs and turns around in his chair, looking out the window as if I’m not even here anymore.

  “I don’t care. The point is I’m only here to make sure this bug isn’t yours.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “But you said it does look like one of yours.” I cross my arms. “Can you please explain?”

  “It’s possible someone inside the company placed it there without my knowledge. However, the brand that manufactures them is a big one. Many companies use them. I’d say you’re at a dead end.”

  He turns to face me again, this time casually leaning back in his chair, seemingly bored. “Are we done now?”

  Maybe he’s not lying after all. It sounds more like I’m annoying the crap out of him. Good. It makes up for what he did to me a little bit.

  “Hyun, is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks.

  “Do you know of anyone who could put this in my house? Someone who’d want to keep tabs on me?”

  “No …” he says, chuckling a little. “Maybe one of my employees after they saw you strutting around the bank. Who knows?”

  Like a brick in the face, it suddenly hits me.

  My dad works at one of the biggest banking companies. And he said Greg was his boss.

  One of the biggest … is this one. The one I’m standing in right now.

  I never thought to ask Greg because I didn’t want to know. I hate him and my parents.

  But now, it all makes sense.

  My lip twitches and I search in my purse for my wallet, where I find a small, crumpled picture of my husband tucked away. I take it out and place it on the table in front of him. “Do you know this guy?”

  He glances at the picture, only giving it minimal attention. “He looks familiar, but I don’t know from where.”

  “He works here,” I say.
/>   “Oh, right!” He snaps his fingers. “I remember now.” He taps the picture. “This guy was a friend of my father’s. I saw him maybe once or twice. I don’t interact with him directly; my VPs do that for me. He’s a manager in the finance department.”

  I sigh and close my eyes. “Thank you.”

  I didn’t even realize a thank you had slipped from my mouth. How stupid. I have nothing to thank him for. He’s caused all my problems. Because I bet that it’s only because of me coming to this bank in the first place, to meet Max, that Greg even remotely became interested in me.

  It explains everything.

  That he was so slimy when I first bumped into him.

  When he came to my parents’ house as if he was a regular there.

  He already had his sights set on me from the get-go.

  “How do you know him?” Max suddenly asks.

  “I’m married to him,” I mutter under my breath, snatching the picture away again before Max can grab it. I don’t want anyone else to see this. No one can know I was here. If Greg finds out, then … I don’t want to think about what happens then.

  I crumple the picture in my fist, which is when I notice Max has been looking at me in a peculiar way. Almost like he actually feels sorry for me.

  “You know … you’re free to do whatever you want.” He picks up a pen and starts playing with it.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well … since he’s an employee here and all …”

  I frown and cock my head, waiting until he tells me more.

  “What I’m saying is, I won’t hold you back if you want to do something about this … thing.”

  Thing. Does he mean my marriage? The bug? Or Greg?

  Maybe he means all of them.

  But why do I not even remotely feel ashamed for wanting exactly what he proposes?