DECEPTION : (A student/teacher romance)
DECEPTION : Prologue

The blonde pressing kisses down my neck makes my skin itch. Of course she knows how old I am—they all do—yet they still fawn over me like they do the rest of the men in my family. The desperate, hungry whores leave me with little to no satisfaction. What I need is something different; I just don’t know how to replace it.

My father winks in my direction, and that pisses me off further. I’m nothing like him, nor do I want to be. He thinks having a woman as his plaything to use as he sees fit and dispose of as if they’re nothing is the only way to have a relationship with the opposite sex. Something inside me craves more. When I have sex, it’s a means to an end. Sure, I enjoy it at the time, but I’m never truly fulfilled. I’m missing the connection, and I’m well aware I won’t ever get it with any of the whores my father parades around.

Getting my cock hard can be a chore, and I grimace every time a woman attempts it. I’ve often wondered if I’m broken, if the incidents I witnessed growing up have caused some inner trauma, or if I’m just bored with the mundane scenes that play out around me. Maybe I’m so used to them and they’re so freely available that they simply don’t hold the appeal they should.

They never really have.

When the blonde places her hand over my zipper, I fight the urge to lash out. My skin feels like it’s crawling with insects at her touch. Instead of throwing her to the floor and drawing my knife to punish her like I want to, I push off the couch, away from her and her grabby hands, and stride toward the balcony overlooking the dance floor of my father’s club Sinners.

The strobe lights flicker around us, and the bass of the music makes the floor vibrate beneath my feet as I take another pull of my beer. I may only be sixteen years old, but I’ve been drinking, fucking, and committing crimes in the name of La Familia since I became a made man at thirteen.

Music plays out like background noise, along with the high-pitched squealing of the topless girls my father throws money at. I shake my head as anger courses through my veins. Surely there’s more to life than this?

I down the rest of my beer, then place the empty bottle on the nearest table and stare down at the sea of people dancing. Each one of them having an amazing time in the throes of their happiness. With every move, they’re letting go of their troubles, allowing the music to provide them with an outlet for their tensions and freeing their minds—a luxury I’ll never be allowed.

My eyes survey the crowd, and as if on instinct, I note our security detail littered among the guests, hidden in plain sight. When I follow the line of guests standing at the bar, my gaze lands on a face that holds my breath hostage and causes my mouth to go dry. As I take her in, my heart stutters. Her thick, wavy red hair brightens her pale skin as the lights flicker over her. The red dress she wears fits her like a glove, emphasizing her curvy physique, causing my cock to appreciate her hour-glass figure and beauty like never before.

My gaze trails from her red high heels, over her exposed legs, and up toward her shapely hips. Something I’ve never encountered with the women my father parades around us, yet I’m grateful. This woman needs shielded from all others; she is mine. I quickly glance over my shoulder, checking to see that nobody else is staring at or lusting after her, then I snap my eyes back down to her, desperate to keep her in sight for as long as possible.

She’s short, even in the heels she wears, and I lick my lips at the fullness of her tits. As my curiosity piques, I replace myself leaning over the balcony to see if I can make out a bra holding them in place or not. Annoyance rumbles through me when I realize I’m too far away, but something tells me those generous tits of hers are real too. They seem to fit her figure perfectly. My mouth waters to taste them, to savor the weight in my palms, to caress them and toy with her nipples tenderly while embracing her fullness and basking in her attributes. A need consumes my bloodstream, so full of determination that nothing will stop me from having her, and I smile at the prospect.

Little Red is mine.

When someone approaches her, my hands grip the balcony railing, and the way she steps back out of his reach has anger surging through my veins at an alarming speed. She doesn’t like the man, and that thought alone puts a mark on his head.

My jaw aches from clenching so hard I’m surprised my molars don’t shatter.

“Roc, Gerrard Davis, the police commissioner’s son, and his wife would like to wish you a happy birthday in person,” Silas, my right-hand man, speaks in my ear. He’s been at my side since I was thirteen years old, and while I’ve always welcomed his presence, right now I want nothing more than to tell him to fuck off.

My eyes never leave the woman, and I hate the fact I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s clear they know one another when his hand replaces her hip and he draws her closer to him. Jealousy unleashes inside me and venom floods my veins.

She attempts to shrug him off, and his grip tightens, causing a red haze to cloud my vision as I contemplate all the damage I will unleash on his body, starting with his hand.

Silas clears his throat. “Roc?” His tone is firmer this time.

“Tell him I’m busy getting my cock sucked,” I state without giving him my attention, and he chuckles before turning and walking away, leaving me to be consumed by my little red.

As the man brushes hair from her face, my knuckles whiten from the grip I have on the railing. Every cell in my body wants to annihilate him, torture him slowly for daring to touch what belongs to me.

Silas works through the crowd, pulling my attention from them. Why is he going over to her? He pulls the guy by the arm, and when Gerrard Davis’s face comes into view, Silas’s words sink in as he bends to deliver my reply in Gerrard’s ear.

Fire burns my blood as my palms become painful against the metal, and the realization of who she is sends a tsunami of fury through me.

My little red is his wife.

Her gaze shoots over Gerrard’s shoulder, and her eyes unwittingly land on me. She can’t see me; we have privacy glass up here for a reason. Yet, as she stares in my direction, I swear she’s piercing my soul, and a strange sense of calmness washes over me. Unlike moments ago, when jealousy and anger flashed through me at an alarming pace.

Gerrard turns from Silas to speak to her, but her gaze never wavers.

That’s right, Little Red, give me your attention.

It’s like the glass doesn’t exist between us, and as my heart hammers with a newfound exhilaration, I know our story is only beginning.

It will cause one hell of a war, but it’ll be worth it.

“Happy birthday, son.” My father’s firm hand clamps over my shoulder as he gives it a sharp squeeze.

“Thank you,” I state, my gaze still on her, and the way her eyes scan the screen as if searching for something sends a rush of excitement through me. She’s seeking me, I can feel it in my soul. She just doesn’t realize it yet. But she will soon enough.

“I have some girls waiting for you.” His tone is full of glee, and if I wasn’t so transfixed, I’d roll my eyes.

When I force myself to turn to face him, I feel the loss of her instantly. “Not tonight. I have plans.”

His lips curl up at the side.

Whatever he thinks he knows, he doesn’t. Nobody does.

Not even me.

All I know is, my obsession with Little Red has been triggered, and nothing will stop me from taking her.

Not my father.

Not the Mafia.

Certainly not her husband.

I’m coming, Little Red, and when I catch you, I’m never letting you go.