REBORN My Second Life I Became The Villianess (Nyxara) novel Chapter 32

I broke the silence first, narrowing my eyes slightly as the alcohol hummed through my veins. "Why are you doing this, Dario?"

He went still. The fire crackled between us, casting sharp, dancing shadows across his chiseled face. He stayed silent for a long, agonizing minute, letting the question hang in the heavy night air as he weighed his words.

He opened his mouth, the first syllable forming on his tongue

And then the heavy glass door swung open, slicing through the quiet and Nysa stepped out onto the patio. I just sat there looking at her.

She was the kind of woman men had daydreams about, she was a walking, breathing fantasy designed to break men's resolve. Her long, impossibly slender legs were encased in a sheer, liquid-silk pyjama set that clung to every curve of her impossibly slim frame, shifting like water in the moonlight.

A heavy cascade of her pale, platinum-blond hair tumbled in soft waves down her back, contrasting sharply with the pitch-black, predatory eyes that stared out from her porcelain face.

She stood frozen in the doorway, her dark gaze snapping straight to the two of us sitting by the fire. She was beautiful enough that any man would fall for her, but it was too bad. On the outside she was perfect but the inside was all rotten and anyone that ended up with her would be miserable, she would make their life a living hell.

Nysa’s bare feet clicked softly against the stone patio as she glided closer, her silk pajamas whispering with every step. She stopped a few feet away from the fire pit, her pitch-black eyes darting between Dario and me with a sharp, suspicious glare.

"What is going on?" she demanded, her voice tight. "Why are the two of you out here alone?"

Dario didn't say a word, his expression remained completely unreadable. I just sat back in my chair, holding my beer bottle, and stared straight at her.

When neither of us answered, her voice raised a notch, the fragile, sweet sister act slipping just enough to let the panic bleed through. "I asked, what are you doing out here alone with my fiancé?"

I let out a slow, heavy sigh, shaking my head as I looked up at her. "Are you that paranoid, Nysa? And so deeply insecure that you can't even tolerate your fiancé sitting outside near your own sister?" I asked.

She froze. She didn't know how to fire back, not with Dario sitting right there watching every micro-expression on her face. Desperate to cover her tracks and salvage her innocent image, she quickly tried to brush it off, forcing a tight, awkward laugh. "I..I'm not paranoid. I'm just being cautious, that's all." she replied hurriedly.

Dario finally shifted, his dark eyes sliding off me and locking onto Nysa with a chilling, predatory weight.

"If you answer me now and tell me the truth, I will let it go," he said smoothly, his voice dangerously low.

Nysa swallowed hard, her voice pitching up a fraction as she hurried to reply. "I will always be honest with you, Dario. You know that."

"Are you having an affair with my executive?" he asked flatly.

I watched closely as her face drained entirely of color, her skin going ghostly pale for a split second. But she was a master manipulator, she recovered with terrifying speed, forcing her wide, innocent eyes to lock onto his.

"Dario, no. I would never. Please, you have to believe me."

Dario was standing at the foot of the bed, his dark gaze instantly locking onto me. I was wearing only an oversized t-shirt to sleep, bare underneath, and the sudden drop of the blankets left me completely exposed to his devouring stare.

The second his eyes swept over my bare legs and the hem of the shirt riding up, his breathing hitched. He didn't hesitate. He surged forward, planting his hands on either side of my hips as he leaned completely over me. His mouth crashed down onto mine, a deep, frustrated groan vibrating straight into my mouth.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day,” he growled against my lips. His hands slid up under the shirt, gripping my waist hard as he pulled me closer.

His hands moved lower, his fingers hooked into my underwear. He didn’t mess around. He yanked them down my legs in one rough pull and tossed them aside. The cool air hit the wet heat between my thighs. I was already soaked and he noticed. A low, rough sound left his throat as he stared down at me, completely exposed.

“Fuck,” he muttered, before he dropped lower. He pushed my thighs apart with firm hands, spreading me wide, and then his mouth was on me.

There was no teasing. He licked a long, filthy stripe through my folds, his tongue flat and hot, then sealed his mouth over my clit and sucked hard. A broken sound tore out of me. My hips jerked forward, but his hands pinned me down, holding me open.

He groaned against my pussy, the vibration shooting straight through me. He ate me like he’d been holding back all day, hungry, relentless. His tongue circled my clit, flicked, then pushed lower, fucking into me in short thrusts. Then I felt his fingers two of them sliding into me while his mouth stayed locked on my clit.

“So fucking wet,” he groaned against me, his voice muffled. “Look at you. Dripping for me.”

He curled those fingers, pressing hard against the spot that made my vision blur, and sucked my clit in the same rhythm. I was already close. The pressure built fast. My hands fisted in the sheets, then in his hair, pulling as the first orgasm slammed into me.