A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

”Andras?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he reached out and adjusted the collar where it rested against her shoulder. The touch was careful and unhurried. Her breath caught for a second. She tried to hide it by looking back at the mirror, but the small reaction was already there.

”You don’t have to be so careful around me,” he said quietly.

Her eyes met his in the glass. ”We’re in a shop.”

”The door is closed.”

”That still doesn’t make it appropriate.”

”Does it need to be?”

She turned to face him. The composure she’d kept most of the day had thinned. She was suddenly very aware of how close he stood and that no one else could see them. Part of her still insisted this was moving too quickly. Another part kept noticing that he never pushed past the point where she could refuse.

”This is still sudden,” she said. ”We watched a performance. We had lunch. Now you’re adjusting my clothes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

”Is it unnatural?”

”We’re engaged, but that doesn’t mean…” She searched for the right words. ”There are expectations. Proper timing. People notice things.”

Andras held her gaze. ”Do you want me to stop?”

The question was calm and direct. It left the choice with her.

Saraphina’s lips parted. She didn’t look away, but she also didn’t answer at once. The only sounds were distant footsteps and the soft clink of a hanger somewhere outside. She could feel her own pulse in her throat.

Finally she spoke, quieter than before.

”No.”

Andras studied her for another second, then closed the remaining distance and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. She tensed at first, hands hovering before settling lightly against his chest. Slowly she responded, though the hesitation never fully left. When they pulled apart, her face was warm and her breathing had changed. She was still aware of every reason she should put distance between them. She was also aware that she hadn’t.

He rested one hand against her waist.

”Today is your day,” he said. ”You decide how far it goes.”

She looked at him. The conflict was still there, but the earlier firmness had softened.

”You’re unfair,” she murmured. ”You ask like the answer is simple.”

”I know.”

She let out a slow breath. For a moment she just stood there. Then, still nervous, she leaned in and kissed him again. It lasted longer than the first. When they separated, her hands were still resting against him.

Her gaze dropped without thinking.

The front of his trousers was clearly strained. The outline of his cock pressed against the fabric.

Saraphina’s eyes widened. Heat rushed to her face. She looked away at once, then glanced back despite herself, then turned her head sharply to the side in embarrassment. Her fingers curled against his chest.

Andras followed her gaze.

”I’m hard,” he said simply. ”It’s because of you.”

She still wouldn’t look at him. The honesty of it left her without a ready reply.

Andras was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke again, voice even.

”We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to. But I’m already like this. Can you take care of it?”

Saraphina’s head snapped toward him.

”You—what?”

”You saw it. I’m asking if you’ll help.”

She stared at him, face burning. Several seconds passed. The proper refusal sat on the tip of her tongue, yet the words didn’t come cleanly. He had asked so plainly that it left her without the usual defenses. She could still say no. She knew that.

”…Here?” she managed, voice barely above a whisper.

”The door is locked. No one will come in unless we let them.”

She looked at the door, then at him, then down again. Her fingers curled tighter at her sides. After a longer pause, she gave a very small nod.

Andras unfastened his trousers with steady hands and freed his cock. It sprang out thicker and longer than she had imagined, fully hard, the head already glistening faintly at the tip.

Saraphina stared.

This was the first time she had ever seen one. The size of it made her swallow. For a moment she simply looked, caught between embarrassment and reluctant fascination.

She rose slightly onto her toes, still not meeting his eyes.

”I don’t know how to do this.”

Andras’s voice stayed calm. ”I’ll show you. It’s better this way, actually. As your fiancé, I’d rather be the one who teaches you.”

The quiet remark only made her face hotter.

He guided her down with a light hand on her shoulder. Saraphina sank to her knees on the fitting-room floor, the new dress pooling around her. Up close he looked even larger. She hesitated, then wrapped her fingers around the base. The skin was hot and smooth; the thickness filled her hand more than she expected. She could feel the faint pulse beneath her palm.

”Start with your tongue,” he said. ”Lick from the base to the tip. Then take the head into your mouth.”

She obeyed, awkward and slow. Her tongue dragged carefully along the underside. The taste was clean, faintly salty. When she reached the tip she parted her lips and took it in, careful not to scrape him with her teeth. The heat and weight against her tongue made her breath hitch through her nose. She held still for a second, adjusting to the sensation, before beginning to move.

Andras rested a hand lightly in her silver-blonde hair, not forcing, only steadying.

”Deeper. Use your hand on what you can’t fit. Go slow until you find a rhythm.”

Saraphina followed. She took more of him into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she sucked carefully, her hand stroking the remaining length in time with the movement of her head. Saliva soon made everything wetter and smoother. Soft, wet sounds filled the small room. Her eyes watered slightly whenever she tried to take him deeper, but she didn’t pull away.

Andras watched her with the same calm attention he gave most things. His breathing stayed controlled, though the subtle tension in his abdomen and the occasional flex of his fingers in her hair showed the effect she was having.

”That’s good,” he murmured. ”Keep going.”

She continued, growing a little more confident with each pass. The embarrassment never fully left—her face stayed flushed and she still avoided looking up for long—but she focused on what she was doing. Her tongue pressed against the underside on every upward stroke. Her free hand braced against his thigh for balance. The wet heat of her mouth and the careful, inexperienced suction gradually pulled him closer. She could feel him thickening slightly against her tongue.

Then—

A knock sounded against the fitting-room door.

Both of them froze.