A Distraction of Lies

by Charlotte E Hart

  I want them like I’ve never wanted anything before them.

  Chapter 16

  Gray

  A n arm rests on the table near me.

  It’s elegant, attractive. Long, slender. Sapphires decorate her wrist, large diamonds on her fingers, but she’s wearing blue. I sneer and set my gaze over the floor below instead, watching Hannah. She looks good down there, already in control of what she wants and where she’s heading for the night. I chuckle and drink some more water, interested in her response to the drugs inside her and her choice of partner.

  “Dillon? And you’re going to let her?” I smirk at the sound of his voice behind me and keep watching Hannah.

  “It’s what I brought her here for.”

  He rests on the balcony beside me, his exposed tanned forearm inches from mine, and chortles to himself about something. I glance at the bracelets around his wrist, wondering if any new straps of leather have been added. Three more in the last year. Two red. One black plait.

  “Those must have hurt,” I state.

  “They did, but she’s my bitch and she gets what she wants.”

  I chuckle and tip my face to his, watching as he does the same. His eyes crease around his smile, almost black orbs dancing under this blue light casting around. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You’re the one that stays away, Gray. You’re always welcome,” he replies.

  I nod and look back at the floor again, eyes trained on my entertainment. The other woman’s gone now, and Hannah’s waiting for Dillon to move to her. Some would say her look was coy under her slightly threatening outlook, but to me it’s more intrigued.

  I chuckle again at that, noting the way she seems superior down there, irrespective of her size and innocence amongst the masses. Doesn’t mean she is, though. She’s just questioning all the things she doesn’t understand yet, analysing them. What should she do? Who makes the first move? Dillon will, when he’s finished looking her over and wondering what he’s going to do to her.

  “Who is she to you?”

  “Just a grieving widow.”

  “Looks like it,” he says, sarcasm heavy in his tone as he stands upright. “Why have you brought her here?”

  I stand with him and take a good look at his features. Still handsome as hell. Dark everything, casually arrogant in his home, regardless of the wealth around him. “Sun tan?”

  “Hawaii.”

  “Surfing?”

  “Fucking.”

  A laugh bursts out of me. Still the same Malachi. He smiles and pulls the back of my neck, yanking me into his hold. It’s a few seconds worth of embrace I’m happy to consider as worthwhile for once. “Could you get any fitter?” I mutter, feeling yet more solid muscles under his black shirt. He pulls back and holds my shoulders, patting one of them.

  “It’s all the fucking. You should try it old man.” My eyes roll, arms shrugging themselves out of his hold.

  “It’s barely two years difference, Malachi.”

  He laughs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cards and then shuffling them in his hands. “Are we gambling for her?”

  “I didn’t come for card games.”

  “You never do anymore.”

  I shake my head and take my gaze to her again, my hands firmly lodged in my pockets rather than giving those old memories any consideration. Dillon’s moved in now. Less than a foot between them. No words. Neither of them need any here. She’s focused enough now to be showing him everything she wants from him without words involved. She’ll be able to hear his heartbeat soon enough, feel the weight of him on her even though they’re not touching yet. I can already feel her now the drugs are working through me, already hear her breathing, the sharp intakes making that yearning desire in me more profound.

  “Striking,” Malachi says, looking at her with me.

  I nod. She certainly is. Especially with this air around her and all the other bodies undulating. It’s as if she’s down there alone, though. Nothing around her seeming to alter her positon or knock her confidence in uniqueness. “She seems almost … sinister.” My lips creep into another smile, eyes caressing those hollows in her cheeks again. Sinister. It’s a good description of her near morbid outlook the last few days. Intriguing. “If we’re not gambling for her, I should go and introduce myself.”

  “No, Malachi, you shouldn’t.”

  “But Dillon can? I’m insulted.”

  “Your idea of introduction is not what she’s here for.” They both move down there, her hips swaying to the heartbeat she can feel in him. “And Dillion’s normal. You’re not.”

  “Well, I’m not insulted by that at least. Dillon’s too straight, anyway.”

  I walk sideways, still keeping them in my view. One hand reaches for her, Dillon’s fingers gradually linking with her own. That chain’s still gripped tightly in her hand, though, as if she’s questioning what’s about to happen. She shouldn’t. This is exactly what she needs, and exactly what I want from her.

  I move slowly down the sweeping staircase, keeping my gaze fixed on her and nothing else, and pull in several hurried short breaths to stimulate myself further. The drug floods me, instantly sharpening my instincts and binding me to the one thing I’m centred on for tonight – her.

  By the time I’m down onto the main floor she’s following Dillon towards one of the back rooms. Good. Privacy will work for her first time. He’s not as foolish as I thought. He’ll get more out of her behind closed doors at the moment, feed her with the right words to bring her out of herself.

  I switch directions and head back towards the viewing panels, eyes watching which room he’s aiming at. Nine. I smirk and grab hold of the stair rails, swinging my way around it to get there. Virginal my ass. There wasn’t a damn thing virginal about those words she said earlier, no virginal thoughts about sucking dick either.

  “Desperate,” Malachi’s voice says.

  “Fuck off,” I snap, pulling open the cage doors to get through. “Why are you still here?”

  “I’m watching, too. It’s been a while since we had a new one.”

  I yank on the door to room nine, swinging my gaze back to him before I enter and blocking his path. “Leave.”

  “No. This is sensational. You’re fascinated with her.” My brow lifts, the laugh I’m trying to contain starting to break out. “You cannot deny me this, Gray. It’s been over a year since I’ve had any fun with you. All the rest are boring.”

  “I can. And will.”

  “I’ll get my drug supply elsewhere.”

  “That’s a useless argument. You couldn’t get the amount I provide even if you wanted to.”

  “Tease.”

  “Yes. Now leave. Go find other toys to break,” I snap, pushing him backwards and closing the door. “This one’s mine.”

  The last of it’s muttered beneath my breath, self-admittance not allowing the words to come out loudly. She isn’t mine. Can’t be. But that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking it, wanting it. She’s like a damaged thing to me, something that needs injuring further or putting back together. I don’t know which yet, or why I’m discussing it with myself, but as I shrug out of my jacket and discard it to the side, I contemplate my own thoughts on the matter. Why shouldn’t Malachi be in here? He’s as much right as I have to witness her unravelling. More really. He does own the place. And yet this incessant need I’ve found myself in keeps bringing more discord my way.

  I glare into the darkened, empty room, my eyes fixed on the white sheets covering the bed. The low lights will switch on soon and they’ll walk in, Dillion’s hand still holding hers. I unbuckle my belt and wait, still able to hear her heartbeat alongside my own irrespective of the distance or the blacked out Perspex between us. Stupidity really. I shouldn’t have locked onto her. I should have stayed off them, just been here for her as a guide and found my own time without the binding inside me. Regardless, I’ll get over it after this. I’ll come and the connection will be lost, my focus disc
arding her into the night. There’s other entertainment in here. Rooms of it that I’ll be able to divert myself with. As long as they’re in black, what does it matter which body reveals itself? It doesn’t. This is just a need fulfilled before I go back home and continue with my normality.

  Drugs and deviations.

  A distraction of lies.

  Two more minutes damn well waiting and the lights finally drop. A thick breath pulls into my throat, body leaning forward. She steps in and looks around, her hand reaching for the buttons at the back of her neck. Dillon doesn’t let her get to them. He lifts the dress slowly up her body from behind her, hands travelling the length of her legs and then gripping onto her hips.

  The lace of her black panties makes what was semi hard turn to steel in my pants, especially when he hooks his thumbs into the side of them to push them down to her heels. Fuck. I groan and try focusing on the way she moves, listening for her breathing again through the small holes in the panel, but all I can see or feel is the small scrap of material in his grasp.

  It makes me rub at my dick, palm it through my pants to ease the pressure building, and imagine her under my hands instead. The pads of my fingers tingle, as they try to remember the feeling of lace. Coarse. Abrasive. My nails dig into my palm, scratching the skin, before I reach into my pants and pull on my dick. It bucks in my hold, rearing at the sensations I’m feeling, as I keep watching.

  She doesn’t turn around. She just lets Dillon get on with what he’s doing slowly. The dress gets folded around her waist, and his hands draw circles over her exposed ass. One healthy slap rains down on her skin, his other hand going straight for the prize as she grunts and leans onto the bed for support. Everything in me tenses at the vison of his fingers inside her, some part of me suddenly annoyed rather than invigorated.

  I abandon my dick, tuck it away, and stand, hand ready to knock on the damn Perspex to stop this. I have no right to, though. No right at all. I sit again, shaking my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? I want her. More than I thought I would, and her becoming more vocal, her body shuddering every damn time he pushes those fingers in deeper, isn’t helping me shake off the feeling.

  Her hands grasp the sheets tighter, the gold chain lingering out to the side. I watch it moving as she does, glare at the fact that I can’t control it or her. Faster and faster his hand moves, the other one keeping her hip still under his assault. I can hear the sounds again now. Wet, thick sounds. She moans louder, making me push my dick down through my pants to ease the pressure. Damn thing wants anything but this separation. It wants inside her like those fingers are, her wet cunt wrapped around it.

  I grunt and widen my legs, straightening my back to ease the density building inside me, and glare harder as Dillon unbuttons his pants and begins shoving her around like the toy she’s becoming for him. A low growl reverberates out of me, the room I’m in seeming like a damn cage I can’t get out of all of a sudden. One move from me now, one knock on that window, and I can stop this, but I can’t get the vision of his dick ramming into her out of my mind.

  I lick my lips, teeth biting down on the corner of them, as I watch him line up and grip her hips harshly. An internal war rages like never before, making me question what the fuck I brought her here for. Distraction? This isn’t a distraction I’m used to. I normally relish it, revel in the visual and take the offer to fulfil my own needs, but this is interfering with something deep inside.

  It’s intrusive.

  She is.

  The groan that leaves me, as he runs the tip across her pussy, is enough for her to turn her head. She looks at the black Perspex, heavy lids and a panting mouth staring right at me even though she can’t see me. Everything stops for a second or two, including my mind, until I see her close her eyes and moan again. My spine goes rigid, hand barely needing to move on my pants to bring myself off. I lift my dick out again and watch as the come starts flooding out of me onto my hand. I grunt through it, watching her body rock, shoulders shifting harshly back and forth, and then keep my hand moving slowly. That’s never happened before here. Not once. No woman has made me come without my own assistance before her, regardless of the pills.

  I lean forward, letting the connection build even though I shouldn’t want it. She’s so deep inside me, and my mind can’t help but focus intently on the sounds she makes, the moves she makes. Heartbeat. Need. Desire. If we were together in the same room it would be debilitating, damn near unbearable to tolerate. The thought makes me turn away, looking at the walls rather than acknowledge what I'm letting myself fall into, but the draw, the pull, is too strong to deny.

  She twitches and turns at the same time as I look back, her eyes searching the Perspex again. She knows, too. She can feel it regardless of Dillon inside her or not. It’s never happened for me before her, never tempted me into even thinking this way, and her moving until she’s in front of the screen separating us isn’t helping me reject the idea of more than I can offer.

  I chuckle sullenly, as Dillon follows and gets right back inside her again. He manoeuvres her harshly, knowing he’s lost her, and then covers her hands with his as she puts them on the screen between us to prove a point. Covetous. I’m not surprised. I feel the same about her. And it must be a bitch to lose someone in the middle of fucking them. I back away, though, retreating into the seat to avoid the growing connection. She isn’t mine. Never will be. And yet I can’t stop watching her shoulders shunting back and forth, her nails scratching at the Perspex, or her mouth moving around words I can’t hear. She’s talking to me. I know she is. She’s trying to connect with the one thing she’s fixated on, the one thing her hunger tells her she needs.

  Dillon’s becoming aggressive with her. Angry words being delivered into her ear, sharp hands slapping at her ass and body repeatedly to bring her back to him. Her face turns sideways, cheek hit to get her to focus. It won’t work now, no matter the pain he inflicts or the torment he tries for. She’s numb, barely feeling him on her because of me and the presence I’m withholding.

  I drop my gaze, trying to ignore the words from her mouth and their connotation as much as I can. I never should have looked at her before we came in, never should have made that connection when she didn’t know what I was doing to her. It was stupidity. Nothing but a damn tease I can’t acknowledge or play with.

  It doesn’t matter how much I try to ignore the words, though. Or how much I think about standing to leave rather than letting this feeling consume me. My gaze goes back up to her of its own accord, the connection pulling me there because of the drugs we’ve consumed. I’m just as lost in her lips as she is in the thought of me, as fucking damned.

  The eventual realisation of what she’s mouthing silently makes me stand and reach for my jacket, a long sigh coming from me as I buckle my belt and try not to smile.

  “I need you.”

  I know.

  Chapter 17

  Hannah

  I t’s bright in here, and colours seem to flash behind my eyes every time I close them. A moan rumbles through me, the voice carrying it lost somehow – dazed. Gray’s behind this dark, smoky screen watching me. I know he is. Inches from me. I lean my cheek onto it, letting the coolness focus my view or thoughts. He said he’d watch, that he’d be watching me. I can feel that, regardless of this man inside me and the sounds he’s making.

  My hands grip flat at the screen, fingers wet with sweat against it and nails scratching as my body moves of its own accord. The rhythm’s repetitive, solid and fast behind me. His hips rock against my ass, building the speed faster and faster, and hands are hurting me, bruising and gripping while nasty words ghost in my ears. All I can feel is the vibration of this screen on my cheek, though. I’m too lost in whatever this pill has done to me to see or feel clearly, and I’m emotionless to whatever this has become. I need Gray. I do.

  I don’t know why, but I need him with every fibre of my being.

  My eyes close, the side of my lips focusing on the vibration
rather than the feel or sound of this man behind me. It thunders under my cheek, tremors and quivers reminding me of my tapping. My finger starts finding the rhythm within it, tapping gently at first until both my hands are tapping loudly. Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. A groan falls from me at the sensation, an orgasm beginning to build again from the tempo I’m causing. Fuck me. Yes. Harder. They’re all thoughts, though. No talk. No words in here. I’m silent other than the moans and groans I can’t contain. I don’t even know this man’s name. Haven’t asked. Don’t care.

  I need Gray. No one else.

  I twist my head again, as the momentum builds, trying to see him through the obscure panel in front of me. No view to see. Just black and the reflecting light showing me an image of myself being taken by this man. I watch my shoulders move at the same time as my tapping fingers, my mouth open as I wait for the orgasm to reach its peak. My legs widen, hips tilting my ass upwards for a better angle, and then it begins tunnelling through me slowly.

  Everything in the room evaporates, as I let my own orgasm consume me. He’s coming in me. I can feel it pouring inside, no care for if it’s tainted or not. What does it matter? I’m a mess of grief and anger and despair, no interest in my own survival anymore. I’m just here, floating. I smile at that, amused with my self-indulging nature. Never thought I’d do this sort of thing. Never cared to think of it as an option. But here I am, a whore under a man I don’t know. All because of Gray Rothburg and his ways.

  Or maybe it’s the drugs.

  The man slides his length out of me and pulls my dress down, covering my exposed ass again in a muted show of chivalry. I laugh at that and right my body, feet bringing themselves back together slowly. Chivalry? Gray used that word – chivalrous. I half laugh again and turn around, looking this man over more than I did outside. Attractive. Educated in his tone of voice, regardless of his vicious words. He’s probably got money, all of it showing a man who’s well-mannered and courteous outside these walls, but this place isn’t meant for chivalry, nor is my mind with this pill governing my thoughts. I don’t care for chivalry or valour at this time. I care only for what I’m whimsically involving my mind and body in.