Lying Hearts (Hearts Series Book 1)

by Faleena Hopkins

  He looks at me, gives my outfit a once over. “No.”

  “Would you say yes if my boobs were showing?”

  “Probably.” He goes back to staring at his phone.

  Reassuming the position, I mutter, super quietly, “Fucker.” My new little friend stifles a laugh. “What’s your name, High School?”

  “Jenny,” she leans against the wall with her back to it. “You can have my spot if you want.”

  My eyes go wide. I almost smile. But I’m hurting too badly to actually accomplish such ridiculousness. Instead, I just reach up and pat her on the head. “Thanks kid.”

  “Kid? Please. You’re not that much older than me. What are you, twenty?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “And you’re still wearing Goth?” She shuts her mouth fast, sorry she said that out loud.

  I glare at her. “I don’t like you anymore, just so we’re clear.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m still taking your place, though.”

  She moves so I can walk forward, changing spots with her. Eyeing her suspiciously, I take her place and close my eyes again, saying to the guy standing between me and bladder-releasing heaven. “Hey. Please don’t poop in there.”

  Without coming up from thumbing through Facebook, he says, “You can rest easy.”

  Jenny holds up her cup of punch. “You want some?”

  I stare into the ice-cubes. I’ve had more than enough. I’m not a heavy drinker and Corinne really did a number on me with those gallon-sized shots. “There’s not much left. What is it?”

  “Punch.”

  I stare at her. “No shit, Sherlock. Is it spiked?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

  “Gimmie it.” I finish it off. Moderation shmoderation.

  “I’ll go get some more. Hold my space?”

  “Sure. I’ll defend it to the end.” My arm goes up like there’s a sword in it.

  Jenny leaves and I look around for Corinne. Can’t see her, but it’s jammed up, people everywhere, and I don’t have a good visual vantage point from here anyway. I close my eyes again and lay my head on the wall. “Hurry up!” I yell to the line.

  I’ll find Corinne later. I’m not worried. She’s been my friend ever since I moved here from Illinois. We ditched our lame-ass dorm assignments to move in together. That was almost immediately after we met. With some people, it’s just easy. You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t have to tiptoe on eggshells. It just… works.

  It’s nice to be able to rely on someone.

  The line moves. I’m next. There is a God.

  Chapter Nine

  Brendan

  AND YET THOSE FIVE YEARS WILL CROP UP…AS MEMORIES ALWAYS DO.

  There is a God.

  I’ve got Blondie pinned to the wall and my tongue is traveling down her neck as she presses her breasts into me with her hands on my ass. “Not here,” she whispers. “Stop.”

  I look at her, panting and hungry for her. “Where then?”

  “My bedroom.” The way she whispers, I can tell she’s afraid we’ll wake up whoever’s sleeping. She walks off.

  “You have a roommate?” I ask, following her at a slower pace.

  She throws a look over her shoulder and nods, holding her finger to her lips. “Doesn’t everyone our age?”

  I smile. “Fair enough, Blondie.”

  “Corinne,” she corrects, but her smile is playful and she wags her ass as she walks, obviously to tease me.

  “Whatever you say, Corinne.”

  I close the bedroom door behind me and turn on the light. “I want to see you.” I pull off my t-shirt and button-up, show her my abs. “We good with the lights on?”

  Her eyes rake over my stomach and chest slowly, hardening my erection more, an appreciative look in her eyes. “Lights on. You got it.”

  I point up to my face. “Face is up here.”

  She giggles. “Oops. Caught me.” She turns and lifts her dress up so I can see her thong going up her tight little ass. “Or… let’s see if you can catch me.”

  “Oh, I’ll catch you alright.” I lunge for her and she squeals. We race around a bit and I tackle her, wrestling her to the bed while she laughs. She pretends to bite my arm and I maneuver her around, grinning at her. “Now now. Play nice, kitty.”

  “I like your muscles Brendan. Show them all to me.”

  A fresh surge of blood rushes down as I get her meaning. But I want to hear her say it. “By all my muscles, do you mean all, Blondie?”

  “Corinne,” she corrects, again. “And yes, if you want me to be more clear, I mean the muscle that’s straining against the crotch of your jeans.” She points to my bulge and I can’t help but look. She’s right. I’m bursting out of these.

  I pull her against my body and we grind on each other, mashing around. I suck and nibble on her neck, massaging and teasing her skin with my teeth. I find my way under her dress to slide my thumb beneath her tiny panties. Brush my fingers across her skin, I groan as I feel her wetness.

  Kissing her hard on the lips, I toy with her, pushing in a finger, then two, then sliding them around the outside of her and stroking her clit before I push them slowly back in again. Really slowly, until it’s torture. She moans and pushes her tongue into my mouth, arching her hips and rubbing herself against my hand without shame, aching to increase my speed. She shoves her hand down inside the front of my pants and grabs me.

  “Not playing coy, I see,” I laugh.

  “Coy is so boring.” She bats her eyelashes like a girl right out of Scarlet O’Hara’s playbook. It’s a joke and it’s cute, so I grin at her and growl. She purrs, “Mmm… someone’s not tiny.”

  “Yeah? Well, I did eat my Wheaties.”

  Blondie’s eyes go big. “You did not just say that!”

  I nod, but I’m barely hearing us now. With the skill of someone who gets paid for it, she’s stroking my shaft from base to tip, up and down, watching my reaction. The girl’s got skills and I have to work to stop the burning heat of excitement from getting out of control. I’m throbbing and I can’t think. I push my fingers into her, deeper, give them a slow wiggle, flicking her clit rhythmically with my thumb at the same time. “How do you like what I’m saying now?”

  She moans, “Best. Speech. Ever.” Her head whips back as she moans louder, writhing beneath me, losing her grip on my cock. I pull off her dress, unsnap her bra, and latch my lips around a perfect, pink little nipple shaped like a hard Number two pencil eraser. Blondie yells out and her pussy starts quivering around my fingers. No fucking way. Sara took forever – months to achieve the first time – and now this chick is going over the cliff from a hand job? I’ve heard of women like this, and I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t feel the walls of her pulsating around my fingers with surging heat.

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, so excited as she hurls into regions I don’t even think I can take credit for. The way she’s moving around, the way she’s screaming – it’s a little intimidating, to be honest.

  It’s like I’m not even here.

  Then she locks eyes with me like someone possessed. “Come on! I want you inside me! All of you! Now! Do it!!” She yells and pulls at my jeans, “Do it!”

  “Okay! Okay!” I pull down my pants and tug them off, shoes falling over themselves to the floor.

  “Do it!!! Oh God – what are you waiting for!!???” She closes her eyes and throws her arms above her head.

  Needing a condom, I jump off the bed, grab my pants, search my wallet, find one, rip off the plastic with my teeth, and slam it onto my wilting cock before it has time to embarrass the shit out of me. I pump myself a few times with my hand and mount the she-wolf-in-heat.

  She moans as I push inside her more quickly than I have EVER done before. “Yes!! Oh God yes! Faster!” Normally I ease into things, treat a girl with finesse, but I’m terrified I’m going to lose my hard-on. I start pumping and close my eyes to picture someone else who isn’t so sca
ry. Goth-girl’s eyes pop into my head and I shove the image away in confusion.

  With Blondie moaning beneath me, I search for an image of Rebecca in Mendocino last weekend. Her lips on my cock. Her fingers wrapped around me. Boom. I’m up and running again. Blondie yells at me between porn-like screaming, “Faster!! Faster!!!”

  “Okay! You’re the boss!” I grab her hips, lift her off the bed, with me on my knees and her legs splayed out from Canada to Mexico. She goes over the edge again, orgasming, slippery juices running down my leg. Did she just pee on me? Where the hell did that come from? I know for a fact that condom is still on. I can feel it.

  I realize suddenly that she’s my first squirter! Until now, I’d thought squirting was a myth like the Tooth Fairy. Santa Clause. True Love.

  I am very into this whole squirting thing. My body just says yes to this. My cock hardens and throbs and I groan and push into her, hammering her as she slams both hands to her head and her eyes roll back. It’s not as gross as it sounds. I’m feeling like I’m a god or something. This is amazing. She rises up on her elbows, stares at me. My eyebrows go up and we’re still fucking hard, fast, and furious. “I want to make you cum,” she says really loudly. So much for whoever was sleeping in the other room.

  I can’t help but laugh! But my laugh silences in my throat as she shoots me a look that would scare Darth Vader. “Sorry. Yes. I want you to make me cum. That would be great.”

  Her pleased smile returns – thank God – and she starts moving her body in little jerking motions, like she’s fucking me now, like she’s in control. “You like this? Do you like it?” I look down and have to admit, I do. She tightens around me and literally jerks me off in a way I can’t do on my own. “Tell me you like it or I’ll stop.”

  “I like it!!!” I stare at the visual of me buried in her pussy, me staying still while she moves me in and out of her. My body steams up and my legs tingle. “Oh shit.”

  “Are you going to cum?”

  “Uh…yes?”

  “I can feel you getting harder. Oh, you feel so good!”

  I am in the big leagues and this shit is insane! I stare at her bouncing boobs. Without warning, she drives down on me hard, pushing me deeply into her, wiggles around a bunch. I cry out, stars shooting out of my head it feels so good. Holding on tightly to her hips, I groan and jerk, cumming hard. Falling on top of her in a gasping overwhelmed heap when it’s over, I mumble like an idiot, “Thank you.”

  As if she’s reading a script, she says, without feeling, “That was amazing,”

  “Yeah. It was.”

  I’ve never experienced anything like it. And I’m not quite sure I want to, again. Let me think about it. Ummm… maybe?

  But I don’t know what to do now. I want to go home. It’s clear who’s in charge, and it ain’t me. With my face planted in the covers by her head, my soldier still gasping inside her, I pant and listen to my heart rate slow. I’m waiting to see what she’s going to do or say next.

  “You wanna stay over?” she asks, stroking my head.

  I want to go home. “Yeah. Sure. That’d be great.”

  Still stroking. “Awesome. Go clean up…”

  I mutter, “Yeah. Sure. That’d be great.”

  “Are you a parrot?” she giggles and bends her neck to kiss my shoulder.

  “Yeah. Sure. That’d be great.” That one was for the fun of it.

  She laughs, grabs a pillow and smashes it under her head as I rise up off her. “Will you get me a tissue while you’re at it?” I start to say it again, but, laughing, she stops me, “Don’t! You’ll make me pee myself.”

  Chapter Ten

  Annie

  Lock to my apartment: not opening. Drunk drunk drunk drunk drunk. Also pissed as hell. Which, in England, means drunk, so that’s perfect. (burp.)

  I need new friends. I knew Corinne and I were different, but leaving me at the party? That sucks. I seriously need more friends than just one. But that means talking to people and people are idiots. Jenny was okay but she’s a baby. Why won’t my key work! Oh ha-ha… this is the key to my parent’s house. Oooooh….I’m gonna to throw up. No, wait. It went back down. What was I doing? Oh right. Wait. How’d I get on the floor?

  Pulling myself up to a standing position, I turn and slam the door shut. The sound reverberates. I hold my head from the pain of it. The queasiness in my stomach is demanding the calming of some ginger ale, which I know for a fact we don’t have. I do have bubbly water. That might help. I trudge to the kitchen with a surly look on my face. I’m preparing to battle the refrigerator door, too, but my fears are needless. Thank God they don’t put locks on refrigerators. I stick my head in and can’t for the life of me find my Pellegrino. I search and I search and I …

  “Hey. It’s you.” A deep voice says, to my left.

  I hit my head on one of the racks. “Ouch!”

  “Oooh. That had to hurt. You okay?”

  I carefully pull my head out and stare, losing my jaw to China.

  It’s him.

  Standing in my kitchen.

  Brendan Clark, ninety percent NAKED.

  I’m hallucinating. Someone spiked my booze and I will love that sicko forever and ever.

  “I’m better now,” I mumble, staring at the Brendan Hallucination. The light of the open refrigerator highlights his blue eyes, and they are stunning! I look down to see – also outlined by light – a naked chest that could rival any I’ve ever seen in a magazine. Abs that can’t be real, with a chiseled V leading to a barely hidden extra large package. He’s wearing only gray boxer-briefs and his legs have the perfect amount of hair covering the perfect amount of muscles. I want to bite his thighs.

  “Even your feet are cute!” I blurt, staring at them.

  A small burst of surprised laughter escapes him. “Uh… thank you?” His voice is so deep, the middle of the ocean is jealous. This is the happiest moment of my life.

  I look up and smile. I step toward him, and brush my fingers down the line of his cheekbone. He holds his breath as I touch him. I’ve always wanted to know what his full lips felt like, so I trace his bottom lip with the tip of my index finger, ever so softly. He watches me like he doesn’t know why I’m doing this. But this is my dream, so I get to do what I want.

  I whisper, “Look at your skin. It’s so beautiful.”

  He’s confused, which makes sense. I’m not the type to have dreams where I’m whisked onto the kitchen counter for a good, spontaneous banging. No, I’m the type who dreams realistically, like this, where Brendan Clark is perplexed by the oddity that is Annie O’Brien.

  But suddenly a memory crawls out… of him talking to Corinne at the party. We stare at each other as I wake up and a sinking sensation pits in my stomach. “Oh my God. This isn’t a dream.” I retract my hand quickly, mortified. “Corinne brought you home with her??!”

  “That’s her name!” He snaps his fingers, hits his hand to his perfect head. He’d been wracking his brain trying to remember.

  My heart collapses and I feel vomit threatening. “You forgot her name?”

  Guilt flashes across his face and then something else I don’t understand… pride? Did I just see pride in his eyes?

  “Of course I remembered. I was just telling you—yep, that’s her name!” He crosses his arms, the muscles tightening. I get trapped staring at them.

  I’m stunned. “You forgot her name.” Brendan Clark, the guy who would’ve won the Boyfriend of The Year award - who I’ve always thought was the nicest guy - has just had sex with my friend and does not even remember her name! My heart sinks as I think of Mark, Tommy and Ross, and what asshole players they all are. I always wondered how Brendan could hang out with them. And now I know – like attracts like.

  It was just a matter of time before he was turned.

  “So, you’re just like them.” I turn to the refrigerator door and shut it so the light stops illuminating him so deliciously. I’m only human. I don’t want to fling myself on his chest
and lick Corinne’s perfume off it.

  “Just like who?”

  “Them! Them! The guys you hang out with. Tommy! Mark! Ross!”

  He concentrates on me, considering what I just said. “Did you go to State or something?”

  I stare at him, appalled. He doesn’t remember me? How could he not remember me? And I just revealed I know who he is. I want to crawl under my bed, but since he’s watching, I can’t do that, so I back-peddle my little heart out. “From the party tonight? Hello! I met them. I’m not completely anti-social.”

  “Oh, right.” Then he looks at me, eyes narrowed. “But Ross wasn’t there.”

  My tongue catches in my throat and I gurgle something like, “Corinne… she said his name. Just forget it! That’s not the point! You forgot her name and that – THAT – is the point!”

  Brendan touches the tips of his fingers to his scrambled brain, then splays out his arms like he’s saying I love you this much. “Why am I being attacked here? I didn’t do anything she didn’t want me to do.”

  “Oh God.” I want to tell him a dream died tonight. My dream man with the horse and shining armor. Also dead is the belief that there are good guys out there. And not only that, but my friend who I trusted is the one who helped kill that dream. Corinne slept with Brendan. Her mouth was on those abs. Her fingers traced that V. Her lips touched his lips, whispered sweet nothings into his ear while he gently made love to her…

  I’m going to be sick.

  “If you don’t already get it, I can’t explain it to you.” The room is spinning, but somehow I manage to walk around him and not gnaw on his bicep.

  “Hey,” he calls after me. “Hey, what’s your name?”

  “Leave me alone,” I mutter.

  “Hang on.” Something kind in his voice turns me around. He opens the fridge, reaches in and pulls out my hidden Pellegrino bottle. Striding to me with a frown creased deeply into his forehead, he holds it out for me. “This’ll help the nausea.”