The Lying Game

by Miller, Mickey

  What if he leaves for more time?

  How long has he been gone?

  And what’s he doing out there anyway?

  Making fucking dinner? Some sort of food smell wafts into the room. My stomach rumbles.

  From in the kitchen, I hear Carter clear his throat.

  He even does that with power.

  I blow out a hard breath. What am I even doing with my Friday night?

  I’m tied up, submitting my will to this man who might do God-knows-what to me. I should get up and leave. Go to Lance’s. Watch silly rom coms and eat popcorn.

  I swallow the lump in my throat, recalling the brunch conversation I had with Lance and Joseph. How I’d been holding something back. What that something is exactly, I can’t quite put my finger on.

  I don’t know what Carter’s planning on doing with me tonight. But I’d rather feel a burn than feel nothing at all.

  My hands clam up, and I part my legs a little more, feeling the heat building between my thighs. My skin is flushed, and my ass tingles from the blows I received from Carter’s paddle.

  I wonder how far into this stuff Carter’s gotten. Clearly he had that toy box ready to go.

  My skin feels hot yet chilly all of the sudden. What is Carter capable of?

  Finally, I hear Carter’s footsteps coming down the hallway. The door opens, and I stay silent, kneeling at attention.

  “My my. Looks like someone’s finally been a good girl.”

  “I have?”

  “Yes. Time for your reward. Open your mouth.”

  I part my lips, and listen to Carter step toward me.

  “Very good girl,” he says as I take him into my mouth.

  I brace for his his size, but when I wrap my lips around his tip, I realize instantly he’s not fully hard.

  Instinctively, I try to pull a hand out to grab the base of his cock, forgetting my hands are tied up.

  “Nah-ah, baby girl. You’re going to have to learn how to do this with just your mouth.”

  He pulls back for a moment, and I suck in a breath. Heat pools between my legs as I wonder what he’ll do next.

  I feel a guiding hand on my head as he wraps my hair up into an improvised pony tail, guiding me back onto his tip.

  Tenuously, I lick. Running my lips along the sides of his shaft, I feel him growing, the flesh hardening.

  “Do you like how that feels, Lace? Do you like how hard you make me?”

  “Uh huh,” I mutter, hungry for the rest of him.

  I hear a short breath escape Carter’s mouth, and it spurs me on. I lean my neck forward and take him in my mouth, as deep as I’m able.

  “Fuck,” he utters in a wispy grunt, and I feel his body shift somehow.

  I ask myself what he’s doing, and a second later I have my answer when I feel a slap on my ass. I try to moan, but I’m stifled by my full mouth, and instead let out an awkward grunt-sounding noise, like I’m trying to say something but just bit off more than I could chew.

  Carter’s soothing hand runs along my back and up to my neck.

  “So fucking hot,” he mutters, then pulls my head away from his cock, leaving me gasping for air.

  My eyes drift upward, naturally, and all I see is the black leather of the blindfold. I want to see him so bad. See the want in his eyes. His need.

  Focused on me.

  “Come on,” Carter says in a low voice, guiding me up to my feet.

  "Where are we going?" I breathe. Carter pauses. I feeling his presence behind me, his breath on my neck.

  "I said stop asking fucking stupid questions. Haven't you figured it out yet, Lacy?" he growls, his breath soothing my neck. "I'm in control. I'm taking care of you."

  Picking me up, he places me back on the bed. As he props my back up at a forty-five degree angle with a few pillows, I can’t help but repeat his words in my mind.

  I’m taking care of you.

  As gruff and unfeeling as Carter often seems to be, it feels like an odd choice of words. They help to relax some of the tension I’m feeling from being unable to see anything.

  I listen as Carter gets up from the bed. It sounds like he’s picking something up from his dresser, and a few moments later I feel his weight pressing into the mattress again.

  Then, I feel leather straps being tied around my ankles. I open my mouth to ask Carter another question about what we’re doing, but I close my lips as fast as I opened them, knowing his response. Instead, I say something else.

  “Hey Cartwheel,” I say in a raspy tone. I feel his motion pause. That gets his attention.

  “Laces?”

  His tone is surprisingly caring, throwing me off again. I feel like I’m grasping at straws for words to express what I’m feeling.

  My heart pounds like crazy. “Nothing,” I say. “Never mind.”

  I suddenly get the feeling like I’m putting my life in this man’s hands. Carter, who’s hated me for so long. What if this is one elaborate plan to exact some sort of screwed up revenge on me? What if . . .

  I hear a noise like an umbrella snapping open, and at the same time I feel my legs jut apart.

  “Leg spreader,” Carter chuckles.

  “Why do you need that?!” I retort instinctively.

  “You’ll see.”

  My adrenaline spikes, when I feel a tender kiss from Carter on my inner thigh, sending chills over my skin.

  “Oh, Carter.” I’m about to relax into the pillows behind me when I hear him flip a switch, and a buzzing noise starts, sending my heartbeat racing again.

  Carter shifts on the bed until he’s at my side. He kisses me on the cheek, his stubble brushing against my skin.

  “Is that a—”

  “Vibrator. Time to see what you can handle, Laces.”

  “See what I can—oh, dear God!”

  Heat rushes between my legs as he presses the vibrator against my clit. I squirm and want to twist my hips, as the waves of pleasure burst through me.

  Carter kisses me on the forehead, then on the lips.

  He feels like two men as he covers my mouth with his, kissing me with force and using his free hand to rub all over my hot skin. He runs it along my jawline, my nipples, my stomach.

  “What does Lacy want?”

  “You,” I say without thinking.

  “Good. Now arch your back and put your ass in the air.” Carter’s tone is unmistakably dominant.

  I do what he says, even though it’s a little bit awkward and difficult with my hands behind my back. Using the pillow behind me for leverage, I arch my back and lift my hips.

  Just then, I feel the absence of Carter’s touch as he lifts his hands and mouth away from me, and the vibrator on my clit is the only point of contact between us.

  My skin flushes and I hold in a breath. My body feels like a firework starting to go off.

  “Tell me when you’re getting close,” Carter says.

  “Okay,” I say, swallowing. Not this game again.

  My face tightens, and the pulse in my clit throbs.

  It’s not fair.

  Under my breath, I mouth his name. I want to reach out and grab him, touch his face.

  I shake nearly uncontrollably, light-headed as my orgasm builds. I want to tell him, screw his game, and screw his control over my pleasure.

  But somehow, if I don’t tell him, he wins. And if I do tell him, he wins, too.

  I clench my hands and release them, feeling utterly powerless and at his mercy.

  The pulse on my clit is too much, too intense. Clenching up, I move to close my legs, but I can’t.

  “Now, now,” he says, stroking a hand through my hair. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

  “So close,” I admit, craving the ability to touch him.

  Pulling the vibrator off of my clit, I feel him switch positions to the base of my legs. The straps on my ankles detach, and he pushes my legs straight up into the air, onto his shoulders.

  The weight of his cock falls on top of my b
elly, and he pauses. I feel him reach behind my back. He pulls the string of the leather attacher, and my arms hang free, blood rushing into them.

  Instinctively, I reach out and run my hands across his chest muscles, greedily feeling what I’d been missing.

  I brace as he pushes his throbbing cock into me with one big, long stroke. He holds inside of me, and the buzzing of the vibrator starts again.

  I tremble as he presses it into my clit, and my eyes roll into the back of my head.

  “Carter, what are you doing to me?” I mutter.

  “I’m ruining you for other men,” he says in a cocky growl.

  “Holy fuck,” I mewl.

  Holding onto my legs, he fucks me and presses the vibrator into me.

  Carter is two men.

  “I need to come. Please, Carter.” My chest flutters and I writhe, hyper sensitive to his touch as he brings a hand to my face and lifts off my blindfold.

  When I open my eyes, he’s squinting at me with a tight expression as I run my gaze over his beautiful face. He thrusts faster, and grips my my jaw tightly, his thumb brushing my throat. I bring my eyes down to his chest and perfect abdomen.

  “Look at me,” he demands, his tone not leaving a single inch for dispute.

  I flit my gaze back to his dark brown eyes, my whole body tingling like I’m a bomb about to go off. “Carter . . . can I . . .”

  “You can come.”

  I shiver, not wanting to give him the answer, even though I know it’s true. “I know,” I say desperately, still keeping my eyes locked on his. “I’m all yours.”

  I run a hand through his thick, brown hair as I orgasm desperately, never having needed the release so badly in my entire life.

  I flood with warmth as the pleasure ratchets through my body, my cunt tightening. Managing to hold onto his gaze somehow through the fog of sensations, I see his face tighten as he growls.

  “Fuck, when you get so tight like that . . .” he trails off.

  He chucks the vibrator and grabs hold of my hips as he pumps into me, his eyes like a predator’s.

  We both pant as our sweaty skin sticks together. My heart is a mix of rage, surrender, and relief as he pulls out of me. Taking my hand in his, he kisses the side of my neck, sending goosebumps over my naked body.

  29

  Carter

  Lacy and I settle into quite the routine over the next few weeks.

  I would have never guessed she’d be able to keep up with me, but I notice the usual suspects have stopped texting me for hookups.

  Lacy handles everything I can throw at her and more.

  One weekday in late July, about a week and a half before her final performance, I get back from an an evening workout with Chandler and she’s sitting on the couch, surfing the web on her iPad.

  She lifts her head up and smiles at me from over the couch. “Hi,” she say sweetly and simply, her smile soft.

  I can’t help but grin back. “Hey.”

  The truth is, she’s softened me—if only a little—these past couple of weeks.

  “I picked up the mail,” she says, looking back at her iPad. “There were a couple of things for you.”

  “I arch my eyebrow. “Fan mail?”

  She rolls her eyes. “No. Looks like the results from that ancestry test you did finally came in.”

  “Oh.” My heart starts to pound, and I glance at the envelope on the counter.

  Putting down her iPad, she rests her arms on the top of the couch, and cocks her head to the side a little.

  “Come look at it over here?” Her tone is tentative. It’s not an order, more of a invitation.

  Still, she of all people knows how badly I’ve struggled with wanting—and then not wanting—to know the details of my past over the years.

  I walk over to the couch and join her, envelope in hand. Kissing her on the lips, I sit down.

  “Oh,” she turns her head a little. “Are we . . . kissing hello now?”

  My stomach twists a little bit. As much as we’ve been hooking up lately, we still haven’t had much discussion about our status beyond the bedroom.

  I shrug. “I just felt like kissing you. So I did. Don’t read into it too much, Laces.”

  She lowers her eyes to the envelope in my hands. “It’s okay. Sorry. We should focus on this now, anyways. Are you nervous?”

  She brings her gaze back up to mine, a cheerful smile masking the topic we are obviously both avoiding talking about: any sort of relationship status update.

  Putting my hand across her thigh, I swallow. She leans her head into my shoulder.

  “You know I don’t get nervous,” I lie, passing off the heat in my head as nothing.

  The smell of her hair makes my heart warm a bit. For once in my life, I’m happy I have something more than just a hookup here to share a moment with.

  “You don’t think it could change things for you?” she offers.

  I close my eyes and suck a breath deep into my lungs.

  “According to what Chandler said, the results of this test totally altered his perspective on life. Then again, he was able to find out who his biological father was based on the results. Since it’s crowd-sourced, the only way you can tell if you have other relatives is if they’ve taken the same test. That way, they have the other genetic code on file. Otherwise, it just lets you know your ancestry. Eastern European, Greek, or whatever.”

  “Your mom is a mutt right?”

  I chuckle at her choice of words as I run my hands over the envelope.

  “Yeah. A mutt. Part Spanish, part Swedish, part German. And part North African—according to her great grandmother who was from the south of Spain.”

  She grins up at me. “I’m getting anxious. Open it!”

  My palms sweat as I stick my finger into the slit and rip it open.

  Lacy rests her hand on my thigh and reads over my shoulder with me.

  I’ve never read so fast in my life, racing through the components of the letter.

  “Looks like she was right about the North African,” Lacy says.

  “Yep,” I swallow, and flip to the next page.

  My jaw drops at the words I read.

  Relatives who have also taken the test and consented to be connected to their relatives on Long Lost Ancestor Tree:

  -4 distant cousins

  -1 sibling

  Freaked out, I stand up, my hand on my forehead.

  “One fucking sibling?!”

  “Holy shit,” she mutters, her eyes wide.

  I hold the paper in my hand, and it shakes.

  I look down at Lacy and she’s got the same expression as me. Her eyebrows are pinched with worry and her face tinged with confusion.

  “How the fuck is this possible?!” I say. Getting up off the couch, I start pacing through the living room. “My mom . . . my Mom kept some things from me, but she sure as hell would have told me about a sibling!”

  I pace back toward Lacy, and she puts her hand on my chest, stopping me.

  My heart drops to my feet as a scary thought crosses my mind. “You don’t know anything about this, do you? That you overheard from your mom?”

  She pinches her expression, narrowing her eyes at me. “You’re not fucking serious, are you?”

  I shrug. “Just had to ask.”

  She shakes her head. “Maybe . . . it’s on your dad’s side?”

  My chest coils up. I’ve come to hate that word, dad, with a passion. Especially when it’s referring to my shitbag of a deadbeat father.

  “Don’t say that word again,” I growl.

  Lacy puts her hands on her hips as I glare at her. “Sorry. Carter. It’s going to be okay.” She rushes toward me and wraps her arms around me as I let my arms fall at my sides.

  I’m not used to being comforted like this. My eyes well up, and I rest my head on top of hers as I wrap my arms tightly around her body, pulling her into me, saying nothing.

  We stay just like that for a few moments, until I pull back,
staring at the paper in my hand. My eyes zoom in on a set of instructions after the word ‘sibling.’

  To find out who your relatives are (if they have consented to be connected) log on to your online account.

  My heart starts to hammer, practically jumping out of my shirt.

  “Lacy, give me your iPad,” I say.

  She grabs it quickly, realizing where I’m going. We both sit back down.

  I notice when she pulls up her browser that she was doing an apartment search on Craigslist in New York.

  Although I have too many things cramping my mind right now, the thought of Lacy being gone makes me grind my teeth. I press the thought out of my mind and focus on the task at hand.

  “Just in case I get the spot with Blue Illusion.” She says the words shyly, like she’s embarrassed about it.

  “Of course,” I say gruffly.

  She pulls up a fresh browser page and hands me her device. Frantically, I type the login information I was given, and then into my gmail so I can verify my account.

  I switch back to my Long Lost Ancestry account and pull up the my family tree page.

  I read through the names like lightning.

  When I reach the area that says ’siblings,’ I feel the lump in my throat turn to a steel brick as I read the name.

  “This . . . has to be an error,” I say, my heart pounding.

  Lacy’s jaw is nearly on the couch. “Oh. My. God.”

  She turns her head, and runs her eyes over my face, and her hands over my jaw. “But you two do share a resemblance.”

  I rub my hand over my face, as I try to process this mind-boggling information.

  If it’s true.

  Why wouldn’t it be true, though?

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and, my hand shaking, I dial.

  “What the fuck do you want, asshole? What, one workout wasn’t enough of me tonight?” comes Chandler’s gravelly voice.

  “I need you to get the fuck over to my apartment. Right now.”

  He recognizes the serious tone, extremely unusual for me. “Holy shit. Everything okay?”

  “No. Everything is not okay,” I swallow.

  “I’ll be there,” Chandler says. I hear him drop a fork onto a plate. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Heat flushes through my body. I’ve drained shots in front of thousands of people as time expired on the basketball court. But I’ve never felt this sort of nervousness cropping up in me.