#CATFISHED (The Empire Series Book 1)

by Nicole Hite

  Just as he did when her panties were on, he slowly licked from her crack, up her slit, and circled her clit.

  "Oh, fuck!" Ariel screamed as he nibbled on her bud, immediately sending her into a swift orgasm.

  "Someone is extra sensitive. I like that. I love knowing I do that to you, baby," Owen laid a sweet kiss on her swollen core.

  Without warning, he plunged his tongue deep inside her, lapping up her juices. The strokes made her squirm, gripping the sheets around her.

  "God, you taste so good. So sweet."

  "How sweet?" Ariel moaned in pleasure, as she lifted his chin. "How. Sweet?"

  Climbing up from between her legs, Owen made his way to Ariel's lips. Making contact, Ariel peaceful fell into his lips. She traced his lips with her tongue before darting it into his mouth. Sucking his tongue, she immersed herself in the sweet nectar.

  "Mmm, you’re right."

  "Jesus, Ariel. I can't hold back anymore," Owen pleaded.

  "Then don't."

  Owen began kissing down her neck, nipping at her clavicle. Running his tongue between her breasts, he pulled the cups down, exposing her

  pink and puckered nipples. One at a time, Owen inhaled her mounds. He rolled his soft tongue across her peaks, while unfastening the dainty fabric.

  Owen lifted her delicate body, positioning it at the back at bed. Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, Ariel helped Owen slide it on with ease. Hovering over her body, he lowered himself on top of her.

  Kneeling on one of his elbows, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. To Ariel, this was far more than just a hookup. There was a real connection between the two of them. As Owen leaned down to take Ariel's lips captive, he slid his giant cock inside of her.

  Ariel gasped as she bit Owen's lip faintly. Arching her back, she took him deeper as she claimed his lips again.

  Owen began rolling his hips into her, not allowing her to leave his hypnotizing mouth. His thrusts were synchronized with the rotation of his tongue, as he plunged in and out. He trailed his hand down her body, tickling her tingling skin. Seizing her thigh, he lifted it to gain deeper entrance into her dripping sex.

  Owen’s pace began to pick up as Ariel's pants became heavy and labored against his damp neck. Ariel lapped up the salty sweat

  of Owen's neck, purring into his collar as he pounded into her.

  "Oh shit, Owen. Right there. Yes!"

  Feeding off of Ariel's cries, he pumped harder and wilder. Just when she couldn't take anymore, Owen thrust one last time. Digging her teeth into his neck, she hit her apex. Clinching around Owen's massive erection, she forced him to spiral into his own release.

  Owen collapsed to Ariel's side as he removed and tossed the used condom in the trash.

  "I could get used to that," he said, breathing heavily.

  "I could get addicted to that," Ariel responded.

  Rolling to their sides, both laid gazing at one another.

  "You surprised me," Owen grinned as he pushed away a lock of her hair from concealing her face. Underneath was a blushing brunette, yearning to be held.

  "Likewise," she grinned as she curled into his arms.

  "I'm going to get some water, want anything?

  "Water would be great," she gave him a sweet smile as he got up and walked into the kitchen.

  Lying back in bed, Ariel glowed in pleasure. She pulled the brown satin sheets up and over her body to escape the slight chill in the air. Ariel could hear Owen banging around in the other room, opening and shutting doors. One, which sounded extremely close to the one she was in.

  Owen came back and was palming two bottles of water. In his other hand was her cell phone, and a discouraging look on his face.

  "I um, brought your phone. It was going off, and I thought you might want it."

  Looking down, Ariel's heart dropped a little – Dean.

  * * *

  DEAN: Are you still there? Did I say something wrong?

  * * *

  What was with this guy? Did he not have any other response?

  "Can I ask you something, Ariel?" Owen looked at her with a hurt expression on his face. "What sort of article are you writing?"

  "You know I can't talk about that," she sighed.

  "Does this thing, whatever's becoming between the two of us, mean anything to you?"

  "Of course it does, Owen. Why would you even ask that?" she questioned as to figure out where he was going with this.

  "I saw the messages, Ari. I'm not sure what sort of article you’re writing, but I just want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons."

  Embarrassment raced across her face as she thought back on the messages from earlier in the day.

  "I can explain. It's not at all what you think," she looked ashamed.

  "Help me understand, because right now I don't get it. I see a girl I really like flirting with a guy, for a mysterious article she won't tell me about."

  "This may get me fired, but I don't care. I care too much about you. Have you heard of Catfishing?"

  "Of course."

  "I think this guy could be one of those. My boss wants me to lure him in to expose him. She pretty much said to use any means necessary to get intelligence. I hate it, and I hate that she’s putting me in this position. She wants dirty and gritty, something I'm not sure I can do."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because something in my gut tells me this is different."

  "Have you ever thought of simply asking the guy why he does it? I choose to believe that all men aren't dirt balls," he began to stroke her pink cheeks.

  "I want to believe that so bad. I do."

  "But?"

  "After that little stunt earlier today, I'm not so sure."

  "Why don't you ask to meet and talk to him? You've obviously gained his trust. There must be some reason he takes pleasure in luring these women in."

  "What if he won't meet me? I feel we crossed a line that might actually embarrass him."

  "If he's a decent guy and is truly looking for the real deal, the situation won't be embarrassing to him. Now, adversely, if he doesn't show...then you have your answer as to if he's an asshole or not."

  "Maybe you're right, I suppose."

  "Hell, I would like to know myself. I can even come with you if you want; wingman and all."

  "Thank you for being so amazing," she cocked a sideways grin.

  "Just promise me that you'll come back to me after all is said and done," he looked at her with a hopeful expression on his face.

  "Cross my heart," she motioned with her fingers.

  10

  "Excuse me while I hyperventilate."

  Sitting at her desk the next morning, she chewed on her nails wondering what she would say to convince Dean to meet up. In a way, she wanted him to be a standup guy and show up just to make Viv look like an idiot. On the other hand, she wanted to run this guy into the ground if he was playing her.

  * * *

  HEIDI: Dean, are you there?

  DEAN: Good morning, sunshine. I was beginning to think you were ditching me.

  HEIDI: Never.

  DEAN: How is your morning going? Sell any ads?

  HEIDI: Hardly. It's been a little...slow these days.

  DEAN: I'm sure I could think of something to pass the time, sweetheart.

  HEIDI: I have no doubt about that.

  DEAN: So what are you wearing? I hope it's a silly little dress again.

  HEIDI: Why don't you find out for yourself?

  DEAN: Oh okay, sending me pictures?

  HEIDI: Not quite.

  DEAN: Video message. Nice. I like your thinking, sweetheart.

  HEIDI: Nope. Not exactly.

  DEAN: I'm confused.

  HEIDI: I was hoping we could meet up. In person.

  * * *

  The silence was deafening. What started off as a lovely, flirtatious banter, had now turned into a funeral. After several minutes, Dean came back to her.

  * * *

 
; DEAN: What if you don't like what you see?

  HEIDI: I like your personality, and that's what matters.

  DEAN: I don't know.

  HEIDI: If you have the balls to talk the way you do, you can at least meet me so I can see whom I'm getting off to.

  * * *

  She lied, but he didn't need to know that. There was another drawn out pause as Ariel waited for his response. With fingers crossed, he finally came back to her.

  * * *

  DEAN: Okay.

  HEIDI: You're not going to stand me up, are you?

  DEAN: If you've gotten me to say okay, then I'll be there. Where? When?

  HEIDI: How about tonight, 6 p.m., O'Connor's Irish Pub on 7th and Franklin?

  HEIDI: I'll be wearing a yellow sundress. You won't miss me.

  DEAN: I'll see you then, sweetheart.

  HEIDI: Till then.

  * * *

  Ariel was petrified. She had actually gotten Dean to agree to her crazy plan. Now, what the hell was she going to say to him when they finally met? Sitting in her office, staring into space, Ariel's desk phone rang.

  "Ariel Summers," she said dejected.

  "Why so glum? Bad day?" Owen stated.

  "I can't decide yet," she chuckled "but definitely better since you called."

  "See, I’m worth it," he joked.

  "You are one hundred percent worth it."

  "Any luck with Sir. Catfish Romeo?" He questioned reluctantly.

  "Surprisingly, he agreed. Now, whether he actually shows up or not, is an entirely different story," she sighed into the receiver.

  "Want me to go with you? I don't mind."

  "I'm afraid if he sees you, he won't come speak with me."

  "Where are you meeting? What time?"

  "O'Connor’s at 6."

  "Shit, babe. I love that place."

  "Yeah, well, I know the owner, Mike, so if Catty over there tries anything he’ll get a Louisville Slugger to the skull. Mike doesn't play."

  "Trust me. I know. I've seen him in action."

  "I put my number in your phone last night. Text me when you get there, okay? I wanna make sure you got there safe."

  "Will do, Captain. Anything else?"

  "Just be careful, Ari."

  "I will," Ariel sighed in lust.

  Hanging up the phone, Ariel glowed thinking about Owen and last night. He was impressive. She didn't even want to go tonight, but instead go home and spend time with him. It was sweet he was worried, and perhaps she should have him go, but she couldn't afford blowing this article.

  As five o'clock rolled around, Ariel was pacing back and forth in her office. She was sweating bullets when Sam came knocking.

  "Damn, girl. I haven't seen or heard from you all day. Are you okay? You don't look that great."

  "I'm meeting Dean tonight. Is it hot in here?"

  "What? Did you just say you are meeting up with Dean tonight? And no, it's the least bit hot. Perhaps you should sit down for a sec."

  "Yeah, somehow Owen convinced me to confront the guy, and after a little persuasion, he agreed."

  "Fuck, Ari. I thought, maybe you would just confront him online. This is some next level shit."

  "You don't think I know this?" She began to pace again.

  Gripping Ariel's shoulder, "Listen to me. You are the best journalist I know. If anyone can get this scoop, it's you. Got me?"

  "Yeah," she stated in a muffled groan.

  "Now get going, there's a little traffic and you don't want to be late," Sam swatted her ass. "Go get em' tiger!"

  Ariel arrived at five fifty, taking a seat at the bar. Straightening her yellow dress, she ordered a beer.

  "Hey, Big Mike."

  "Ari, haven't seen you in here for a while. What's new? Workin’ hard or hardly working’"

  "A little of both," she chuckled, as he placed an ice-cold beer in front of her.

  "Where's Sami tonight? You two are usually joined at the hip," Big Mike asked as he leaned on the giant mahogany bar.

  "I'm working tonight," she mumbled as the fidgeted with her bottle's wrapper.

  "What? Writing an article about picking up guys in a bar?" he chuckled.

  "Something like that," she smiled as she glanced at her watch. It was six on the dot. Her heart was racing out of her chest, and her knee was bouncing uncontrollably.

  "Looks like you have an admirer," Big Mike stated as he straightened up from his stance to assist another customer.

  Taking a deep breath, Ariel turned in her bar stool.

  "Hello, gorgeous," a tall, tanned, and perfectly inked gentleman announced.

  "Owen, what the hell are you doing here? You're going to blow my cover! Get out of here," she screeched.

  From behind his back he retrieved a single red rose, “I’m here on a date."

  Ariel looked at him with total confusion.

  "Well that's great, but you need to get out of here. And what the fuck do you mean you’re on a date?" she started to get pissed.

  "Easy. My date happens to be standing in front of me, flashing me an angry smile, which is a huge turn on by the way, and a tiny yellow dress - my favorite."

  "What the...wait...what?"

  "I'm Dean."

  "No you're not. That's impossible."

  "Hardly. Ask my anything about him."

  "Umm, well, you said the girls that comment on your page can be..."

  "Territorial...if you catch my drift," he gave her a sympathetic grin.

  "How do I know you didn't just hack into his account and read the conversations?" she looked at Owen hoping he was joking.

  "You and I both know I would never invade your privacy to that extent. Plus, I would never have allowed you to come here alone to meet some stranger. You mean too much to me," he stated as he went to brush her cheek.

  Pulling away from his touch, "Why would you do this to me? How could you do this to me? You made me look like an idiot."

  "Let's go sit and talk about this. I have so much to say."

  "I'm not sure I want..."

  "Please, hear me out, okay?"

  They made there way to a nearby table in a dark and secluded area. The two made themselves comfortable as Ariel kept her distance from this...stranger.

  "Start explaining, now."

  "My ex fiancé left me for some online douche-bag. He came in like a hawk and just took what he wanted. He didn't give a shit she was in a relationship, or even engaged for that matter. Turns out he had tons of girls on the side. She was just the flavor of the month. She threw us away for what, pixels?"

  "Owen, I'm..."

  "Don't. If she was that easy to lose from some chump behind the screen, she wasn't worth it. Every time I got online it killed me to see her and her happy little pictures. Instead of blocking her, I just deleted the account. It wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth it."

  Ariel looked at Owen in shock. She had gotten the impression that Owen was the lady killer just trying to get in her panties. In reality he was just a lost and broken soul.

  "I looked into this guy and he was doing it to a number of girls; telling them lies, and then crushing them. I just couldn’t let there be another asshole out there to treat these women this way.

  Every woman, regardless of their age, size, religion, or ethnicity, is beautiful, and deserves to be told that on a daily basis."

  "But you did exactly what he did. Lied and manipulated these women."

  "Not necessarily. I lied to you, and that killed me. I've never talked to any of these women the way I talked to you. Our meeting was sheer coincidence, to be honest. I wasn't looking for someone and yet, there you were. Right in front of me the whole time."

  "So what was the point in disguising your identity? You are smoking hot, you didn't need to hide that. To be honest, you're hotter then your stock art. I google imaged searched...you should have covered your tracks a little better."

  "But, why? It wouldn't have mattered if I had put my picture or Harry Styles up, you wer
e attracted to the words; the pictures only elevated that feeling. Every woman should feel wanted and desired, even if it means believing that the man behind the screen is who he says he is. These women need to be reminded that they are worthy of attention, and they can have anything they want. They shouldn't have to feel as if they need to settle for assholes like the one who stole my fiancé. There are genuine men out there that will treat them with the respect they deserve, and not try to sex them up.

  “Some of these women suffer from great depression because they are stuck in broken and abusive relationships. I can't tell you how many times women messaged me confessing their deepest fears. It breaks my heart to hear that Bertha is told she is fat, and too masculine for any man to love her. If that makes me a catfish, to tell these women they are worth more then what society gives them credit for sometimes, then call me a catfish."

  "I don't understand. And how? When I got messages from ‘Dean’ I was with you. Hell, I even responded, and didn't see or hear your respond."

  "I work with computers, and happen to be a damn good hacker. I'm currently beta testing new software for my client - MyFace. It's a computer generated answer/responding service. After a certain amount of time, it auto sends you a message to try and keep you interactive on their website, and with your contacts. The more people that stay active on MyFace, the more money they make off their advertising providers. It’s quit genius, really."

  "That explains the repetitive messages. I just thought you were crazy or obsessive."

  "It was extremely hard to test the software because girls wouldn't allow for a lapse in time.

  You were the first person who it worked for. I guess I should say, thank you for ignoring me when you were…well, with me."