Little Lies

by Elena M. Reyes

  “I have.”

  “What?” Her head sticks out of the entrance, nose scrunched up in the cutest way.

  “This.” A few clicks and the opening to a docu-series I’ve watched a few times comes onto the screen.

  “Wait! I’m not ready yet.”

  “You have sixty seconds before I hit start.”

  “You’re in my home. You wait for the hostess.”

  “Fifty,” I chuckle.

  “Not funny.”

  “Forty-three.”

  “You suck,” she huffs, rushing back with a large bowl of popcorn and a Dr. Pepper in her hands. The innuendo sits on the tip of my tongue. I want her to know I’d gladly lick, bite, and suck every inch of her body, but instead hit play. The intro starts, and she raises her brow. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s the story of a man who rises to power by using religion as his shield for the crimes committed,” I say as the beautiful woman next to me scoots a little closer, her arm brushing mine. My hands clench, nails digging into my palms while she tests me. My self-control. The need to possess her every kiss is maddening, but she’s had a rough day and I’d be just as disgusting as those around her who take without care. So instead, I look at her and smile. “He lies and steals and eventually fucks every adult member of his church before slaughtering the poor souls that followed him out onto that island.”

  “I’ve heard of this one, but never watched it. A false prophet?”

  “You can call him that.”

  “How gruesome is it?” Gabriella munches on a few kernels before taking a sip from her drink. Her legs are tucked beneath her, body leaning another inch closer. Innocent tease. “Scale of one to ten?”

  “Solid four. To me it’s more informative than scary.”

  “Boring, then?”

  “More like getting to know the mind of a killer.”

  “Ahh, a good one, then.” Then she turns her attention to the screen while I watch her. Take notice of the way her eyes widen and each shake of her head as the start of his rise to power plays on the screen. There are a few snorts here and there, the are you fucking kidding me look that all women possess and have perfected after decades of testing, and finally she moves and rests her head on my shoulder.

  The bowl is half gone and the soda placed on the table. Volume on low, we sit in silence and when her face nuzzles my arm, I turn a bit and pull her against my chest. She’s half lying on me—so warm and soft—her small body tucking perfectly against me.

  It feels right.

  Everything does.

  And when her breathing evens out and I move us to a more laying down position, I’m rewarded by gorgeous green eyes opening just long enough to lay the smallest kiss on my lips. It’s brief, a tease, but I can’t help the low chuckle that leaves me as a few seconds later, when I seek them out for more, a low snore meets my ears.

  24

  Gabriella

  Warm lips trail down my neck, leaving small stinging bites along my skin. I’m flushed, so sensitive, and I arch into the stranger’s touch. Silently I ask for more, nearly crying when the warmth of his mouth lifts and a tsking sound leaves the back of his throat.

  The sound is admonishing with just the hint of teasing, and I whine pathetically like the needy girl he makes me. I still can’t see his face, his body above mine as I lay face down on an oversized, ornate bed with plush bedding in red this time. A change. A tease. It’s soft beneath me and the more I sink in, give in to its comforting feel, the more he taunts with flicks of his tongue and soft bites.

  We’re in a dark room, unlike the others I’ve visited in my dreams before, yet the dangerous edge lingers. Surrounds me. The sole source of light is coming from a fireplace, the roaring fire contrasting—casting a hedonistic glow that dances across the dark walls in an array of orange and red, the tones alight with teasing.

  It’s warm in here. A comforting difference to other times when fear consumed my every limb. Instead, I’m being held against my will by his lips. By the reverence in which they skim my skin. Taste me.

  “Please?” A plea—a truth that exposes my desperate need, and I cry out when a large hand grips my asscheek, squeezing to the point of pain. The feeling reverberates through my senses like a tsunami, and I beg for more. For anything he can do. “I need you.”

  My hips undulate, seeking that which is being denied, and I sigh when a lone finger parts my labia, stroking through my wetness until slipping into my clenching little hole. “It hurts when you don’t touch me.”

  “I’ll always be here, Gabriella.” Fingertips dance across my neck, a light touch, and my eyes snap open at the sudden change. Theodore is gazing at me from our position on the couch—we’re lying pressed against the other with my core clenching each time he roughly exhales. I can’t stop it. I can’t ignore this need burning me from the inside while his stare is heated—hungry. I’m still feeling the last dredges of my dream flow through, but now they merge with the desire pooling for this man. It’s confusing. Overwhelming. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Heat floods my cheeks, my mouth dry while I can’t help but look from his rich amber orbs to his lips and back again. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t.” His gravelly tone settles across my sensitive skin and instinctively, I arch against his hold, those strong arms tightening. We’re fully lying down now in the darkened room, the TV app’s are you still there question the only lighting source, and yet it’s as if the room was bathed in pure white light. There’s a heavy current traveling between us, maybe a carry-over from my dream as I look at him, my stare unable to hide my want.

  I’m also unable to avoid the raw desire in his.

  Theodore’s eyes are hooded, his pink tongue swiping across his bottom lip while he does the same thing I do. Watch. Wait. However, it’s the flex of his length against my core that breaks me.

  He’s big. Thick. And the feel of him right there makes me whimper, my mouth immediately searching out his.

  “Gabriella.” It’s a heavy grunt, a warning. “Sweetheart, are you sure?”

  “Please.”

  “Please what?” Fingertips dig into my hips, holding me in place while I peck his lips between unnecessary words. “Tell me what you need.”

  “Touch me.”

  “Fuck.” It’s a rough exhale, his own truth and need coming clear across the one-word response. With the hand not on my hip, Theodore lifts my chin a little more. I’m breathing in his every exhale. “Say it again. I need to hear it.”

  “I need you to touch me.” The last word hasn’t passed through my lips when his mouth crashes down on mine. His kiss is almost punishing, and I feel the same. Reckless. Wild. Home. I’m clinging to him, tongue intertwining as my nails rake down his scalp, fisting the soft strands at the nape. “Please, Theo. Give me what I need.”

  “My beautiful girl.” And then I’m under him, my body pinned beneath his muscled form. I’m the softness to his harsher planes, a complete opposite, and yet my curves mold to him. I’m pliant and needy and spread my thighs to accommodate his hips.

  They flex against mine, his cock rubbing along the sensitive flesh trembling for him.

  Lust is a powerful emotion and I’m drowning, overcome with a need so overwhelming that he shivers. His hands tremble as he cups my cheek with one hand and the other tugs my shorts off. They’re tossed somewhere behind me with my tank following a few seconds after, the sound of a picture frame falling only serving to heighten my excitement.

  Theodore looks down my body in adoration. “Motherfucking perfect,” he hisses out, sitting back on his knees so he can palm himself through his jeans. The way he squeezes is rough, almost brutal, while I lay panting in nothing but a nude mesh bra and panty set. Nipples hard. Pussy wet. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long. At my mercy.”

  “How long?”

  “Since the first moment I laid eyes on you.” No elaboration, and I don’t know if he means my picture or the cafe, but at this moment it doesn’t change
the palpable heat between us. “You’re all I think about, Gabriella.” Leaning forward, he holds himself up by one arm, careful not to crush me even though all I want is to feel him. All of him. “You’re all I want in this life.”

  “Isn’t it soon?” The question slips without conscious thought and I bite my lip, hoping I didn’t ruin the moment.

  “Never.” Those amber orbs traverse my body, lingering on my breasts and pebbled little tips before straying to the juncture of my thighs. There, he exhales roughly—nose flaring while taking my hips in his grasp, holding tight. Blunt fingernails dig in, a slight tinge of pain running through me, but I find myself attracted to the feeling.

  To the way it settles in my core, causing me to clench with need.

  And he sees this. All of me.

  Neither of us talks. Words aren’t needed, but I do give him a nod. My permission to take and own. It’s my surrender, and with a growled fuck Theodore tugs at the two small strings holding my panties in place, tearing the flimsy fabric clean off.

  They dig in, marking my skin in the most delicious way, and I can’t help the whimper that escapes nor the rise of my hips in offering. An offering he caresses with the tips of two fingers, spreading my wetness around while lowering his face to my chest.

  He’s not removing my bra, rather flicking his tongue over the sheer material that hides nothing from him, earning a hiss from me. “Something wrong, Miss Moore?”

  “No,” I whimper, voice shaky. “Just feeling very needy.”

  “You have no idea what true need is, sweetheart.” Theodore blows warm air across the sensitive skin and goose bumps rise across my flesh, my breasts heaving. The tip of his tongue traces my right breast, nipping my nipple before giving the same treatment to the left. “How long I’ve denied myself. How long I’ve been patient and waiting.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Not yet,” he hisses out before tearing the near nonexistent material covering my chest, the small triangle dangling from his teeth. Theodore takes the fabric in his hand and puts the piece in a back pocket before biting the underside of both breasts, dragging his tongue across each before following the path down the center to my mound.

  There he pauses with eyes closed and lip caught between his teeth.

  He breathes in deeply and holds it.

  His cheek rubs across the wet, bare skin above my clit and shivers.

  This beautiful, strong, and at times demanding man trembles above me as if holding on to a control that’s slipping. As if he’s teetering on the edge, his face contorted in a reverent pain, and damn me if that doesn’t cause another rush of wetness to coat my lips.

  “Theo, I—”

  “Say it again. Call me that again.”

  “Theo.”

  “Fuck,” he snarls against my flesh, his mouth moving to where he hovers, and those eyes hold my stare. I can’t close my eyes or look away. I can’t move or plead. All I’m able to do is watch as his pink tongue touches my clit, a feather-light caress, and cry out as pleasure seizes my every nerve ending.

  He holds it there. Pressing a little more firmly with each tick of the clock until his lips part and he’s sucking my tender flesh between his teeth. The sharp suction makes my eyes roll back, an action he doesn’t like, and lands a smack to my thigh. It’s loud, the sting landing right where his tongue is worshipping, licking me from my trembling bundle of nerves to my clenching entrance and back again, before sucking my lips and drawing them out.

  Theodore is hungry, a deep rumbling groan escaping as he dips the tip of his tongue inside me. Lapping. Biting. Sucking until my lower body rises off the couch and moves against his mouth.

  “Don’t move.” The hold on my hips tightens, pinning me down, but I only fight harder. Angry at being kept in place when all I want to do is ride his mouth. To do what my body is begging me to do naturally—seek my own release using him—but his denial is a double-edged sword. “You taste like Heaven and sent from Hell. Which one are you, sweet girl? My prize or my incarceration?”

  How words and actions turn me on while simultaneously pissing me off.

  But then he’s circling my clit with a building pressure, light at first and then harshly, dragging the flat of his tongue until my stomach clenches and I fist the cushions. All thoughts leave my mind. Nothing but his scent and touch exist. There’s a heat rising through me. This electric feeling as he releases one hip and brings a single finger to my entrance.

  He circles the opening, toying with me while his mouth never ceases his attack on my clit. Flicking, nipping, sucking it between his lips while moving his head from side to side. And I’m thrashing, my whimpers turning into screams while my thighs squeeze around his head. It’s an action he doesn’t approve of, and when he pulls back and shakes his head at me while four fingers smack my pussy, I nearly pass out.

  Then he does it again.

  A total of four times, and I’m a sweaty panting mess. Wet. So wet it drips from my entrance to rosebud and onto the couch.

  “Theo, I’m so close. Just a little...fuck!”

  “That’s my girl,” he coos as my orgasm slams into me and I scream, my eyes rolling back while I lose control of my body. I’m crying, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes while he continues his assault, never pausing to let me breathe. He eats me through each shiver, through each hard clench of my walls, and right when the waves begin to ebb and small aftershocks remain, he slips his finger back in and fucks me with hard, punishing strokes while pinning my body with his own. “Give me one more.”

  “But what about you?” He hasn’t come and is still in his clothes. Doesn’t he want to—

  “My pleasure lies in pleasing you,” he grits out, chest vibrating from the guttural sound. “And right now is all about you, Gabriella. What I need from you.”

  “Oh, God...I...Theo!”

  “Again, Gabriella.” He curls the finger inside me, and I seize mid aftershock, my muscles coiling tight while a strange pressure mounts. It’s building rapidly and my eyes widen because it feels like I need to pee, but when I try to push his hands away, Theo pins both of mine in one of his over my head. “Don’t. Just give me one more.”

  “I-I think I need to—”

  “Let go, beautiful. Show me how that pretty pussy squirts.”

  “I don’t know how!”

  “You have no choice,” he growls out and presses harder, the palm of his hand connecting with my sensitive clit. The sensation is new and scary but damn him, it feels amazing in the most perverse way and when he adds a second finger, I’m gone.

  I’m overwhelmed by this electrifying rush of pleasure that overtakes every cell in my body and then the release. It’s an explosion, a hard shock to my system that ends with me sobbing—shaking—while his pants and shirt are soaked in me.

  My lips are moving, and I know I can hear myself, but rationality has gone and I’m tired. I’m already half asleep when he gathers me in his arms and takes me up the stairs to my room. Theodore lays me on the bed and leans down to kiss my cheek as though he’s leaving, but before he can pull away, I tug him down to me. He lets me, too, without protest, simply acknowledging my need without me having to ask. Theo simply removes his pants and shirt, leaving him in his boxer briefs.

  A sight I’ll admire in the morning, but right now, all I want is to cuddle. To feel secure in his arms and I do just that, with my head on his strong chest and his arm around my back, drawing lazy circles up my spine, I close my eyes and give in to my exhaustion.

  25

  Gabriella

  “Will you be okay?” Theodore asks standing in my doorway the next day around one in the afternoon, having slept in late with me. It’s a cloudy day, the overcast giving me a slight headache, but I keep the smile on my face. I hate that he’s leaving. I hate that he’ll be in Los Angeles for a few days, and more so after what happened last night.

  “I’ll be fine. Promise.” Standing on the tips of my toes, I lay a small kiss on his chin. It’s the only p
lace I can reach, and I also like the way his nose flares at the act. How he takes in a sharp intake of air while that muscled chest expands with a deep inhale. “Now, get out. I have things to do.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.”

  “Like what?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me to keep me in place. Theodore’s fast, yanking me against his chest before my next blink, and I find myself giggling up at his proud expression. “What could possibly have you kicking me out instead of being upset that I’ll be gone?”

  “Paying bills, setting up a meeting with the lawyer you have taking a look at my copyright case, and I need to make a quick trip to the art supply store across town because my usual place is a no go.”

  “That is a lot on your plate.” His lips press in for a quick kiss on my forehead. “Want Tero to come give you a hand? He won’t mind.”

  “No.”

  “What about his wife, Meera?”

  “Don’t know her, and again, no.” At my refusal his lips part, a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, and I shake my head, placing a single finger over his mouth. “Trust me, Theo, I have so much to do that I’ll be extremely busy for days. I’m already behind as is on the paintings.”

  “I love it when you call me Theo.” My cheeks heat up a bit under his intense stare, the darkening of his irises sexy. “Say it again.”

  “No.” At my refusal, his fingertips dig in a bit, and the playful move right over a ticklish area makes me giggle and his smirk widens. Almost predator-like. “Stop.”

  “Say it.”

  “No.”

  “Final chance.” Those same fingertips begin to tap along my skin slowly while growing in intensity before they attack without mercy and I’m left squirming, trying to push away, but his strong hold doesn’t allow an inch of separation between his body and mine. “Say it. Say it, and I’ll stop.”