I didn’t hint at vulnerability or let my guard down.
Greg had no clue how hard this was for me. He merely guffawed at the nickname and plied me with more champagne I didn’t want.
Every single conversation I put my all into. I smiled and nodded and listened. My cheeks hurt from fake grinning, my feet ached from standing, and my exposed back became extra sensitive to everything. My skin prickled with minor drafts as people moved behind me, warm patches as people stood close by, and even the tell-tale tingle of people staring at me, itching spots on my shoulder blades as their eyes became fingers and stroked me.
Out of the sixteen people here—eight women and eight men—Greg and I held our own. My dress had started the poshest of them all, but as more people arrived, I’d settled into an array of chiffon and lace, finally accepting that Fleur knew what she was doing.
The dress didn’t take away my power. It gave me power. And for the first time, I believed in my own self-worth outside of Belle Elle. That I could hold my head high and not be afraid of judgment or wrongdoing. That I was my own person and not just a cog in the conglomerate my family had created. My world was just as good as any others—if not better.
The relief in that gave me a well of kindness to forget that Greg got on my nerves, and I didn’t turn away from his touches of affection. I accepted three more glasses of champagne, even though the room grew warm and my skin glowed with bubbly heat.
By hour two, my bladder had done all the retaining of alcohol it could, and I excused myself to find the restroom.
Greg gave me a kiss on the cheek—which I didn’t wipe away because the liquor made everything that much more acceptable—and left the roped-off area to make my way through the club.
I guessed the time was ten p.m. or so, but already, the place crawled with bodies and the aura of a good night ahead.
Finding the bathroom, I entered and slammed to a stop as I came face to face with my reflection in a full-length mirror.
Who the hell is that woman?
Her braid was a little disheveled with curls free and soft around her face. Her lips were puffy from licking droplets of champagne with remnants of pale pink lipstick. Her smoky eyes rimmed blue that looked far too sated and happy to be real.
I looked...loose.
My limbs moved with a relaxation I never had when sober. My movements less jerky and sedate.
Being tipsy suits you.
I rolled my eyes, listing a little to the left as the room swayed.
Being tipsy was a new experience and one I wouldn’t often do. The false courage and intoxicating bravado could screw up my careful rules.
Greg suddenly didn’t seem so annoying. Chloe wasn’t such a bad girl. And the thought of going to work tomorrow was a task I had no intention of fulfilling as long as the beat of a bassy tune worked through my bones.
Wanting to return to the party, I quickly did what I was there to do and washed my hands. Drying my fingers on a paper towel, I ran the remaining dampness over my arms to cool my overheated skin.
I’d come to this club cold, and now, I was burning up.
Something else was burning up, too.
Something that normally only came alive around few very select males. My breasts were heavy, and a tugging sensation deep inside my belly demanded another drink—to let go for once. To stop fighting and let Greg kiss me because he was the only male around who knew what I was and who I had to be. He’d been raised in the same environment.
So what he annoyed me most of the time and didn’t seem to truly care about me but only my legacy? He was a man. I was a woman. It was time to do something about my little problem and figure out how to be a sexual creature and not an untouched virgin any longer.
Striding from the bathroom, I walked with purpose, brushing against strangers and enjoying it for once rather than cringing at having no personal space. Up ahead, Greg laughed and touched Chloe’s waist, bending to whisper something in her ear. The rest of the group mingled in twos and fours, chatting and drinking.
I knew those people.
I had a life.
I was invited to party with them.
I had freedom, after all.
Only, whatever freedom I thought I had jerked to a stop as a man’s arm snaked around my waist, yanking me back. My languidness from champagne meant I folded neatly into his embrace, too slow to fight.
His lips landed on my ear. “If it was coincidence yesterday, it has to be fate today.”
I froze.
Whatever tipsiness I suffered tripled as his hands roamed my ribcage, taking liberties he wasn’t given, rubbing the soft silk into my skin in ways that should be illegal.
“Hello, Elle.” His lips traced from my ear to my throat, nudging my braid to gain better access.
I shivered.
My body melted—not from him but the champagne. It had to be the champagne. I wouldn’t allow it to be him.
Sucking in a breath, I tore myself from his embrace and swiveled to face him.
He was just as divine. Just as cocky. Just as dangerous.
“Are you stalking me?”
Mr. Everett grinned. “I wouldn’t dare.”
He stood in a gray suit with the cuffs of his blazer and white shirt pushed half-way up his forearms. How he managed to get the material that high over how muscular his arms were, I didn’t know. The strobe light decorated his hair, making it seem light then dark, light then dark. The yin and yang of right and wrong—the glimpse of imperfections that made him eternally frustrating.
“After all, why waste my time when the universe keeps putting you in my path?”
My mouth watered as his gaze locked onto my lips. A black ravenousness filled his eyes that any hot-blooded female understood—virgin or promiscuous.
“I don’t believe it’s the universe.” I blinked, forcing myself to cling broken-nail tight to sanity. “I think it’s some sort of game you’re playing.”
He lowered his jaw, stepping closer until our chests brushed. My nipples tightened embarrassingly hard. Not wearing a bra meant my reaction was noticeable through the burnished gold dress.
He licked his bottom lip, his gaze dropping to my breasts then back to my mouth. “If I was playing something, are you intrigued enough to learn the rules?”
“Never.”
His lips smiled but his face was toxic. “Little liar.”
His hand came up, tucking a wayward curl behind my ear. His fingers captured the diamante chandelier earrings I wore, tugging gently. “I think you are ready to play with me, you just don’t want to admit it.” He bent his head, breathing into my ear. “I’ve been patient, but I meant what I said to your father. I can make you do things, Elle. Things you want to do. Things I want to do. I particularly liked when you said you’d get on your knees and call me, what was it? Oh, master?”
I jerked back, but with his fingers holding my earring, I daren’t move quickly or far.
He bent forward. His tongue licked my lobe just once.
A lightning bolt arched from his tongue to my belly. A crack. A fissure. A deep cavernous ache I needed, needed to fill.
“One date,” he murmured. “That’s all I’m asking.”
The champagne switched to more potent alcohol. Had I truly had four glasses? It felt like twelve.
I swam in air. I wobbled in heat. I swayed as his hands locked around my hips, dragging me into him. Surrounded by people yet all alone in our little cosmos, he rocked his erection into my stomach, grinding his teeth with the same angry desire rampaging in my blood.
The room spun. I did my best to keep control. “I don’t—I don’t even like you.”
“I don’t like you.”
“Then—” He shocked me mute as he kissed my cheek, then rewarded such sweetness with a nasty nip.
“Then what?” he taunted. “Finish, Elle.”
My head weighed more than the galaxy. “Then...let me go.”
“Can’t.” The tip of his tongue soothed the pinch of pain from his tee
th.
Can’t?
My mind doggy paddled through syrup.
Why can’t you? Isn’t mutual affection the first key to unlocking passions padlock?
His fingers looped around my throat, full of threat, robust with peril. “Liking each other doesn’t matter.” His fingers dug tighter into my skin. “What matters is how you feel about this.” He glanced around, assessing how public we were, before his hand swooped between us and cupped between my legs.
The world shot to a standstill.
There was no more music. No more club.
I stood in mud so thick, I couldn’t move. My only way free was this bastard and he was the one drowning me.
Everything inside me clenched then stretched then multiplied with a thousand screaming ‘mores.’
“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop. Tell me to remove my hand, and I’ll remove my hand.” His fingers feathered over me, rocking his palm against my clit; his fingers pressing over the tight lace protecting me. “But if you tell me you’re all right with this, if you tell me to keep going, then you play by my rules. You become mine in every fucking sense.”
I shivered as his fingers probed harder. I’d never been touched that way—let alone in a crowded bar.
“I—I don’t know.” Words were the hardest thing in the world to form. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I’ll help you.” His hand vanished. His body separated from mine as he grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the dark hallway of the bathrooms. Marching past the men’s and women’s, he tucked me against the wall and pressed me hard against it.
The moment I was trapped, he put his full weight on me, grabbed my leg, and hoisted it over his hip.
I gasped as he rocked his erection again, pressing directly where his hand had been only seconds before. “Oh—”
“That’s one word.” His face flashed with raven desire. “Say a few more. Agree to play with me.”
My head wanted to roll back and break away as his mouth fastened against my throat—kissing, biting, sucking. I wanted no more thoughts, no more dos and don’ts. No more reasons why this was wrong and I needed to end it before I forgot everything.
My hands automatically flew to his hair, yanking on the softness, twining my fingers through his thick, healthy strands. The exquisite feel of him jerked me from the moment. For a second, I’d expected dreadlocked curls and chocolate. Of soft beards and urgent moonlight.
My body swelled but my heart shriveled.
Mr. Everett was not Nameless. Yet he was the second man to ever kiss and touch me in such a way—an accolade I didn’t know if he deserved.
“Wait—I don’t know what you want.”
He chuckled into my neck. “I thought it was fucking obvious.” He thrust up, his shoes squeaking a little on the hardwood floor as he slammed me into the wall with his pressure. “I want to fuck you, Elle.”
My insides puddled at the crudeness. My ears rang for more even while my lips curled in disgust.
“I want to take you, own you, control you.” His voice bordered on feral. “I’m not going to lie. I could say I wanted to date and pretend to fall for you. But I won’t.”
Conversation helped remind me I was human not an animal. I latched onto words. “So...you just want sex?”
“What I want is to kiss you.” His head came up, his lips glistening from sucking my throat. “Let me do that, then decide on the rest.”
He hypnotized me. He corrupted me.
I breathed fast.
He saw a split-second answer—an answer I wished I could retract—and his mouth descended on mine.
His lips were soft but commanding, tearing through my chastity, spearing his tongue past my teeth.
I moaned as he took a kiss and turned it into something else. He switched it into water and fire and heat and chill. He hoisted me up the wall until the floor no longer existed, just air. Holding me up with his hips jammed against mine, he seared our bodies together.
And then, it was over.
Sharp, sweet, sudden...entirely soul-destroying.
“Say yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes to letting me have you.” His voice blistered. “Say yes and you’re mine and whatever comes next is my choice, not yours. You’ll answer to me. I’ll do whatever the hell I want. Sometimes, you’ll hate me. Other times, you’ll be grateful for my interference. Most of the time, you’ll probably want to kill me.”
He kissed me again. “But I can promise you if you say yes, fuck I’ll make you feel good. I’ll give you what you’ve been looking for. I’ll make you free.”
The stream of eloquence matched his hard-edged charm. He was pretty. Too pretty. So pretty it masked the ugliness hidden inside. It made me forget that there were more things to seek than just beauty—deeper things. Things he didn’t possess.
In that hallway, in his arms, I didn’t care.
I hated that I didn’t care.
But that was the truth.
He made me shallow.
“Elle?” A voice interrupted our rapid breathing and aching bodies.
Instantly, Mr. Everett let me fall to my heels, backing away and subtly arranging his blazer over the obvious erection in his slacks. His eyes never left mine, full of promises and menacing intimidation.
I gulped, looking over his shoulder at the man who’d interrupted whatever the hell had happened.
Greg.
Smoothing my hair, I stepped forward.
Mr. Everett fell into rhythm with me, crossing his arms like a silent protector and aggressor all in one.
Greg glowered at him. “Who the hell are you?”
Mr. Everett glanced at me with a wicked smirk. That smirk held every sentence he’d uttered. Every command and description. He wanted me. I wanted him. He didn’t like me. I didn’t like him.
Hatred turned to frenzy.
A perfect drug for danger.
Everett’s lips moved; his voice worse than the champagne with intoxication. “Who am I, Elle?”
My blood quivered to finish what he’d started. My brain short-circuited to bypass the fact I wanted him while hating him. If he could knock me so off balance with just a kiss, what could he do to me in bed?
He’d made me selfish as well as shallow.
But I can’t sleep with him.
Could I?
I didn’t like him. I didn’t trust him. I definitely didn’t believe I could ever fall for him.
So what?
You’re old enough to have sex with no strings.
He’s proven to have a heart somewhere. He has a son.
He. Has. A. Son.
He could have a wife and baggage and so many other mysteries I couldn’t hope to solve. Carnal greed could never trump such laws.
Curling my hands, I shook away the fervour he’d dazed me with.
It didn’t matter I wanted, needed, craved. It would never happen...if he was with another.
But he might not be.
Are you saying you’d ignore everything else and use him if he’s single?
My nerves returned a thousand fold.
When I didn’t reply, Mr. Everett prompted me. “Answer your friend. Tell him who I am to you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are we playing or shall I walk away?”
Such an innocent question loaded with sexual mist and unsatisfied misery.
My fingers fell to my dress, stroking the material, seeking comfort and answers.
“What the fuck is going on, Elle?” Greg marched forward.
I couldn’t believe the champagne had made me think I could tolerate him. After being kissed by Mr. Everett and then even remotely entertaining the idea of doing the same with Greg, I couldn’t imagine it. It would be like seeing the most spectacular sunset only to be told I had to live in fog the rest of my life.
“One second, Greg.” I held up my hand, testing the locks and chains around my sexuality as they quaked under pressure. “Answer one question, Mr. Everett. Then I’ll give you an answer
.”
“Fine.” A sly grin decorated his handsome face. “But rest assured if your answer is yes, that’s the last time you’ll call me Mr. Everett.”
“Oh?”
He looked triumphantly at Greg as he bent to whisper in my ear. “You’ll be screaming my name as I stick my tongue inside you. You’ll be sobbing my name as I make you come over and fucking over.”
I stumbled.
His hand grabbed my elbow, a low chuckle on his breath. “That name is Penn. You might as well get used to it if, of course, your answer is what I hope.”
“Elle, are you sick?” Greg came forward, his eyes trying to murder Mr. Everett...I mean Penn.
I waved him away, flushed and nauseous, entirely too skittish to be hemmed in by another man after flashes of nakedness and dirty sex swarmed my mind.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Ignoring Greg and giving all my attention to Penn, I asked, “My question is, are you with the mother of your child?”
Penn didn’t reply.
“What?” Greg’s eyes widened. “Not only are you cheating on me with this scumbag in a nightclub hallway but he’s cheating on a family?” He threw his hands up. “For fuck's sake, Elle, I thought you were better than that. Your father believes you’re better than that. My father believes you’re better than that.”
I snarled, hating the disgust in his voice even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. Not yet, at least. If that was how those who knew me would look at me, I wanted nothing to do with whatever kinky pleasure Penn offered.
But it was as if Penn knew that.
He brought me close, whispering in my ear again as I kept my eyes locked on Greg. “I’ll answer your question, but I’ll also answer the other you just thought. First, I’m not married nor have I ever been. I’m as single as you are. I’m as confined as you are. That’s all you need to know. Second, you’re right to think people will judge you. The moment I’ve been inside you, people will know. You’ll be different. You won’t be able to help it. Rumors will start. Friends will change. Future love interests will hate you.”
I stiffened, but he pulled me closer. “But I won’t let you be subject to those rumors alone. Tell me yes, and I take control. You won’t have to make any decisions or take responsibility for what we do. It’ll all be on me.” His tongue traced the shell of my ear, hidden from Greg thanks to my fishtail braid. “Give me that word, Elle, and I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
Crown of Lies (Truth and Lies Duet #1) Page 15