Liar

by Cole, Fiona

  “This painting here.” She grabbed it and moved it behind the lamp on the desk. “It adds color to the neutral feel of the room. But not too much. And then this abstract-flower-looking-statue can go here.” She arranged them all and pushed everything else off to the side, standing back to look at her work when she was done. “That way, it gives the illusion of flowers without actually having the hassle of flowers.”

  I nodded, impressed with her final product. “Okay.”

  Her head jerked to me. “Okay?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “Don’t you need to confer with your designer? A professional?”

  “Nah. You seem to know what you’re doing. I’m impressed.”

  Maybe for the first time ever, I saw a smile tip Olivia’s lips that wasn’t playful and devious. It was soft and paired with the way her shoulders went back, and her chin lifted, she shined with pride. Olivia was a confident young woman, but I couldn’t recall a time I’d seen her take pride in her work.

  I was unable to stop myself from smiling with her. She looked beautiful.

  Standing upright, I nodded my head toward the door. “Come on. I’ll show you the other floors.”

  “Aren’t they the same as this one?” she asked, following me out.

  “Nope. Each floor has rooms decorated differently.”

  “That’s so cool. People will want to keep coming back until they’re able to experience each room.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Your designer is smart.”

  “That idea was all me.”

  “Oh, well then, lucky guess.” She shrugged but pursed her lips to keep from laughing.

  “You’re hilarious, Miss Witt.”

  She bowed as we exited the elevator and went to another room. She entered and spun, taking in the browns, leather, and darker woods, but stopped when she spotted the four-post bed. She turned her head slowly to look over her shoulder, giving me the devious smirk, I was becoming to know so well.

  “Did you plan each floor to look like a room at Voyeur?”

  I barked a laugh. “Not that I know of.”

  “Oh, come on. Is this the floor where I get tied up and tortured with pleasure?”

  She flopped back on the bed and made an X with her body, her arms, and legs reaching for each post. I laughed again, amazed that this girl could both humor me and turn me on all at once.

  She threw an arm over her eyes. “Help,” she said in a breathy voice. “I’ve been captured by a Viking and tied up for his pleasure. I’m too young to have death by orgasms.”

  “What a way to go,” I managed to say through my laughter. I remained glued to the wall across from the bed, not trusting myself to not fall on top of her and take her up on her idea.

  She flung her arm wide and lifted her head to give me a serious look. “Where’s the gang-bang floor? I want to visit that one.”

  “Jesus.” I rolled my eyes, and my cheeks cramped from smiling so much. Shaking my head, I peeled myself off the wall and headed to the door. “Come on, Damsel in Distress. We have work to do.”

  Once we made it back to the lobby, Vivian waved me over. “Your tux was delivered from the tailors for the charity event tonight.”

  “Are you going to the gala for the survivors of human trafficking?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes. We make a hefty donation. Part of business is to give back to the town you’re in.”

  “Yeah, it’s a local tech company that started the foundation. Mom knows all the local charities.”

  “Are you going?” My chest thumped at the possibility.

  “I thought about it. I needed to see how caught up on homework I could get.”

  “Well, if you’re not too busy with school, you should come as my companion.” I took a drink of coffee to hide my wince. Stupid, stupid mouth opening before thinking. I was supposed to be putting distance between us.

  “Mr. Kent,” she gasped and put her hand to her chest. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  I choked on the warm liquid and coughed, immediately turning to see Vivian’s reaction to Olivia’s open flirting.

  She laughed alongside Olivia, patting her arm like it was a funny joke at my expense. “I think it’s a great idea for you to go,” Vivian encouraged.

  “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about galas and business, Mr. Kent. I’ve been attending events since I could walk. I’m a pro.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  She smiled wide and turned on her toe. “I’m off to study some spreadsheets with Kyle.” She was halfway across the lobby when she called over her shoulder. “Pick me up at five.”

  * * *

  Olivia: I’m running a little late. So, I left the key with the doorman. Come on up.

  I’d already left the hotel when her message came through, and of course, I was running early. I’d gotten my work done at the hotel and felt antsy—eager to pick her up. I figured being thirty minutes early wouldn’t have been a big deal.

  I thought about waiting in the car, but when the driver pulled up to the building, the urge to go in—to see her—overwhelmed me. Maybe we’d have a drink and talk as she finished getting ready. I wanted to repeat the lightness she’d created in the hotel earlier. She’d been funny and carefree, and maybe I wanted to be carefree with her.

  I wasn’t a serious man by any means. Julia hadn’t been wrong when she’d called Daniel and I, big kids. We played and enjoyed life with only the obligations we set upon ourselves, which wasn’t much outside of work. But other than Daniel, I was carefree alone, and for that hour in the hotel with Olivia, I wasn’t so alone anymore. I hadn’t anticipated how much I’d like that. I’d had a serious relationship, but the woman had made demands of me to be someone I wasn’t and sucked the joy out of our love.

  Olivia infused me with her extra kind of happiness, only spurring mine on more.

  So, I told the driver to be back in forty-five minutes and headed on in.

  “I’m here to see Olivia Witt. She said there’d be a key for me.”

  The man at the desk looked me up and down with a raised brow and pinched lips like I was some sexual predator. But he gave me the key regardless.

  I laughed when I walked into the elevator and saw Olivia’s apartment was on the top floor. I remembered hearing David grumble about his daughter wanting to live in the dorms her first year of college. He’d paced and cursed her stubbornness and claimed it was only a matter of time before she gave in to his offer of the penthouse. I hadn’t ever met Olivia at that time, but just watching David run his fingers through his hair while he clutched a tumbler of whiskey let me know she was a spitfire.

  I knocked, and when no one answered, I let myself in. “Hello?”

  I had no idea where she’d be in the apartment, and I didn’t want to startle her since she wasn’t expecting me for at least another thirty minutes.

  No sound came from the open living area. Looking left and right, I took in the entirety of the apartment except for what lay down the hall. I headed that way, planning on just popping my head into her room to let her know I was there. I knocked on the first door and eased it open when no one responded to find a small office.

  There was no response when I knocked on the next door, but when I opened it, I found a room full of soft grays, navy, and white. There were clothes strewn across the bed and a trail of shoes from a walk-in closet to the mirror in the corner. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, sighing when her scent of vanilla cupcakes assaulted me. God, I loved that smell.

  A soft moan had my head snapping to the left, and my heart stuttering in my chest. Steam poured from the crack in the door. Obviously, she was showering, and I needed to leave. I’d let her know I was there when she was out. I was stepping back to do just that when another moan slipped into my ears, igniting my blood and pumping it harder to my groin.

  I needed to get out of there. I needed my feet to move back.

  Instead, of their own will, they moved forward.


  Another moan. This time accompanied by a whimper.

  The wisps of steam infused with the rich scent of vanilla and coconut swirled around me, her soft sounds calling to me like a Siren. My palm pressed flat against the door and pushed it slowly open.

  I took a single step into the hot room and was met with a sink scattered with products, and a mirror. My whole body finally froze like it should have done before I’d even stepped into her room. Before I’d even stepped into this building.

  I looked in the mirror that didn’t fog up, giving me a perfect view into the shower behind the door. The glass doors were coated with steam, but it didn’t impede my view of the pale skin pressed against the shower wall.

  Her blonde hair looked darker as it clung to her breasts.

  Her blue eyes were closed under brows furrowed in concentration.

  Her lips were parted…just like her legs.

  She sat on a bench, her head tipped back against the white tiles as her chest heaved, and she worked a purple wand against the folds of her pussy.

  She slid the entire length deep inside her and moaned. I gripped my aching cock and moaned with her. I hadn’t meant to make a sound. I wasn’t sure what I’d meant to do. I think I wanted to do the right thing and back out, pretending I hadn’t seen it.

  But I’d never been good at doing the right thing.

  As soon as the sound vibrated my chest, my eyes shot up to see if she’d heard. Her blue eyes were open and wide with shock when they met mine through the mirror.

  Her hands hadn’t stopped moving, and I waited, holding my breath for her to say something.

  Anything.

  And she did.

  Locking our fate into place with one single word.

  “Kent.”

  9 Olivia

  I should’ve stopped.

  I shouldn’t have moaned his name.

  I should’ve been shocked and covering myself—ashamed of being caught masturbating in a shower.

  But I wasn’t.

  His eyes singed me through the glass, and electrical power surged through my limbs. My lips parted, and his name fell from them like it’d been waiting there my whole life.

  I waited for him to do something—say something. Instead, he stood there frozen, watching me.

  Well, if he wanted to watch, I’d give him a show.

  I moaned again as I slid the toy through my folds and pressed it inside. I wished it was him. Just like my fantasy.

  I’d been chasing an orgasm with the vision of him behind my closed eyes.

  But there he stood like my fantasy had been so fierce—so desperate—it conjured him before me.

  Except, in my fantasy, he rushed to join me in the shower. Instead of standing there, frozen.

  I slid the toy out and back in one more time, holding his stare. When he refused to move, I hesitated. Maybe I misread the tense muscles of his body. Maybe I was making a mistake, and he wanted me to stop.

  Heat burned my cheeks, and I dropped my gaze as I pulled the toy from my opening.

  “Don’t.” His voice cracked like a whip in the tiled room.

  My eyes snapped back to his. He still stood there like a statue, and I had a moment of wondering if I’d imagined his command. Then his body relaxed in increments. His shoulders rolled back. His fists unclenched. His posture softened as he leaned back on the counter, and his lips quirked up on one side.

  “Finish for me,” he ordered his voice like gravel. “Let me hear your whimpers while you make yourself come.”

  My heart thundered, rushing blood to my core, creating a pulse so strong I ached to ease it. I slid the toy back inside and held it there, rolling my hips and pressing my thumb to my clit.

  “Roll your nipples.”

  Scooting my butt to the edge of the seat, I spread my legs wide and continued to fuck the toy, giving him the sounds he demanded. My hand slid up my body until it cupped my breast, my fingers moving to roll and tug the hard tip.

  Each pinch pulled a cry from my parted lips, and I braced myself for the orgasm about to consume me.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  His voice was like a touch, vibrating across the space between us and rolling across my skin, bringing it to life.

  “You,” I breathed. I managed to keep my eyes open and watched his fists clench around the counter, his jaw tight. “Inside me. Fucking me. Taking me. Consuming me.”

  Just speaking about how much I wanted him was too much, and my body caved. My back arched as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. My cries rattled against the shower, mixing with the falling water like I was playing a symphony just for him.

  My body slowly relaxed, and I tugged the toy from my still spasming pussy, but I didn’t move from my position on the bench. I held his stare, almost challenging him to make the next move.

  “Come here.”

  Victory sparked inside me, and I bit my lip to hold back the gloating smile. I stood and turned the water off before walking across the heated tile to him. I didn’t bother to grab a towel and dry off, just held his gaze, and strutted over. When I was almost pressed to where he still leaned against the counter, I lifted my hand, wanting to touch him.

  Before I could get too far, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist like a shackle. The fast movement shocked me and had me frozen to the spot, eyes wide. The barely reined in desire behind his dark eyes broke free, and a slow smile spread across his lips.

  It was the only warning I had before he swiftly tugged me forward, shifting our positions. He pressed me against the counter, facing the mirror, keeping my arm tugged up behind me, between us.

  The soft fabric of his slacks rubbed against my bare skin as he pressed his hard length between the cheeks of my ass, fucking me softly. He held my stare in the mirror, daring me to fight him—to tell him to let me go, but that was the last thing I wanted. He could man-handle me all day.

  He thought he needed to use kid-gloves with me, but I was ready to show him how much I wanted to take. The hand gripping my wrist pushed against my back, forcing me to bend over the counter. He let me go to grab a condom from his wallet, and my pulse thundered harder.

  He was going to fuck me. This wasn’t foreplay. This was sex, and I was ready, on the verge of tears because I was so happy. I’d said I didn’t need him, and I wouldn’t chase him, but god, I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed this until I knew it was finally going to happen.

  I looked at the stranger in the mirror. My eyes darkened like a raging ocean cresting flushed cheeks, damp from the steam of the shower. My lips were parted—my breaths escaping in puffs to fog the mirror in front of me.

  I barely held back a moan when his knuckles brushed against my core so he could unbuckle his pants and slip the condom on. I wanted to push back against him, rub myself on him like a cat in heat, but he had me pinned firmly.

  There was no warning before the fat head of his cock brushed my folds, and he pushed all the way in until his balls rested against my clit. He held himself there, his brow furrowed in concentration, his nostrils flared. I couldn’t stop myself. I wiggled to get some friction, and his eyes snapped open, a fierce stare telling me he had all control.

  A hand snaked in my hair and gripped hard, tugging me until I was upright. My back was arched, my breasts thrust forward. I opened my lips for a witty taunt when he pulled out and began fucking me.

  He didn’t say a word, making the whole scene that much more illicit. An older man fucking a younger woman in silence, taking what he wanted. All of it made me wetter—more eager to come.

  He only gave grunts of pleasure that mixed with my cries. He fucked me like a mad-man, dropping his eyes to watch my breasts bounce with each aggressive thrust.

  I needed more of him. I needed him to touch me everywhere, to consume me.

  I gripped his hand and brought it to my breasts, demanding, “More. Please.”

  He leaned down to bite my shoulder at the same time his fingers gripped my nipple in a punis
hing twist that had my pussy pulsing hard.

  So close. I was so close to coming.

  His hand slid up my chest to my neck, wrapping around it like a collar.

  “Tap the counter to stop.”

  The words were so soft, I thought I may have made them up in my need to hear him. But then his thumb and fingers pressed on each side of my neck, choking me. My fight or flight kicked in and demanded I slap the counter in panic, but instead, I locked my eyes with Kent’s and focused on the feel of him tunneling in and out of my cunt.

  As if my ability to not freak out spurred him on, he squeezed tighter and fucked me harder and harder until I became lost on where he began, and I ended.

  Spots danced before my eyes, and my body floated like a balloon. Everything became hazy right before he let go, and I gasped, sucking air as deep into my lungs as possible. It was like I’d sucked a bomb inside my body that detonated. I screamed my pleasure, my whole body tingling and throbbing. I lost myself in the rush of pleasure that intensified more than anything I’d ever felt. I was so lost in myself that I was barely aware of his own moans against my neck.

  Our gasping breaths echoed around the bathroom like we’d sprinted through a race. My limbs still tingled, and I would’ve collapsed to the floor if he wasn’t holding me up.

  “What the hell was that?” I breathed. He’d given me so much pleasure our first night together, but I’d never felt anything like I had when he’d released my throat, and I’d slammed back into my body just to orgasm.

  “Did you not like—”

  “Hell, no. It was amazing.” I turned my face to his, wanting to kiss him and giggled, light-hearted and euphoric. “If that was no kid gloves, then bring it on.”

  He inched his face away and gave me a disapproving look, puncturing a hole in my happy place. “Olivia…I can’t— We can’t—”