Sweet Little Lies
Copyright © 2020 J.D. Hollyfield
Cover Design: Black Widow Designs
Photo: Deposit Photos
Editor: Word Nerd Editing
Proofing: Novel Mechanic
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
About This Book
More from J.D. Hollyfield
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
About the Author
More from J.D. Hollyfield
Acknowledgements
He wasn’t what destiny had in store for me.
He was everything wrong in a man I was supposed to fall in love with.
He was dangerous.
The words he tempted me with were simply sweet little lies to lure me in. And now…
I’m trapped in his web of desire and temptation.
She only had herself to blame.
Taunting the beast with the forbidden fruit.
A man can only be tempted for so long, until he takes a bite. Devours his prey.
Now she’s my pretty little toy.
And I will stop at nothing to break her. Unless…
She breaks me first.
Dirty Little Secret Duet
Bad Daddy
Love Not Included Series
Life in a Rut, Love not Included
Life Next Door
My So Called Life
Life as We Know It
Standalones
Faking It
Love Broken
Sundays are for Hangovers
Conheartists
Lake Redstone
Junkie
Chicks, Man
Paranormal/Fantasy
Sinful Instincts
Unlocking Adeline
#HotCom Series
Passing Peter Parker
Creed’s Expectations
Exquisite Taste
2 Lovers Series
Text 2 Lovers
Hate 2 Lovers
Thieves 2 Lovers
Four Father Series
Blackstone
Four Sons Series
Hayden
We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied us.
—Francois Rabelais
He wasn’t what destiny had in store for me. He was everything wrong in a man I was supposed to fall in love with. He was dangerous. His eyes told me so. The words he tempted me with were simply sweet little lies to lure me in. And now, I’m trapped in his web of desire and temptation.
Hazel
“Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies…more, Mommy, more!”
I sit on the park bench, watching a mother and daughter bond over a stupid nursery rhyme. The happy cries of a little girl soak into my mind, and I lose myself in her laughter. Her eyes shine bright with joy as her mother spins her round and round in anticipation of them falling into the soft grass.
“Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!” she screams in delight. Their matching dresses fluff as air takes flight up their skirts, and they playfully fall to the ground. Their happiness is a sharp reminder of the life I never had.
When the woman cups her little girl’s cheek, my eyes stay glued to her lips. Three little words fall off her tongue—I love you. Another ping to my chest—a reminder of my mother and her cruelty.
“Can you sing me the London Bridges one, mommy?”
“Grow up, child. Don’t you know nursery rhymes are evil?”
“What does evil mean, mommy?”
“It means they aren’t meant to comfort you; they’re meant to scare you. All your silly pleading to sing to you. Three Blind Mice? It’s about animal mutilation. Rock-a-bye Baby? It’s about killing children. Oh, and your favorite, Jack and Jill? That one’s about murder-suicide. God, Hazel. Be more like me. Close your eyes and dream about finding a man who will deal with all your neediness. Lord knows you’ll need a brave man to handle you.”
That was my childhood. No warm embraces. No dates at the park. No bullshit endearments. Where other normal kids were full of love and affection, I was running on empty.
The lack of affection from my alcoholic mother. Lack of attention from my workaholic father. Rejection is a hard pill to swallow—especially when it’s from two people who should be suffocating me with it. The only thing I was suffocating from was loneliness.
Growing up, I didn’t set out to be a wild child. I was just so desperate to be loved, I went and searched for it in all the wrong places. Gaining Daddy’s attention by getting caught underage drinking. Flaunting my young body in front of anything and anyone who would take notice. Acting out was the only way I knew how to get them to notice me. And so I kept doing it.
Did my parents love me? It depends on which one we’re talking about.
My dad has always shown me love through materialistic ways. When I was young, he would load me up with all the limited-edition dolls. Buy up the entire world of all things pink. Get ponies and every princess alive at my birthday parties. His material love was endless. And still is.
My mother’s love, on the other hand, was nonexistent. I was the vacation disruption, the sobriety killer, the brat who took her youth, the child who ruined her body.
Family of the year, right? Far from it. I couldn’t stop landing myself in pile after pile of shame, choosing the wrong friends and the wrong boyfriends. I found myself so desperate for affection that I allowed my private yoga instructor to fill my head with such sweet words that I gave him my virginity at the young age of sixteen.
I should also mention that he had been fucking my mom at the same time. Probably the only thing she and I ever had in common.
It wasn’t the worst news to get slapped with. My dad caught wind and instantly kicked her ass out. The funny thing is, she didn’t fight. Just left without a goodbye or a smidge of regret.
I can’t paint my entire life as a sob story. I did have my dad. He just struggled to show me affection in ways I desperately needed. After mom left, things got better. I think it just took some time for him to notice anything outside of work. And I guess finding out your wife is cheating on you will do that.
And things did get better. Dad stepped up. It was the two of us against the world. The amount of pizza and ice cream nights were endless. The only problem was he was on conference calls
ninety percent of the time. I couldn’t fault him for who he was. He worked very hard to create a life where we would want for nothing. It’s a shame the only thing I wanted was priceless.
Congrats on the birth of my daddy issues. It’s a boy.
And boy do I have issues. They seem to be a problem these days because it’s not just my aching desire for attention—it’s more. There’s this dire need to test the waters of some very unchartered territory—extremely off-limits waters. As in shark infested with red flags waving all around me saying Do. Not. Swim.
My attention is drawn back to the family as the girl’s father joins them, kneeling in his expensive suit, kissing them both. I admire the way his suit jacket accentuates his thick arms, and his dark hair, which I bet feels thick and soft to the touch. When his lips curl into a happy smile, I bite at my lower lip, wondering how they would feel kissing me. How his large hands would feel fondling my small breasts. I imagine his family walking away and me taking their place, stealing his attention. Laying me against the plush grass and showing me what it feels like to be wanted, loved.
But nothing ignites inside me. The fantasy becomes forced, and I find myself lacking the fire only one person creates inside me. A man who invokes a whirlwind of butterflies to take flight inside my chest. My skin flushes at the mere thought of him, and wetness builds between my legs.
Gabriel Walker.
My father’s best friend.
My dad would send me off to live with a bunch of nuns if he knew the forbidden thoughts I have about his best friend. Then again, he’s to blame. How could I possibly want a man twice my age? Why am I not eyeing the boys at school? Well, because my tastes are richer than that. And I’m not talking wealth. I’m talking stamina—a man who is so far off my radar, I shouldn’t even be debating the undebatable. The list goes on and on who and what I can blame for the impermissible desire I crave. My mother for abandoning me, or my daddy issues for so desperately making me want a real man to hold me and tell me it’s going to be okay. Maybe life in general for not guiding me in the right direction. Or possibly my heart, which beats unexpectedly for someone who is explicitly off limits.
I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my time. I’ve taken things from people and crossed the line in more ways than I’d like to admit. But nothing tops the thoughts jumbling in my head right now—my plan to seduce a man entirely out of my league. A man I’ve fantasized about being under for most of my adolescent years. Everybody has their own addictions, and my drug of choice happens to be him. I always knew our age-gap was an obstacle, but rules would be broken no matter what.
So I waited. Watched. Flaunted my taut little self in front of him until it was time. Finally, I was eighteen, ripe, and of age. And now, with time ticking frantically away until I go to college, I know I’m ready to commit the sin of a lifetime and take on the burden of the downfall.
It’s now or never.
The question is: will he bite?
I sure as hell hope he does. Literally and figuratively.
Becoming bored of the view before me, I get up off the bench, and start walking to my car. When I pass the cute little family, I can’t help but bend down and whisper to the little girl. “For the record, Ring Around the Rosie is about a plague that killed a lot of people. And the ashes? Yeah, that’s everyone dying. You should really do more research into your nursery rhymes.”
Straightening, I wink at her daddy and walk away.
Hazel
The blazing fire in the sky beats down on my porcelain skin, giving it a sun-kissed glow. Today, I decided on my skimpiest white bikini. One that forces anyone to take a second glance. One I know he’ll willingly notice. The water glistens at my toes as I sunbathe along the pool’s edge, knowing he’s inside with my dad.
Gabriel Walker.
A man who’s been starring in my dreams for as far back as I can remember. I can’t specifically pinpoint the time and day my thoughts started to change about him. Was it during the many dinners he came to? The late-night drinks with my dad where I would interrupt and insist they entertain me until it was time for bed? Or was it the same time I realized he was also noticing me?
Gabriel was a man of extreme control. A cut-throat businessman—just like my dad—but with bigger fangs. Nothing about him intimidated me, though. Being around him was just pure excitement. His deep voice, always laced with intent. His thick biceps creating this sensation between my thighs whenever he brought his scotch to his full lips. And the way his smoldering eyes washed over me, seeing through me, yet not seeing me at all.
He was dangerous and out of my league—in more ways than one—and I wanted him with every sense of my being.
Yeah, it was risky. A risk that may finally push my dad over the edge with having enough of my antics. But maybe it will pan out. I’ve spent my entire summer fantasizing about his best friend. Now that I’m heading off to college in a few weeks, it’s now or never. I need to dangle the bait in front of the beast and see if he bites or move on.
But I don’t plan on making it easy for him to walk away.
The afternoon heat becomes unbearable. I get up and walk inside, allowing the brisk air-conditioning to chill the sweat across my chest. My bare feet hit the marble tile as I make my way to Dad’s office. Even though I know they’re neck-deep in talking business, a text from earlier gives me a reason to bother them.
I adjust my hair, make sure my breasts are perky and right where they need to be, and enter his office, acting oblivious to his company. I don’t need to turn my head to know Gabriel’s sitting on Dad’s couch sipping his scotch, the other hand holding a Cuban cigar. “Hey, Daddy! Guess what—”
As expected, he holds up his finger, silently telling me to hold on while he finishes up his call. I count to three before slowly turning to face Gabriel, admiring him in all his divine male glory, casual and relaxed, one leg draped over the other. “Oh, hey, Gabriel.” One, two, three. I count in my head, trying to keep my composure as I admire him from head to toe—his pristine suit, expensive shoes, and clean-cut hairstyle. Everything about him screams money, but it suits him. Just like my dad, he’s filthy rich. When you have more money than you’ll ever know what to do with, I guess you spend your fortune on your good looks. He wasn’t just good looking, though. He was more comparable to a god. He may even hit the gym more than my dad—if that’s possible.
Getting lost in his aura, I nibble on my bottom lip. “I’ll be leaving for school soon. Gonna miss me?”
His full lips wrap around his cigar as his eyes penetrate through me, undressing me inch by inch. Something electric passes between us, stealing my breath and forces me to look away. My palms brush up and down my arms, trying to get rid of the buzzing sensation layering my heated skin.
Gabriel takes a deep puff of his cigar, the cloud of smoke recapturing my attention. He continues to sit in his relaxed manner and has yet to stop focusing on me. The deep blue of his eyes accentuates his wicked smile. My cheeks flush, suddenly feeling like this was a bad idea. Embarrassed that I’m folding so quickly, I start to ramble. “I…uh, just needed to speak to my dad. College stuff. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Your interruption is very much welcomed.” He inhales another tug of his cigar and sits forward. “And it seems you were due for a break. You’re starting to burn.”
My eyes drop to my chest, only to realize I’m as red as an apple. “Oh, shoot. You’re right.”
Gabriel chuckles, the sound waking the nest of butterflies in my belly. “You should make sure your boyfriend applies sunblock next time.”
His suggestion is a question. One he asks regularly. He wants to know if I have a boyfriend. And he waits for the same answer he always gets. “Gabriel, you know I don’t have a boyfriend.”
I love it when he fishes for information. I feed off the satisfaction in his eyes. As if he’s glad no one has me.
I let his penetrating stare allow me to believe I belong to him. It’s been years since I started seeing
him as more than just my dad’s friend. Thoughts that were once innocent have now ignited like a blazing wildfire of burning hot desire. He’s taken control of my thoughts. Captured my dreams. A man who would split me in two if my fantasies ever transpired into reality.
“So, what are you and Dad up to now? Getting into trouble as always?” I turn on my flirtation.
Again, with his stare. It’s subtle, but there’s desire behind his steely gaze. He slowly stands, walking close to me. The air in the room shifts, and my heart thunders. “Depends on what you consider trouble, little bird.”
A layer of goosebumps wrap around my body at his pet name for me. Little bird. The nickname he’s secretly called me since this strange connection between us began.
“Where are you running away to so late at night?”
I whip around at the sound of his voice. His deep baritone sends a wave of heat between my thighs. “Out. I’m going out.”
His eyes light a fire inside me, one that threatens to burn my entire world to ash if I allow it. “Aren’t you too young to be sneaking away in the night? Someone might steal you and keep you for themselves.”
My chest rises and falls in short pants. “You sound like my dad. He can’t keep me caged in here forever. I’m a big girl now.”
“And what if that’s what’s best. A little bird like yourself can get lost in the big world. Taken advantage of.” My heart races. As if he senses my nervousness, he takes a step toward me, leaning forward and clasping my chin. “Maybe it’s best you stay caged.”
I shake off the memory as his hand reaches out, pressing his chilled glass to my chest. “You should really have someone take care of that sunburn. Skin like yours, it’s meant to stay porcelain.” He pulls his drink back and takes a long sip.
“If it’s not too much trouble, maybe you can come out and help me. Keep me company for a bit. It looks like my dad’s going to be on the phone a while.”
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