Sweet Little Lies

by Hollyfield, J. D.

  “Shit, sorry…I thought… Did I just misread that?” My put-off expression answers for me. “Shit. I’m so sorry. Hey, let me get you another shot. We can talk. Dance if you want to. I thought you were into me. I thought—”

  “Hey, it’s fine. It’s just…you surprised me, that’s all.”

  His smile returns as he replaces his hands on my waist. He senses the vibrations of my phone in my pocket and reaches for it, looking at the screen. “Gabriel’s calling. Should I be worried about competition?”

  I snatch the phone out of his hand. What the hell? Why is he calling me? Now? It’s been too long. Too much time has passed. If he even tries to apologize, I won’t hear it. If he tells me what we shared was wrong, I’ll…

  “I’m sorry I have to take this. Be right back?” I force a smile and rush through the back door. Finding a quieter spot, I answer.

  “What do you want?” I snap, not holding back the anger in my voice.

  “Ah…a week at college, and she grows claws.”

  “I’m hanging up,” I threaten, but it’s just that. I stay on the line, listening to him breathe and waiting, hoping he explains. Please tell me. Don’t make me beg for it.

  “I thought you were hanging up?”

  “Why did you leave like that? Why’d you do that to me?” Even I can hear the hurt in my tone. I’m angry. Humiliated. The memory of how he left me…

  “You weren’t ready,” he replies.

  “I wasn’t ready? How was I not ready? Armageddon could have been happening around us, and I wouldn’t have cared. I was ready.”

  “You’re not ready, little bird—”

  “Oh, stop calling me that childish nickname. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “What would you like me to call you then, pet? Are you still my pet, Hazel?”

  God, say no. Tell him he’s fucked up, and you want nothing to do with him. Lie to him and tell him your body isn’t buzzing with anticipation to become his.

  “No. I’m not.” The lie burns up my throat.

  “Lies will cost you, pet.”

  A sharp sound slices through the phone. But it’s a woman’s moan I hear after that sickens me.

  “What was that?” I dare ask.

  “That was the sound of my whip, pet.”

  “And the other?”

  “That was the sound of a willing woman, ready for me to take whatever she offers.”

  My stomach turns at the image of him with another woman. “You son of a bitch.”

  Another crack. Another moan.

  “A lash for every lie, little bird.” He accentuates the nickname to prove his point.

  “Why are you doing this? You know I want you. Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Tell me who you belong to.”

  “I belong to no one,” I snap back.

  Another crack. Another moan.

  “Stop!” I scream. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Tell me who you belong to, and I will stop. I will stop inflicting the pain meant for you on this beautiful woman. Tell me who you belong to, and I’ll refrain from fucking her instead of you. Tell me—”

  “You. I belong to you.”

  He pulls the phone away and speaks, “I no longer have use for you. Leave.” Then he’s back with me. “Tell me, pet. Have you touched yourself since my fingers have been inside you?”

  Bastard. I grit my teeth. “No.”

  “Good,” he says, then hangs up.

  Gabriel

  Three days later…

  My eyes are glued to the naked woman dancing in front of me, but my mind is elsewhere. Heath is rambling about something, but I can’t focus enough to pay attention. The only thing I see is her. Pink. Wet. Willing.

  I slam my scotch, shooing the girl away to fetch me another. “I’m thinking of taking up a new girl,” I blurt out. I need complete control to feel like myself. And right now, someone has me out of sorts.

  “What happened to your old one? You break her already?” He laughs, taking a sip of his bourbon.

  “She doesn’t shine like she used to. It’s time to replace her.” It’s no secret I go through toys as fast as some go through underwear. I like them shiny and new. When they dull, I set them free. I have rules and specific tastes. When a woman no longer fulfills those tastes, she’s useless to me.

  “You know, that shit is going to catch up to you one day. Some may consider your tastes borderline illegal.”

  He has no idea.

  It’s illegal, all right, but only really in the eyes of friendship and morals. Hazel is of age, which is just about the only thing on my side. I’ve shared a private room with girls a time or two with Heath, so he knows my needs, and there’s no hiding how much of a sadistic motherfucker I can be. If he even got wind of Hazel and I. Where the fuck is that girl with my drink? “Enough about me. What has you wound all tight? Looking for a woman to take all your problems away?”

  “More like a girl the same age as my fucking daughter.”

  This grabs my attention. “Ah, now you’re speaking my language. Do tell.”

  Heath is typically stressed; he’s a powerful man in his line of business and doesn’t pull a shit ton of money without bearing the weight of the responsibility behind it. But lately, he’s been wound tighter than usual.

  “What’s there to tell? Hazel has a roommate who makes my blood boil. Just the sound of her voice makes me want to drive my cock down her throat. She’s fucking eighteen, man, and I can’t stop thinking about ripping her in two. Jesus, I’ve lost my mind. I just need to get some pussy. That’s my problem. Ignore me.” He slams the rest of his drink.

  My, my, my…looks like we’re in the same boat. Too bad my boat consists of his precious baby girl.

  “Then what’s stopping you?” I ask. Maybe his answer will help me figure out why I stopped myself from fucking his sweet little daughter.

  “Stopping me from what?”

  “Fucking her? What’s stopping you? Is she willing?” Like your daughter? Fuck, I need to stop.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why? Afraid she won’t like your taste in sex? They all submit sooner or later. Some don’t know what they want until you introduce them to it. Young and eager? Sounds like the jackpot to me.” If he only knew who I was describing. It makes me want to go to her. Bend and break her. The mental image alone stirs awake the sadist inside me. It’s a good thing she’s at school, putting distance between my beast and her beauty.

  “No. I mean, I can’t. Not only is she way too young, but she’s also Hazel’s roommate. That’s just all-around fucked up. I’m not a fucking asshole.”

  My hands wipe down my face at his reply. Fuck. What does that make me? I don’t wait for my drink to come. I tell him to fuck the girl or get a private room because he’s becoming intolerable, then get up and head to the elevator. My finger jabs roughly at the button for the lower level, and my jaw ticks as the doors open. I storm into a private room, needing to release all this pent-up aggression. Ever since I started this game with Hazel, I feel like I’m the one who’s losing. I come into these rooms and use my whip to blow off steam, but then I make them leave. I have yet to touch another woman since I’ve touched her.

  Tonight, I’m changing that. I’m the one in control here. Not her. I pick up the phone and let the girl on the other line know exactly what I want—young, blonde, submissive. I undress while I wait, pacing the room, picking out the exact toys I fancy for the evening. A soft knock sounds on the door, and I instruct her to enter.

  I keep my back to her as I order her to undress and face the wall. She’s quiet and obedient, just as I demanded. When I turn toward her, she’s doing precisely as I instructed. “Kneel.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  That’s right. How it should be. A compliant little mouse. I inhale deeply, feeling a bit more like myself, and pick up a feather whip. The softness of the winged straps drag along her bare shoulders, and I watch and wait for her skin to shiver as my little bird�
��s did. Stop. I throw the feathered whip and replace it with a leather one. I rear back and slash one lick across her back. The woman doesn’t react.

  “Tell me, how many licks will it take for you to beg me to stop?”

  “As many as you wish, Master.” Usually, I would enjoy how submissive she is. How she would let me tear up her back as long as it pleased me. But her answer only further frustrates me. Because in the back of my head, all I hear is her. Do your worst. I whip her again. And again. But nothing. There’s no relief. Suddenly, I’m taking in her backside. None of it is comparable. I grab at her hair and pull her head back to get a look at her. This woman doesn’t hold power over me like she does.

  “Out.” She doesn’t move fast enough. “OUT!” I yell, and she hurries out of the room, forgoing her clothes.

  I tell myself not to do it. To stay away. But I’ve proven myself to be a bad man. Nothing will stand in my way from what I want. No matter what I have to lose to get it. I find my phone and dial her number. It’s late, but I couldn’t give a shit. It rings too many times. I expect it to go to voicemail when the line connects, music blaring in my ear.

  “Hello?” Her voice is off. She’s drunk. Which only angers me more.

  “Why are you out so late?” I ask like I’m her goddamn father.

  “Why are you calling me so late?” she retorts. That smart little mouth is going to cost her. I swipe my hand down my face, searching for my control.

  “Because I’m checking in to see where my little cunt is.”

  She inhales sharply. “What did you just call me?”

  Jesus. “You belong to me. Which means that cunt of yours is mine. And I want it home.”

  “Gabriel, you can’t own a cunt. It’s, like, impossible.” She starts to giggle. “And I’m having fun, so no, I’m not going home.” She hiccups, further infuriating me.

  “Hazel, get the fuck home. Now. Call me when you’re alone. You owe me something.”

  Her mouth is too close to the phone, and her words come out muffled. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?” If I were there, I would spank her until she couldn’t sit for a week.

  “Hazel, who are you talking to? Babe, let’s get in the pool.” I hear a guy’s voice. He’s too close. Sounds too clear. I’ll fucking slay any motherfucker who touches her.

  “Oh, uh, no one. It’s my dad. Right, Daddy? You were going to tell me what happens if I disobey?” I see red. Another loud squeal echoes through the phone, along with a splash and tons of laughter. I faintly hear Hazel’s voice. “Oh my God, I fell in the pool!” Followed by a round of drunk laughter.

  I hang up.

  And then take my fist to the wall.

  Hazel

  “Make it stop,” I groan, holding my head so my brain doesn’t fall out. God, I would pay a million dollars for someone to shut the blinds and block out the morning sun.

  “I wish I could.” Violet laughs at me while I lay in my bunkbed dying. My head is throbbing, and my entire body is sore.

  “Explain to me again how I ended up in the pool?”

  “Great question. One minute we were playing flippy cup, and the next you were in a conga line dancing around the pool. Evan was there. To be honest, I think one of the girls hitting on Evan may have pushed you. She didn’t look very happy that his attention was on you and not her.”

  Holy shit, I don’t even remember seeing Evan. I must have been a mess. “Did I make a fool out of myself?” Violet doesn’t answer, and I groan, smashing my face in my pillow. “Nooo… I did, didn’t I?”

  “I mean…he still tried to take you home. You’re welcome for me stepping in. I had to fight you out of his arms. Didn’t feel right letting you go. You were wasted, and he knew that. Didn’t sit well with me.”

  Just hearing her say that creeps me out. It takes me back to the first party where we met up, and he mauled me two seconds after saying hello. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “No problem. Oh…here’s your phone. Thankfully you dropped it just as you fell in the pool. Evan mentioned you had been talking to your dad?”

  I shoot upward, my sour stomach suddenly swooshing around. “What?” Tell me I didn’t get drunk and call my dad. No. No. No. She hands me my phone, and I unlock it and scroll through my recent calls. “Oh,…fuck.”

  “What, is that bad?”

  “Oh…um, no… it’s fine.” It’s not, though. I hop out of bed and grab my robe. “I’ll…uh, be right back.” Opening the door, I hurry out of our room to the stairwell. Once inside, I take a deep breath and hit the call button. It rings and goes to voicemail, and his deep, enticing voice sends chills down my spine. I quickly hang up.

  Think, Hazel. Think, think, think… What did he say? What did I say? I grab at my head, the memories not willing to resurface. Fuck! Why did I drink so much? Did he hear Evan in the background? Did I mention Evan? Fuck! I dial him back, and it goes straight to voicemail.

  This time, when it beeps, I leave a message. “Hey, uh…it’s me. I…uh…I’m sorry about last night. I was a little drunk. I… Just call me back.”

  I hang up but feel no relief. I tell myself it’s early in the day and that he’s probably busy with work. “I’ll just text him. Everyone has time to text.” I shoot off a message.

  Me: I know you’re probably busy. But please call me back when you get a chance.

  I add a bunch of heart emojis, then erase them, then add one back, then erase that. “Jesus, what am I doing? This isn’t high school.” I delete them all and press send. I stare at my phone as the message goes through. Three little dots pop up, and I hold my breath, waiting for his reply. The dots disappear. He read my message but didn’t reply.

  My heart starts to patter against my chest. I don’t remember anything that happened, but I know I messed up. I panic and call him back, only to leave another voicemail.

  “Hey, it’s me again. Listen, I’m sorry. I’m not sure what was said, but I swear, I didn’t do anything. I’m being good. Obeying your rules. Whatever those are. You can’t just tell me I belong to you and blow me off. I don’t even know what that means. Just call me.”

  I hang up, feeling even worse. Maybe he’s in a meeting, and he can’t reply. I take a deep breath and walk back to my room. Thankfully, Violet isn’t there. I grab my shower stuff, hoping a hot shower will make me feel better. It doesn’t. When I check my phone, there’s still nothing.

  Just when I thought he was going to accept me, I go and fuck it up. I could have acted like a complete fool.

  With each second, minute, and hour that passes, I become more anxious. A storm of what-ifs brews inside my head, and it becomes too painful to weather.

  I work out. I study. I clean our room twice over, and still, the silence is tearing at me. My mind keeps turning on me, the worst possible scenario floating in my head. Tears burn my eyes. “Shit. Don’t do this.” The sun starts to go down, and I realize I’ve spent the last hour pacing my room like a caged animal. When I can’t take the silent treatment any longer, I become desperate and call my dad.

  “Hey, baby girl. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Hi, Daddy. Nothing, just bored. Curious what you’re up to.” And possibly stalking your best friend.

  “Nothing exciting. Gabe, a lady friend of his, and I are headed out to a late dinner. Probably catch a drink, then home. You?”

  I don’t even hear his question. My ears are ringing. Lady friend. Lady friend. Lady friend. “Hazel, you still there?”

  “Um, yeah. Enjoy your night. I gotta go.” I hang up and squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back the tears. That bastard is playing around with me while he’s out getting his rocks off. He doesn’t even care about me or my feelings. I truly am just a toy to him. “Bastard!” I slam my fists on my desk.

  I know I’m not thinking clearly. Impulse takes the wheel and tells my logic to shut the hell up. Before I truly realize what I’m doing, I leave a note for Violet. I tell her that I’m sleeping at another dorm, and I’m on the highway headed home. The dri
ve is a blur until finally I’m pulling up to the private club and spot his car outside. Without thinking, I storm in, coming face to face with the same woman from before.

  “Excuse me, miss, you can’t—”

  “I’m here to see Gabriel Walker.”

  I attempt to walk past her, but just like before, she grabs my bicep, halting me. “And if he was expecting you, he would have notified me. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Shoving her arm off me, I debate tackling her. Or screaming bloody murder until I get his attention, wherever he might be. Before I do either, the gentleman from the first night approaches us.

  “Is there a problem, Clara?”

  “Damien, she’s—”

  “A guest of Gabriel’s. Yes. Can I escort you to a private room while Clara here retrieves him?” My chest expands in heavy pants, out and in. I’m unsure what I’m even doing here. The reality of where I’m standing and what I was about to do starts to settle in. “If you could just follow me.” I don’t say another word and walk with him through a private hallway. We take the elevator down, and when it opens, I come face to face with Gabriel. He stands at the exit, his top shirt button open and missing his suitcoat, but wearing a scowl that would scare off the devil himself.

  “Ah, just the man we are looking for. You seem to have lost your guest. I was bringing her to you.”

  His eyes glare with anger, and I take a step back.

  “It seems I have,” he says, his tone calm yet frightening. He reaches out and claims my arm. I debate on grabbing for Damien and begging him not to leave me with him. This was a mistake.

  “I shall see to it you have your privacy,” he ensures Gabriel, then reenters the elevator, allowing the doors to shut behind me.

  “Pet.” He says my nickname with such controlled fury. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this evening. Here. Again.”

  I almost recoil at his anger, but the reason I came gives me the courage to stand up and battle. I raise my hand and smack him across the face. The sound echoes down the hallway. If I thought his eyes were angry before, they’re practically on fire now.