The Lie (Kings of Linwood Academy Book 2)

by Callie Rose

  “Yeah, good fucking luck with that,” Dax mutters, his green eyes narrowing as he looks at me, as if he can actually see the gears continuing to turn in my head.

  They’re probably right about us needing a break. My brain feels like a hamster on a wheel that won’t stop spinning, and it’s fucking exhausting. But Dax has my number—I really don’t know how to stop thinking about it all.

  “I know.” River’s voice pulls my attention to him, and his lips tilt up in a pleased, amused sort of grin before he glances past me to Lincoln. “Do you have any cards?”

  My heart kicks in my chest.

  Oh, fuck yes.

  I haven’t gotten to play poker in weeks, and even though there’s been good reason for that, I miss it. Playing a good game always makes me feel better. And what the hell, if I’m off my game from all the damn stress, at least I’ll be playing with people I trust.

  Although I definitely won’t be betting any favors. Learned my lesson on that one, thanks.

  Linc’s slightly haggard expression lightens, and his lips tilt up slightly before he turns and strides out of the room. When he comes back, he’s got an unopened deck of cards and a nice set of poker chips. Just the sight of them is weirdly calming to me, and I wolf down the rest of my pizza in a hurry, suddenly hungry again and excited to start playing.

  Once we finish eating, we head downstairs to one of the rec rooms. It’s got a wide leather couch in front of a massive TV mounted along one wall, and in one of the opposite corners is a circular table perfect for poker. There are four chairs set up around it, and Linc goes to grab an extra one while I crack open the deck and start shuffling, letting the feel of the smooth, stiff cards between my fingers soothe me.

  When the fifth chair is in place, we all settle around the table, and River opens the case containing the chips. “What are we doing for buy-in?”

  “No buy-in.” Lincoln shakes his head. “I’m not taking Low’s money.”

  I shoot him a highly offended look, narrowing my eyes. But I kind of get it. It’s not like Mom and I couldn’t use the money if I win, and there’s a pretty good chance I could take these four boys to the cleaners. But as River taught me last time we played, that’s not a guarantee.

  And if they won my money, I know they’d all feel like shit about it. Mom and I don’t have a penny to spare.

  If we’re gonna play, I want to really play. I want to do my level best to kick their asses, and don’t want them to go easy on me just because I’m a fucking charity case right now.

  “Agreed,” I shoot back, holding Linc’s gaze as I shuffle. “But I’m not going all in with more favors. So what do we play for?”

  He thinks for a second, then shrugs.

  “Clothes.”

  “What?”

  My movement stutters, and the cards that were sliding so gracefully against each other get jammed up, a few of them tumbling from my grip.

  He picks one up from the table—the ace of hearts—and hands it back to me, a beautiful, predatory grin on his face.

  “You heard me, Low. Clothes. More specifically, the removal of them.”

  My cheeks flush as adrenaline, nerves, and arousal spike in equal measures, making my whole body feel electric and alive.

  God, I fucking missed this feeling.

  “Are you referring to what we commoners call ‘strip poker’?” I ask, arching a brow as I pluck the ace of hearts from his hand and smoothly incorporate it back into the deck with the other dropped cards.

  Dax chuckles, Chase snorts a laugh, and Linc’s grin broadens.

  “Yeah,” he says, pretending to consider it. “I do think that’s what it’s called.”

  I have a sudden vision of me, still fully clothed, surrounded by four completely naked boys as I whoop their asses at poker.

  Yes, please. I’ll take that.

  “All right.” I shoot him a challenging look, and his eyes heat. “You’re on.”

  River counts out chips while the five of us decide on the basic ground rules—namely, that everyone except the winner of each hand will have to remove one article of clothing each, that they get to chose which article of clothing it is, and that anything paired, like shoes or socks, counts as one item.

  “I’m starting with pants. Pants first, boxers second, just so you all know,” Chase declares, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs with a smirk.

  Dax throws a poker chip at him, and we all banter and talk shit as I deal.

  It’s actually been a really long time since I played poker like this, in a relaxed game where the stakes aren’t about money and it’s more just for the fun of the actual game. It’s been a long time since I played with friends.

  Or more than friends.

  I kick River’s foot under the table to get his attention, and when he turns to me, I quirk a grin at him. “Promise not to cheat?”

  He smiles back, running a hand through his ash-brown hair. “I won’t if you won’t.”

  I laugh. “Well… let’s just see how it goes.”

  My heart feels lighter than it has in a long time, happiness and excitement creeping in to fill the spaces that’ve been occupied by nothing but fear and worry for weeks.

  As we start to play, it feels like getting back on a bike. I’m not relearning the game, but I’m relearning the idiosyncrasies and tells of the four boys around me. We’ve only played together once before, but I learned their styles pretty well that night, and they haven’t changed drastically since then.

  Chase still plays too aggressively, betting more than he should and calling when he shouldn’t just to liven things up—or maybe he really is that eager to get his pants off.

  Dax is too easy to read, his poker face way too transparent to do him any good. When he has a bad hand, the whole fucking world knows it.

  Lincoln and River were the two who gave me a real run for my money last time, and I have a feeling that’ll be the case again tonight. I watch Linc’s face sink into impassivity as he holds his cards, although there’s a gleam in his amber eyes that makes me feel warm all over. And since River and I didn’t actually agree not to cheat, I keep an extra close eye on him.

  I win the first round. And Chase wasn’t kidding about the pants. He doesn’t even take off his fucking shoes first, just tugs his jeans off over them. He’s wearing a pair of dark blue boxers, and the muscles of his thighs flex as he sits back down, a languid smile on his face.

  The other guys all took off something easy, and while Chase was wrestling with his clothes, Lincoln pulled out a little plastic baggie from his back pocket and rolled a joint—he must’ve grabbed it when he went to get the cards and chips.

  We play our next hand as we pass the joint around, and the combination of the weed and the poker make me feel like I’m floating, happy and untouchable and in control of my goddamn life for once.

  Another round in, River and Dax are barefoot, Linc is shirtless, and Chase is down to just his boxers, shoes, and socks. He was bluffing about taking the boxers off second, and it was probably his best bluff of the night—the rest have been atrocious.

  Maybe River decides it’s unfair to let me keep all my clothes on, because he starts playing more aggressively. And whatever he’s doing to cheat—whatever he did last time too—I can’t quite figure it out. I’m counting cards, but River wins the hand, and the boys all grin widely at me as I make a show of deciding what to take off.

  I go with shoes because maybe I’m a little bit of a coward, but when River wins again, I decide I could use a little help turning things around. So I tug my shirt over my head, and the way the oxygen seems to go out of the room lets me know I have the boys’ attention. My bra is dark purple satin and lace, but you’d think it was made out of spun gold the way it draws their gazes.

  They’ve all seen me in less than this—Linc and River have seen me in way less—but there’s something about the slow reveal that makes me feel more exposed. And it sure as shit doesn’t help that the four of them are all d
own to their last few articles of clothing.

  We all get sloppier, our play less cutthroat, as our attention shifts away from the game itself and toward the anticipation of what will be taken off next.

  I win the next hand, and all four boys except River are down to just their underwear. He still has his shirt on, a long sleeved tee in a heather-gray, plus his boxer briefs.

  The next hand goes to Linc, and suddenly, Dax and Chase are naked.

  I’m sitting between them in the circle we formed around the table, and when my gaze darts toward them, my eyes tracking downward against my will, I see that they’re both a little hard.

  “Don’t let us distract you,” Dax murmurs teasingly, though his voice is rough. He jerks his chin toward the two kings of Linwood who each still have something on. “Kick their asses.”

  I try. I really do.

  But it is distracting as fuck having two solidly built, completely naked guys on either side of me. It doesn’t help that I can feel a flush creeping up my chest, warming my cheeks—a visible signal to everyone here that I’m affected by this. By the sight of them like this.

  River wins again, and my knees actually shake a little as I stand up, unbutton my jeans, and push them down my legs to kick them off. The room is so fucking quiet I can hear each of the boys breathing, and when I sit back down, I can feel wetness dampening my panties.

  The next hand feels like a blur, and I honestly don’t know if I let River win or if he beats me fair and square, but the next thing I know, Lincoln’s gaze catches mine from across the table, and we don’t look away from each other as he tugs off his boxer briefs and I slowly unhook my bra and slide it down my arms.

  My nipples are peaked, and my breasts feel full and swollen. It takes conscious effort not to let my chest heave as I try to suck in oxygen from an atmosphere that feels too thick.

  I still have on my panties. River has his boxer briefs.

  But that’s it.

  Nobody speaks as we play the next round, except for low murmurs of “call” and “raise”. And when we show our hands, a slight smile crosses River’s face, and he tugs his full bottom lip between his teeth.

  Then he reaches for the waistband of his boxer briefs, shifting his weight as he tugs them off.

  He tosses them to the floor, sky-gray gaze focused on me, and I realize the other three boys are watching me too.

  “You win, Low,” River murmurs softly. “You win.”

  23

  I win.

  The thin layer of silky material still clinging to my hips is the marker of my victory.

  It’s the last scrap of clothing anyone in this room is wearing.

  Nobody speaks for several long beats. Nobody even moves. The smoked joint and the banter—hell, the cards and chips themselves—are forgotten, like none of that really mattered at all. Like this is what we were building toward the whole time, and we all knew it but couldn’t admit it until this moment.

  Chase and Dax are fully hard now. The table obscures the other two boys, but from the way Lincoln’s eyes smolder and the way River’s deep breaths match my own, I’m sure the twins aren’t alone.

  My panties are wet, the ache in my core so demanding it makes me squirm in my seat, desperate for some relief.

  But I’m not quite sure what to do.

  If it was just me and one of them, I’d feel confident taking the lead—I’d know where this was going and how to navigate it. But it’s not just one of them, it’s all four of them, and even though I like that, crave it, I don’t know exactly what to do with it.

  I’m like a dog who finally catches the squirrel she’s been chasing and proceeds to freak the fuck out.

  Whatever was building between all of us in the pool—I want that back. I want to be connected to all of them somehow, even if I don’t know quite how to manage it.

  But I can at least make us even.

  I can show them what I want.

  Pushing my chair back slightly, I rise to my feet, watching the reactions of the four boys gathered around the table. Their gazes track me just like they did when I was in the pool, only this time, I’m not taking off a dress. What I’m taking off now is both a lot less and a lot more than that.

  Gathering my courage, letting the sweet ache in my body spur me on, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and push them down over my hips.

  There. Now we’re even.

  “Fuck,” Dax mutters, his voice even rougher than before. His hips shift the same way mine did earlier, as if he’s so turned on it’s almost physically painful.

  I don’t like to see him in pain, want to soothe the ache in both of us, so I step toward him, and the second I’m within reach, his arm bands around my waist, bringing me closer. I expect him to pull my head down for a kiss, but instead, his tongue darts out to lash my nipple, drawing a shocked gasp from me.

  He doesn’t stop though. His tongue flicks back and forth a few more times before his lips close around my breast, drawing it in with a deep pull. When his teeth bite down on the hard, sensitive peak, sensation explodes through me like a bomb going off.

  “God, Dax!”

  I grab his head with both hands, a moan falling from my lips.

  An answering noise from Chase draws my attention, and when I look over at him, he grins dazedly and shakes his head, like he wants me so much he can’t believe it hasn’t killed him yet.

  I want him too. I want to run my hands through his copper-blond hair, to taste his lips with my tongue.

  When I move away from Dax, the broad-shouldered boy releases me, his hand trailing down the curve of my spine as I go. Chase leans back a little in his chair as I approach, and when I reach him, he does what I expected his twin to, hooking the back of my neck and hauling me toward him for a toe-curling kiss.

  I almost lose my balance, and my hands go to his chest for stability, palms pressing against the hard, warm planes of muscle as my tongue moves against his.

  This time, more than one of the kings makes a noise, and I kiss Chase harder, letting my tongue tangle with his as his friends watch. I’m gaining confidence, losing my apprehension as every move I make is met with fierce approval from the four boys.

  When Chase and I finally break apart, I notice that he’s gripping the base of his cock hard in his free hand, squeezing the thick length like he’s trying to keep himself from coming right here and now. I don’t know why the sight turns me on so much, but the pulsing ache inside me builds until it’s hard to breathe.

  I glance up and see Lincoln watching me, raw lust and something like pride gleaming in his eyes. As if he likes seeing me like this.

  The sparks zapping through my body ignite a flame that threatens to burn me down, and I move around the table quickly, abandoning any pretense of a slow, sexy saunter in my rush to reach him.

  He tugs me down to sit sideways on his lap, and when he presses me close, I can feel his cock against my hip. One arm wraps around my waist while the other reaches up to massage my breast, pinching my nipple in the way he knows will make me unravel.

  Then he kisses me, and there’s dominance and claiming and liberation all wrapped up in the press of his lips against mine. When he breaks the kiss, his hand leaves my breast to thread through my hair, and his breath stirs the delicate strands as he puts his lips to my ear.

  “Have you fucked River, Low?” he whispers, so quietly I know the question is meant only for me.

  My pussy clenches around nothing, the fire inside me turning to an inferno as I shake my head.

  “Do you want to?”

  He pours the question into my ear, then pulls back to see my answer, to read the expression on my face as I process his words.

  Holy fuck.

  I don’t know if I can speak. I can barely coordinate the muscles needed to make my head nod.

  Yes. I want to.

  I’ve been wanting to, but something kept holding me back. I didn’t know what it was… but now I think maybe it was this.

&nbs
p; Without even knowing it, I was waiting for this moment.

  To share it with all of them.

  Lincoln’s grin is ravenous and almost feral, and he kisses me so hard we bruise each other’s lips before he releases me.

  When I look over, River is watching me with the same quiet intensity he always does. Like he’s so used to observing, to scrutinizing people closely to read their lips, that he sees and notices more than anyone else does. Like I couldn’t hide from him even if I wanted to.

  But I don’t want to.

  Lincoln helps me to my feet, and the tension in the room thickens again as I walk slowly toward River.

  I’ve seen him naked before, touched his bare skin, but this moment still feels monumentally different somehow. As I approach, he scoots his chair back from the table, giving me room—as if his keen gaze has let him anticipate exactly what I’m going to do.

  Acutely aware of three other sets of eyes watching us, I carefully straddle his lap, letting my knees come to rest on the chair on either side of him. These chairs are large and padded, fancy and comfortable like everything else in this house, and I’m grateful as fuck right now that he’s not sitting on a chintzy folding chair.

  His cock is sandwiched between us, and my pelvis brushes against it as I press my body closer to his. He hasn’t stopped watching me, and although his hands settled on my hips when I crawled into his lap, he’s letting me dictate every bit of this.

  When I dip my head and kiss him, he kisses me back, fingers digging harder into the flesh of my hips and ass. There are noises around us, low breaths and moans, and the sounds fill me up like fuel, urging me onward, telling me this is good.

  Better than good.

  Perfect.

  Arousal has been building inside me since almost before we started the game, and now it infuses every cell of my body. My clit rubs against the base of his cock as I roll my hips against him, and I’m so close to coming it’s making my body shake.

  But I don’t want to yet. Not until he’s inside me.