Lie to You

by J.C. Valentine

  Dropping the fork back onto the plate, I set the food aside. Flipping the blankets back, I pause at the sight of his hard cock standing at attention. It appears he’s not so mad after all.

  Dressed in the shirt he wore the day before, I pull it over my head and cast it to the floor. Slinging my leg over his hips, I give him a sultry look as I settle myself over him, nestling his hard length between us. Placing my hands on either side of his head, I lean forward, flattening my breasts to his chest.

  In this position, our faces are less than an inch apart, forcing us to make eye contact. “You’re being awfully quiet this morning. Cat got your tongue?”

  “I’m plotting all the ways I’m going to punish you when I get free.”

  “Who says I’ll free you?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

  “I do, unless you enjoy being pissed on.”

  Glancing down between us, I wonder... “Do you...?”

  “It’s morning. Of course, I have to take a piss. Did you actually think the wood was because you were flashing me your tits? Now let me out of these fucking ties before I get mad.”

  Hell, I thought he already was. It must be Rebel’s default setting.

  Thoroughly rebuffed but refusing to allow it to get to me, I consider my options. “How about this? I’ll let you go if you promise to let me feed you when you come back,” I propose, wondering if he’ll accept the offer.

  His black eyes switch back and forth between mine, assessing me in the way only a true businessman does. Once he’s weighed all his options, he gives one curt nod. “Deal.”

  Maintaining eye contact, I lean down and begin tracing his lips with my tongue, collecting all the sticky syrup. Hopefully, the gesture will soften him a little towards me, make him lose some of that attitude he’s throwing off so we can have a little more fun before we check out.

  “Mmm, you taste so sweet, Rebel. I wonder what other body parts taste good enough to eat.” His cock jumps between my legs, and I know I’ve got him.

  “You have all morning to find out,” he says, his voice a husky drawl.

  Diving in for a real kiss, I cover his mouth with mine as I reach up and pull at the knots on the ties. One at a time, they give way. Rebel drops one hand to my hip and slides the other into my hair to cup the back of my head. He holds me to him, his grip tight enough to bruise, and plunges his tongue into my mouth. Beneath me, his hips lift and retreat, rocking his erection against me. A moan escapes me when the tip of his cock grazes over my clit, my juices providing him an easy glide.

  Breaking the kiss, I drop my mouth down to trail wet kisses over his neck, swirling my tongue over his throbbing pulse. Like his drink of choice, Rebel tastes as incredible as he smells—rich, dark, and sensual. Inhaling deeply, I fall powerless to his spell, feeling wild and wanton, eager for more.

  “You like being in control?” Rebel rumbles in my ear. The hand he has on my hip slides down to cup my butt cheek, and squeezes.

  “Yes,” I say breathlessly, rocking my hips faster, increasing the friction between my legs.

  “Are you in control now?”

  “Yes.”

  In an instant, I’m on my back with Rebel above me, his body planted firmly between my spread legs. A rush of excitement tears through me. Instinctively, I hook my ankles around his back and reach up, intending to pull him down to me, but he stops me before I can touch him.

  Gathering both of my hands in one of his, he pins them over my head, pressing them into the pillow so hard I feel the beat of my pulse in my fingertips.

  “Wrong, pussycat. I’m in control here. You do what I say, when I say, how I say. Are we clear?”

  “Not entirely,” I say huskily as I lift my hips and shamelessly rub my body against his. “Make love to me, Rebel. Fast, slow, I don’t care how, just do it.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “You know that’s not my style, pussycat. If that’s what you’re looking for, then you need to leave this room now. Is that what you want? Do you want to leave?”

  He’s a damn tease. And he’s full of shit. What Rebel doesn’t understand is that he makes love to me every time we have sex. Just because his style is typically rough and dirty doesn’t change that. It’s what’s behind the sex that counts. He cares about me, or else we wouldn’t be here now.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him fiercely. Holding his gaze, I bear my teeth in a vicious snarl. “You want to fuck? Then let’s fuck.” Whatever gets him to give up the pretenses and get inside me, I’m willing to say and do. Being in his arms, at his mercy, makes me desperate for more.

  “Ah, pussycat,” he says, his tone chiding. “How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not the one calling the shots here?” Lowering his voice, he tells me, “If I want to fuck you, I will. So shut your dirty mouth and spread your legs.”

  Impossible man. Opening my legs as wide as they’ll go, I expect him to give me what I want despite all his big man talk. But he doesn’t.

  Instead, Rebel reaches beyond my field of vision. A moment later, his eyes return to mine and I glimpse a hint of laughter in them. Holding up the bottle of syrup that came with breakfast, he wiggles his brows playfully. “You like to play, pussycat? Let’s play.”

  A mixture of horror and anticipation wash over me as I watch him upend the bottle and the thick stream of golden brown syrup comes rushing out.

  It hits my chest with surprising weight and spreads out like branches on a tree, traveling in opposing directions between my breasts. Rivulets cascade over my collarbones and drip onto the sheets, pooling beneath my shoulders. More traces over my ribs and collects in my bellybutton. The syrup is warm and sticky against my skin, instantly uncomfortable. But Rebel quickly turns that sensation into something erotic and delicious.

  With one hand continuing to hold both of mine to the pillow, he lowers his head and begins lapping up the sweet nectar starting with my left shoulder. His full lips send tingles of awareness bursting between my open legs, and I turn my head to give him more space to work.

  His magic tongue circles my collarbone and then dips lower still, cleaning up the mess between both breasts. Even though the syrup never touched them, he pays close attention to my breasts, licking and sucking each nipple into his warm, wet mouth.

  My head presses back into the pillow, my back arching up as the pleasure grows more intense. “Rebel.” His name leaves my mouth on a gasp as he moves lower still, his lips and tongue working in tandem along my ribs, inciting goosebumps that prickle down my legs and across my chest, turning my nipples into tight, erect buds.

  Finally, he releases my hands in order to creep lower until his wide shoulders nestle between my legs. Picking up the syrup again, he dumps the last of its contents over my mound and then tosses it aside without a care.

  His scorching gaze is fixed between my legs as he traces my lips with a single finger. His touch is too light, too subtle, and my body is on fire. Lifting my hips, I silently beg him for more, but he’s not willing to give it.

  “Rebel, please...”

  “Who’s in charge, Josephine?”

  I don’t want to give in to him, but he knows exactly how to make me beg. I watch as he dips his head and flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue. The contact is intense and fleeting, and it leaves me panting for more.

  “I’m waiting for my answer, pussycat. Who’s the boss? You?”

  “No.” My head whips back and forth on the pillow, and my back arches off the bed.

  “Then who? My brother? That frat boy at your apartment?”

  “You,” I tell him, desperate for him to touch me and mean it. “You’re in charge.”

  A dark smile curls his lips and he rewards me with another flick of his tongue that acts as lightning to my senses. My mouth drops open and I throw my head back, a pained gasp bursting past my lips.

  “And who owns this pussy?” Rebel asks, tracing the syrup through my cleft and fingering my opening.

  “You do.” My hips swirl of their o
wn accord, trying to get closer, but he only continues to tease me.

  “Say that again. I didn’t quite hear you.”

  “You do!”

  “Say the words, Josephine. Say you own my pussy.”

  This is why Rebel always gets his way. He knows the right buttons to push, and he’s pushing all of mine. He’s using my need for sex, for the orgasm he’s going to give me, against me. And I don’t give a damn. Words are just words.

  “You own my pussy, Rebel. You own it,” I tell him through labored breaths.

  Instantly, his fingers fill me, stretching me open and plunging deep. I cry out, pleasure gripping me so hard the muscles in my legs lock up. He works them in and out as his mouth attacks my clit, sucking and licking up all the sticky syrup and bringing me to the edge of what I know will be an earth-shattering release.

  My fingernails dig into his scalp and my knees clamp down around his ears, but I don’t give a damn if I hurt him. Right now, the only thing I can focus on is the orgasm that’s barreling down on me like a freight train.

  This isn’t some rolling ocean wave this time. No, this is the kind of energy that rips through your body like an electric current, blowing fuses in my brain and short circuiting the motherboard. My entire body convulses, my mouth opening on a silent scream. The world grinds to a halt and for a second I forget to breathe, forget my name, what day it is. Euphoria descends on me and I swear I’ve touched heaven.

  Rebel rises up, staring down at me with a self-satisfied smirk. The entire lower half of his face glistens and I feel my cheeks heat. “Eating you wasn’t on the menu, but I’ll be damned if it’s not the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

  “Mmmm.” I smile softly, my head still foggy. “Imagine waking up to this every day.”

  He tilts his head and the look on his face is difficult to read. Finally, he slaps his hand against the outside of my thigh, shocking the hell out of me. “Time for a shower,” he declares as he climbs off the bed.

  Throwing my arm over my eyes, I moan my complaint. After that mind-melting orgasm, the only thing I want to do is sleep for a year.

  “Get up and get in this shower, Josephine,” Rebel calls from the bathroom. I moan again and the next time he speaks, Rebel’s voice is closer. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  Throwing my arm down, I peel my eyes open and I peer up at his imposing form. Standing in the doorway, he’s completely nude, every hard muscle on full display. A smile slides into place and I lift a careless brow in silent challenge—a challenge that Rebel wastes no time answering.

  Turns out I like the hard way.

  TWENTY-ONE

  We’re not going back to the Donnelly’s. Instead, Rebel announces that we’re going to spend the rest of the day alone together before flying back home in the morning. He’s taking me exploring, starting with a little mom and pop restaurant that serves old and new world Hungarian dishes.

  “This chicken is to die for,” I say, offering him a bite of perfectly seasoned meat. Rebel leans across the table and takes my fork into his mouth. My gaze fixes on those delicious lips as he chews, and I can’t help thinking about how he used them on me this morning. It gives me shivers and a sudden urge to repeat the act.

  “These fried pickles are the best in the state.” He picks one from the basket in front of him, dips it in ranch dressing, and offers it to me. I take his fingers into my mouth along with the pickle, and his eyes darken with desire. “Careful or I might decide to give you another tour of the men’s room.”

  I hum thoughtfully as I chew the warm, crisp pickle. He’s right. It’s the most delicious pickle I’ve ever tasted. Addressing his comment, I tell him, “I haven’t been to the bathroom in this one yet. I wonder if the wall is as cool and hard as the one at Mirage.” Winking flirtatiously, I ask, “Wanna go find out?”

  Rebel shakes his head, smiling to himself as he fishes another fried pickle slice from the basket. “I’ve created a monster.”

  “No refunds,” I warn him. “And if you even think of dropping me off in the country like a stray cat, I’ll have you know I have a very good sense of direction.”

  Rebel’s head cants to one side. “Did you just compare yourself to an animal?”

  Well, he certainly makes me feel like one sometimes. I’m flushed with heat just watching him eat. Shrugging the question off, I turn my attention back to my food.

  Once my plate is empty, I push it away and lean back, folding my hands in my lap. “So what are we doing today? Hiking? Bike riding through the park? Breaking in a few bathroom walls?”

  Wiping his mouth and fingers on a napkin, Rebel takes a drink of his water before answering. “I think we’ll save the walls of the hotel,” he says to my great disappointment. “I had something a little more exciting in mind.”

  Intrigued, I push my chair away from the table and stand. “Then what are we still sitting around here for? Check please!”

  ***

  “Rebel!”

  He slams into me from behind, jolting my entire body forward, and I laugh hysterically.

  “What are you complaining about? I thought you said not to hold back.” Rebel’s voice carries over the roar of the engine. He’s enjoying this a little too much. When I told him not to hold back, I didn’t think he’d take it so literally. If he keeps it up, I’m going to need the help of a chiropractor to straighten out my spine when we get home.

  Pressing my foot down on the pedal, I floor it, sending the go-kart racing down the track. The finish line is in sight, but Rebel is hot on my tail. He’s been playing so far, toying with me, allowing me to keep the lead. But I know him, and he’s not about to let me win just because I’m a girl, or his lover, or whatever.

  Rebel is all about the control, always in it to win, but today, so am I. He’s going to take this win over my dead body. At the rate things are going, it’s a definite possibility that’s how this day will end.

  With the checkered flag waving in the distance, Rebel gives up trying to readjust my spinal column and pulls up alongside me. Determination is etched in the lines on his face, and he gives me a wicked smile that says he thinks he’s got this in the bag.

  What he doesn’t realize is that I’ve been holding back. He might have been right this morning when he said he’d only given me a sense of control when he allowed me to tie him to the bed, but I’m definitely calling the shots now. He thinks he’s going to win? Anyone who’s seen me drive would know different. Annie would laugh in his smug face because the hard truth is, this is one instance that Rebel is going to come up short.

  I wait for my chance. As the finish line draws closer, Rebel gives me a two-finger salute and pulls ahead. He thinks he’s winning, and I let him feel that victory—let those good feelings soak in for a few more seconds—before I force the gas pedal all the way down. It’s only a couple extra miles per hour, but I shoot forward.

  Rebel jerks his head around when he catches sight of me pulling even with his kart. Showing all my teeth, I throw up a one-finger salute and then laugh maniacally as I push past him, crossing the finish line and taking the win with less than a second to spare.

  I admit that I’m a bad winner. Jumping from the kart, I throw my hands in the air and shake my hips, performing a victory dance that probably makes me look ridiculous.

  “You little shit!” Rebel shouts as we climb out of our karts.

  Handing my helmet off to the guy manning the track, I grin as I walk toward him with my arms outstretched. “What’s wrong, baby? Can’t handle losing to a girl?”

  Rebel isn’t the least bit pissed off, which is such a refreshing change from his usual brooding self—and, holy cow, what a turn on. This man has a fantastic smile. His feet eat up the pavement as he strides toward me. Idly, I think to myself that jeans were made with him in mind. His are light blue that are just tight enough to stick to everything. My tongue swipes across my bottom lip to check for drool.

  “You just bought yourself an ass whooping,”
he growls, closing the last few feet standing between us. Bending at the knees, he wraps his arms around my waist and jerks me off my feet.

  I throw my arms around his neck as he crushes me to his chest and grin down at him. “That’s not much of a threat, Scott. You’re going to have to do way better than that if you want me to pretend not to be so outrageously awesome.”

  “My, someone certainly thinks highly of themselves.” Although his smile remains in place, I see the seriousness filter into his eyes. “You don’t have to dumb anything down with me, Josephine. I like a woman who isn’t afraid of a challenge.”

  Suddenly, the moment morphs into more than just a playful exchange of words. Rebel is giving me a rare glimpse into what’s going on inside his head and I’d be just plain dumb not to listen up. He’s just told me that he likes me the way I am, which is beyond amazing. I can hardly process the thought, I’m so damn happy.

  Combing my fingers through his hair, I lean my head down to kiss him softly. “You’re my biggest challenge yet.”

  “Wouldn’t be much fun if I just let you catch me, now would it?” he teases.

  “Hey, isn’t the girl supposed to be the one saying that?”

  Returning me to my feet, Rebel slips his hand into mine and takes us back outside to the waiting cab without comment.

  I still can’t believe he paid the guy to wait for us. The fare has to be crazy expensive, but Rebel doesn’t even blink an eyelash as he tells the driver to take us to the next location.

  We spend the majority of the day driving around Maine, winding through neighborhoods with some of the most gorgeous houses I’ve ever laid eyes on. I point out all my favorite ones, which seems to amuse Rebel.

  We don’t talk much, but the quiet is comfortable. We’re simply enjoying being in each other’s space, sharing experiences. It’s the truest connection I’ve had with anyone since Annie and Brody came into my life. If for some reason Rebel and I don’t last, I know for certain that I will never look back on the time we’ve shared with regret. He’s an amazing man, and I feel lucky to have met him.