Sweet Liar: Dirty Sweet #1

by Paige, Laurelin

  His son looked up and rolled his eyes. “For the seventy-billioneth time, you don’t need to. It’s two blocks. I walk this street alone all the time.”

  Dylan’s jaw tensed. “Well. We’re still negotiating the walking, I suppose.”

  “I see,” I said with a chuckle. It was the perfect opportunity to say goodbye, let them go on their way while I slipped upstairs to the apartment. I still had a key. I didn’t need to be let in.

  But I felt caught. Not like I’d been found out doing something I shouldn’t be—though, that too—but like caught in the moment. Engaged. Drawn in.

  I’d known Dylan was a father from pretty much the moment I met him. We’d talked about his son. I’d understood completely that he was a parent.

  But it was totally different actually seeing him in the role.

  It was the kind of thing that was hard to look away from. It felt private, but I was nosy. Like, I would see this man naked later today—if everything went as it should—and seeing him with his son seemed even more personal. Even more intimate.

  I wasn’t ready to walk away from it. I wanted to look a little longer. Watching the man I knew from my fantasies in his real life, as a father, was the sweetest thing I could imagine.

  “I’m glad to see you made it back safely from your adventure the other night,” I said, knowing I was walking a tightrope.

  “You told people about that?” He threw his head back with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, very much looking like his father.

  Dylan’s eyes widened, but he kept his composure. “Forgive me if stories about my son come up during small talk.”

  Again, Aaron rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal. We just went to see a show, is all.”

  Dylan hadn’t told me where Aaron had been. I hadn’t thought it was my place to pry. Now, I asked, “A Broadway show?”

  “Jacksepticeye and Markiplier had a meetup. They’re YouTubers. Like, they…” Aaron trailed off, as though trying to think of how to explain them.

  I helped him out. “I know who they are.”

  “You watch Jacksepticeye and Markiplier?” His eyes lit up for the first time since meeting him.

  “Oh, no. No,” I said too quickly. “I know who they are, but I don’t watch them.” I wasn’t about to admit that I’d been at many a party hosted by someone in the art department where everyone got high and watched video-game commentators and funny things pets did.

  Even not saying it, my cheeks went red. How immature was my life that I related so closely to Dylan’s son? Proof that he was a grown-up, and I was just a kid myself.

  “Anyway,” I said, regretting the conversation. “I hope it was a good time.”

  “It was amazing! Had to miss a day of my ski trip with Dad, and I’m stuck doing homework all the rest of tonight, but it’s not too bad.”

  Dylan’s expression softened. “If you get done early, we’ll play another game of Risk tonight.”

  My stomach dropped. “You’re...staying with Aaron when you walk him home?”

  He rushed to answer. “No. I’m going over later. His mother’s going out, and I didn’t want him to be alone.”

  I let out a small sigh of relief. He wasn’t canceling on me, then.

  “I’m alone all the time when she goes out. It’s not like I’m five.”

  Dylan didn’t respond to his son’s sass. “Ellen does go out a lot. She’s quite good at...entertaining.”

  Entertaining. There was so much weight in that one word. So much history and bitterness. I’d been right when I’d guessed that she was the one to poison him, but the wound ran both deeper and closer to the surface than I’d originally thought.

  “And you never entertain at all,” Aaron sputtered. “A happy middle between you would be nice.”

  Dylan smirked. “I do too entertain. Just not when you’re around. I have morals.”

  Aaron’s cheeks pinked as he realized what his dad meant. “I mean, you could go out on a date every once in a while. You’re never going to get married again if you don’t.”

  Dylan pulled his neck back in horror. “Whoever told you I’d want to get married again?”

  The disgust in his tone, the pure shock in his expression, it reminded me what the situation was between us. The reality wasn’t him as a father. The reality was him as a bachelor. He was jaded. He was a cynic. He was hard-hearted, and I was soft. So very soft, because somehow the truth that I’d known all along hit me with a heavy, cruel punch to the gut.

  I didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the conversation. I’m sure I was polite and present, then I excused myself at the next opportunity and scurried away to the elevator. As I waited for the doors to shut, I watched them continue outside, talking animatedly. Dylan never looked back once.

  I bit my lip and concentrated on taking deep even breaths until I was safely in the apartment, alone. Inside, I leaned against the back of the closed door and let out a slow, deep sigh. This was why I hadn’t told Sabrina about this thing with Dylan—because I really had thought I could change him. That this little speck of an affair might make him feel something again. Something warm and wonderful.

  Something warm and wonderful for me.

  Ugh, I was such a girl. Such a romantic, pathetic, stupid girl child. My head knew better. Why couldn’t my heart?

  For the first time since I’d suggested this whole arrangement to Dylan, I had second thoughts. I needed to back out. I couldn’t go through with this without becoming invested. He’d understand. If he didn’t, he’d at least pretend like he did. He was polite like that.

  And I’d learn what I liked the normal way—in a relationship with a guy who had feelings for me. The same kind of feelings I’d have for him.

  My sister would have already been out the door. I felt it, firm and hard and solid behind me. It would be so easy to turn around and walk back through it, and I would—just as soon as I was sure I wouldn’t start crying.

  I blinked back the threatening tears, took a sniffling breath in, and tried to pull myself together. If I didn’t, Dylan was going to return to find me a hot mess, and wouldn’t that be the most embarrassing moment of my life?

  I parked my suitcase where it was and headed further into the apartment to search for Kleenex or toilet paper. I couldn’t remember where the bathroom was, though, and once I was in the living room, the glass windows called to me with their dizzy, terrifying view. I approached them cautiously, drawn to them like a tugboat being pulled at sea. I couldn’t stop if I tried, even as I felt the thud thud of my heartbeat against my chest as I got closer. It was high up—so high—and looking down felt like being clutched in the fist of a giant, a fist that squeezed my torso until my lungs could no longer inflate.

  I closed my eyes and the panic didn’t ease, and still I felt like I was walking the edge. I was so far from it when all of this with Dylan started. I’d wanted a man who would indulge me with a no-strings sexual education. He was a man who didn’t believe in strings. It had been a perfect match. We’d been fated to meet.

  But I’d expected banging and dirty talk, sneaking away to meet up for something sordid and naughty. That wasn’t what this had turned out to be at all. This was heartfelt conversations and seeing a magnificent man trying his best with his son. This was human and sweet and real, and I’d be lying to myself to say it didn’t change everything.

  So here I was now. Walking the edge. Trying with all my might not to panic and look down. Knowing there was only one sure way to stay safe.

  Knowing if I didn’t turn and walk away, I’d fall.

  Eleven

  Dylan

  My heart pounded for long minutes after she left us in the lobby. My hands were sweaty, and I hadn’t even put on my gloves yet. The encounter had been unexpected, and I was free-falling in the aftermath.

  “She’s pretty,” Aaron admitted as we walked outside.

  “Is she?” As if I’d been fooling anyone. As if I hadn’t been simultaneously trying to tamp do
wn my erection while she’d made casual conversation with my teenage son.

  God, she was closer to his age than mine!

  Did that make me a sick man to want her as much as I did?

  Possibly. Probably. Definitely when I considered the kind of poison that I would be to a guileless innocent like she was, in her fashionably ripped jeans and pink-glossed lips. Colliding into her had been like crashing into sunshine. She made me feel warm in places that had been cold for oh, so long.

  What did that mean that I did for her? Did she absorb the pervasive chill from my bones? Did I leave her feeling bitter, bleak, and barren?

  What kind of person could take so freely from a light like her? I’d beat anyone who attempted to do the same to Aaron.

  I didn’t want to be that callous of a human. I refused to be.

  I stopped short on the pavement and turned to my son. “I’ve reconsidered. You can walk as long as you go straight home. No dallying.”

  Aaron beamed with gratitude then scooted on his way.

  And, with a sigh, I retreated back inside to do what must be done. If I was going to put a stop to this farce of a situation with Audrey, it was best to do it quick and fast. Best not to leave her waiting.

  She was at the window when I stepped in. I knew she’d heard me arrive. Her head had shifted toward the sound of my footsteps, though she didn’t completely turn to face me.

  That made this easier.

  “I think we need to reevaluate,” I began.

  But she spoke at the same time. “I didn’t mean to come so early. I…” She pivoted in my direction. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

  “You first,” I prodded, determined to remain the gentleman.

  “I...just…” She pushed a lock of hair back from her face. “I got here earlier than I meant to, for which I truly apologize. I didn’t think for a second I’d end up seeing you with your son.” Her tone of voice suggested her line of thinking matched mine.

  Why was that so disappointing?

  I cleared my throat. “It does put things into perspective, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded ever so carefully.

  “It’s best, I suppose, that we figured this out now.” I attempted a smile.

  “It is. Definitely best.” She couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’ll go.” She lifted her chin and started toward me, toward the door.

  Cold washed down the back of my neck. She couldn’t stay, but I didn’t want her to leave. “That’s not necessary, is it? Your train doesn’t depart for hours. Surely you could…”

  She could...what?

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said quietly, only a meter from me now.

  “No. I suppose not.” I could feel the heat radiating off her body. I wanted to bathe in her sun. I wanted to bask and burn, and when she went on her way, I’d settle back into the familiarity of the gloom. Was that so wrong?

  I took a step toward her, against every instinct in my body. “It was fun, though, wasn’t it? As brief as it was.”

  “It was. It really was.”

  Did she just inch closer? Likely wishful thinking on my part.

  “It was silly, too,” she said now, and this time she definitely moved nearer. Or I did. “Thinking I could learn anything in such a short amount of time.”

  “I’m still convinced you didn’t need to learn a single thing.” We were so close I could breathe her in now. She smelled fresh and crisp, an unusual combination of baby powder and apples. She smelled young. She smelled too young.

  “Maybe it was just an excuse to have a new experience.” She slid her tongue across her lower lip. Her gaze flicked from my eyes to my mouth.

  “A new experience,” I repeated.

  “An amazing new experience.” Her chin tilted upward. “An experience that would stay with me for a lifetime.”

  Someone shifted, both of us maybe, because she was in my arms suddenly, our mouths moving against each other with unbridled longing. Her hands worked eagerly at her coat, shirking it to the ground when she’d gotten it open.

  I ran my nose along the slope of her neck, down the line of the shoulder that peeked from her wide cowl neck, goosebumps peppering in the wake of my journey. All thought left me. I was consumed with only her—the scent of her, the taste of her. The reality of her. I no longer cared about our age difference or the ill effect I could have on her or that I was undeserving of even a small piece of her.

  I simply let the wind blow, and I let myself get carried away with it.

  Never breaking our kiss, I walked her to the back of the couch, then spun her around so she could brace herself there while I enjoyed the full of her body. My hands snaked around and found their way under her gray jumper. My fingers danced over her silky, supple skin. She was soft where I was hard, inside and out, and the need to feel her everywhere, with every part of me, was desperate and unyielding.

  “I feel very conflicted about these windows.” I tugged her pullover off then pinched her nipples through her bra, thrilling when she let out a delicious squeak. “I can’t decide if I need to shelter you, or if I should show you off.”

  “Do that!” Her voice was breathless and thin, as though she were on a razor’s edge the same way I was. “Show me off. Show me off!”

  I lowered my hands to undo the button of her jeans, then knelt as I pulled them down as far as they’d go before becoming trapped by her boots. “Show you off it is. Everyone can watch while I eat you out.”

  The sound she made this time—a high-pitched, need-filled yelp—made my cock expand to its full size. I scorned the ache of it, pressing brutally against the fly of my trousers.

  It distracted me, called for my attention, and the only thing I wanted to pay attention to at the moment was her, standing between me and the couch, her lace-covered ass at eye level. She’d curved her body just so, spread her legs just wide enough, that the crotch panel of her panties was front and center in my field of vision. The material clung to her shape, outlining the lips of her pussy.

  She shivered as I traced the path with a solid swipe of my tongue. She was wet, and even through the cotton lining, I could taste her. She tasted sweet like pineapple and musky like bourbon, and before I’d even had my lips on her flesh, I knew she was the most delicious thing I’d ever had my mouth on.

  Moving the panel aside, I tried to focus on doing some good with my lust. She’d wanted to be taught so I endeavored to show her what she liked.

  “Pay attention to what I do now,” I instructed her. I brushed my tongue vertically over the nub of her clit. “That was up and down.” I tilted my head and lapped horizontally. “That’s side to side. And this—” I flattened my tongue and drew small circles. “Is circular. Hopefully that helps you figure out what you enjoy.”

  “I’m not sure. All of them,” she said. “Just don’t stop.”

  I swallowed back a laugh. There was no way I was stopping now. Burying my face in her pussy, I went down on her in earnest. I stroked and teased. I went fast, and I went slow. I sucked and nibbled, and when her legs quivered and her knees buckled, I wrapped my hands around her thighs and renewed my vigor.

  She was easy to learn—her hips bucked when she wanted more, her muscles tensed when she was close. When I hit the right spot, she growled. When she was mad with desire and frustration, she begged.

  She bloody begged.

  “There, please, please right there,” she pled like a spoiled girl. “Make it good, right there. Please, don’t stop. Please, oh, please.”

  She was greedy, and I enjoyed gratifying her. Fucking delighted in it. Twice, I made her come. Once with only my mouth, the second time with my fingers plunging inside her as well. I could have spent all day with my face between her legs, with my tongue buried inside her cunt. If she hadn’t rode through her last orgasm crying for my cock, I might have stayed on my knees long after my lower limbs had gone to sleep.

  I stood, and she turned eagerly toward me, kissing me with urgency, as though she thought I migh
t end everything right there if she didn’t.

  If that was truly what she thought, she was incorrect about my ability to restrain myself. I was a beast without a leash. I had no will but to devour her.

  I lifted her into my arms, carrying her like a child to the bedroom.

  “You aren’t going to take me all the way in front of the windows? I think I’d like that,” she murmured as she kissed along my jaw.

  “I’m sure you would, you naughty thing. But I’m quite sure I would not.” My confliction had a line, it appeared. New York City did not deserve the pleasure of her naked form.

  I set her on the bed, still rumpled from the last night’s restless sleep, and tugged off first one boot, then the other. She watched me, rapt, as I followed with the removal of her jeans.

  “I like being undressed by you,” she said, when she was only in her bra and panties. “I like how you’re completely focused on me.”

  I couldn’t not be. It was impossible to look anywhere but at her. She was exquisite and engaging. Irresistible perfection.

  The wonder in her comment made me guess that no one had ever given her the attention she’d craved. What stupidity existed in her world? Boys pretending to be men, unsuitable and unworthy of such a gift as her.

  I wasn’t worthy either. I was a selfish vampire, feeding off her vibrant life. Even if I was damned to hell, I no longer cared.

  Grabbing her bra at the space between her breasts, I tugged her forward, urging her to her knees and kissed her. Devoured her, really. It was sloppy and bruising. I wanted her lips swollen and bee-stung. I wanted her cheeks flushed and her lungs filled with my breath.

  She crawled closer, her hands reaching for my belt, her mouth never breaking from mine. When she had my buckle and zip undone, she reached inside my trousers to stroke her hands up and down my bloated cock.

  She pulled back and flashed me a grin. “You’re big. I already know I like big.”

  “You’re not experienced enough to know big.” Shut up, my brain told my mouth. You like hearing it.

  “I’ve only slept with two guys,” she reminded me. “It doesn’t mean I’ve only seen two cocks. And this cock…” She pulled my pants down low enough to expose the rod of flesh, red and pulsing under her gaze. “This cock is a good cock.”