by Sophie Night
Filthy Gorgeous Lies
Book 1
by Sophie Night
Filthy Gorgeous Lies: Book 1
Copyright © 2015 Sophie Night
All Rights Reserved
1st Electronic Edition
Cover Design: Sophie Night
Cover Art: stokkete | BigStockPhoto.com
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Interior icons: Svetlana Shirokova | Dreamstime.com
This is a work of fiction.
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Filthy Gorgeous Lies
I’m completely at his mercy, and I’ve never felt more alive…
I’ve always played by the rules. I’m the good girl, the responsible one. But when a mix up lands me in a stranger’s bed, I’m unexpectedly drawn into a world of domination, control and dark, erotic fantasies.
His name is Cole and he’s my every desire come to life–sexy and blue–eyed with a panty–melting accent that could seduce any woman.
From the first moment we met, our connection was intense and explosive. Cole pleasures me in ways I never thought possible. I crave his touch like a drug.
But he’s hiding something — a secret more twisted than I could have ever imagined. Now I have a choice — walk away from the only man who has ever made me feel alive or surrender to his darkest secrets.
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CHAPTER ONE
I’m seriously crazy.
Even as I scan the crowded bar for Michael’s face, I wonder what the hell I’m doing here. When he called me this morning, he’d said he was in New York for business and that he’d love to see me. Just hearing his voice after six months of silence had made my heart skip. After the way things ended between us in Michigan, I never thought I’d hear from him again.
I glance at my phone. It’s nine ten. He’s ten minutes late and there’s no message from him. He’s staying in the swanky hotel above the bar. Maybe I misunderstood and he wanted me to meet him in the lobby?
I’m debating whether or not I should text him when a man slides onto the stool next to me. I don’t look up from my phone, but I can smell his expensive cologne and I can feel his eyes on me.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
A British accent rolls off his tongue, smooth and sexy. Instinctively, I look up and into a pair of pale blue eyes. For a minute, the air is caught in my throat and I can’t breathe. He’s gorgeous — at least six feet tall with dark, wavy hair and a strong, angular jaw. But it’s his eyes I’m drawn to. They’re so pale, they almost look colorless against his dark features.
His gaze slowly rakes up my body and settles on my breasts, which are practically falling out of my dress. This was the sexiest dress I owned and I’d chosen it to tempt Michael. I want to tease him, make him want me. But what I really want is a good fuck. It’s been too long — six months, to be exact — and my body is hungry for it. But not so hungry I’d take a stranger to bed.
I place my phone on the bar and smile. “I am, actually. He’s late.”
The handsome stranger signals to the bartender, orders a scotch and another of whatever I’m having — an apple martini. It’s my favorite drink, and the only thing I order when I’m at places like this.
When the bartender returns with our drinks, I take a sip. The tartness makes my lips pucker, and he laughs.
“What’s your name?”
“Lexi,” I say.
“Cole,” he offers back.
He leans back with an air of self–confidence that few men posses. Finger tracing the rim of his glass, he watches me. “You’re waiting for your ex.”
It’s not a question or a judgement. It’s an observation and his accuracy startles me. I try to play it cool. “Maybe I’m waiting for a blind date,” I say.
“I’m guessing you’re a nice girl. And nice girls don’t wear dresses like that unless they’re hungry for a good fucking.” I suck in a sharp breath, shocked by his crude words. He smiles. “And you don’t look like the type that fucks on a first date.”
I arch a brow, annoyed a complete stranger would presume to know anything about me. “You seem awfully confident about that.”
Reaching out, he touches his finger to my necklace, just above my collarbone. It’s a double strand of pearls interspersed with pale pink and green gemstones.
“Pink pearls.” He smiles to himself and drops his hand. “Expensive. More than someone in their early twenties can usually afford. I’d wager they’re a gift from your mum.”
Actually, they were, but I wasn’t going to admit that. I didn’t want to feed his cockiness. “What does my pearl necklace have to do with my unwillingness to fuck on the first date?”
“It speaks to your innocence,” he says simply. “Your purity. Your vulnerability.”
There’s something in his eyes — a dark hunger that sends tingles down my spine. My nipples tighten and heat spirals through my veins. I try to push the feelings away, but they won’t budge. This man does something to me — something I can’t quite explain. Even to myself.
My phone vibrates, breaking the spell. I glance down as the screen lights up. It’s a text from Michael.
Sorry, babe. Flight was delayed. Just landed at JFK.
Disappointment washes over me. Damn. By the time he gets here, it’ll be late. Way late. And I’m opening at the coffee shop tomorrow. As much as I’d love to blow it off, scrubbing tables and schlepping overpriced coffee is what pays the bills. Even if it’s just barely.
I text back.
Rain check for tomorrow?
He replies immediately.
You got it, babe. I’ll call you.
I sigh and stuff my phone into my tiny, wallet–sized clutch.
“Everything okay?”
I look up into those blue eyes and shrug. I should probably be irritated by his curiosity, but I actually think it’s kind of sweet. “His flight was delayed.”
He smiles faintly, as though he expected my answer — which is strange, but I immediately dismiss it. He doesn’t even know Michael, for God’s sake. Let alone whether or not his flight will be delayed.
Then, unexpectedly, Cole reaches up and traces his index finger along my jaw, and down my neck. I don’t stop him. I don’t even move. I can’t. My heart is beating so hard, I’m convinced it’ll hammer right out of my chest.
“So damn beautiful,” he murmurs. His voice is so low, I wonder if I misheard him. In fact, I’m sure I did. No one has ever called me beautiful. Not even Michael. I’ve been called cute, spunky, adorable, but never beautiful.
I swallow as his finger trails down my bare arm, sending tingles up my spine. I run my tongue along my bottom lip nervously. “I should go,” I say.
“I have a suite upstairs,” he offers. “Come up with me.”
God, yes. I want to be under this man so damn bad it hurts.
But he’s right. Deep down, I’m a good girl and I’ve never had a one–nig
ht stand. And as tempting as it is, I’m not about to start now. Especially not when things with Michael might be heating up again.
“You said it yourself — I’m not the type of girl who fucks on the first date.”
He smiles. “Ah, but this isn’t a date.”
Well, he totally has me there.
When I don’t say anything, he leans close and his warm breath brushes across my cheek. “Have you ever truly surrendered to a man, Lexi? Experienced the freedom of complete submission? I want show you how fucking good it feels to be bad. I want to tie you down, make you beg. I want to take you to the edge.”
The words are said with such dark, hungry desire that my nipples instantly harden. I should probably be horrified a stranger is talking to me this way, but I’m not. Not even close. My breasts feel heavy, and my core is wet, aching to be filled. I want him to fuck me and for a split second, I’m tempted to follow him up to his suite and let him.
“Hey sexy.” A woman in a tight, low–cut dress sidles up next to us and runs her hand along the back of Cole’s neck, twining her elegant fingers through his dark hair.
Silky blond curls spill down her bare shoulders, past her perky, rounded breasts. Every inch of her is waxed, plucked and sculpted to perfection. She’s my exact opposite in just about every way and I suddenly feel…inadequate.
She doesn’t even glance at me as she leans down and coos seductively in his ear, “I’ve missed you.”
Wait, what? Who the hell is this woman?
As her fingers gently stroke his hair, it becomes apparent that she’s someone he’s fucked. Someone he’s currently fucking by the looks of it.
He glances up at her and I decide I don’t want to find out. Whoever she is, she can have him. Fucking cheating bastard.
“Thanks for the drink,” I say as I hop off the stool and make a beeline for the exit.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing home so early?”
Nick, one of my roommates, is sitting on the couch in his pajama bottoms, watching TV when I walk in. I toss my keys onto the small table next to the door and immediately strip off my heels. I groan as I rub my sore feet. “The evening was a complete fail. Michael didn’t show up and I got hit on by a gorgeous asshole.”
He laughs, but doesn’t ask for details — probably because he’s a gorgeous asshole himself. Okay, not an asshole. Nick is actually pretty sweet. He’s got a smoking hot body and no shortage of women. Thank God, the sexy surfer type isn’t my thing or I’d be in trouble.
“Where’s Avery?” I ask.
Nick shrugs. “I don’t know. I think she had to work tonight.”
Damn. I wanted to talk to her about the Michael situation. In the six months since I’ve moved to New York, I’ve come to depend on Avery’s sage advice. She has an unflinching honesty I really need right now. I need the brutal, honest truth.
“Why, what’s up?” Nick asks.
I plop down on the couch next to him and sigh. “Michael’s flight was delayed. Do you think it was some sort of sign? Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me we aren’t meant to be together or something. That I shouldn’t even go down this path again.”
Nick pinches his brows in confusion. “Remind me who Michael is again.”
“My ex?” I say in a duh–you’re–an–idiot tone. I only mentioned his name about a zillion times after I moved here. He was my only topic of conversation for months.
“Oh, right. That Michael, yeah.” He nods thoughtfully. “I think it was just a delayed flight, Lex. You’re over thinking.”
Yeah, he’s probably right. I had the habit of over thinking every situation. Driving myself crazy in the process. Not to mention everyone around me. If only I could live as impulsively as Nick. But even as a kid — I’d had to be the rational one, the one who made sure mom got up in time for work. By the time I was ten, I was making dinner and getting myself off to school. Impulsiveness never even crossed my mind.
“You can’t waste your life worrying about shit that may never happen.”
“You’re right.”
Nick tugs me against him, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Just chill and watch some Andy Griffith with me. Everything will be okay, trust me.”
I rest my head against his chest and take a deep breath. “Thanks, Nick. I really hope you’re right.”
The next afternoon, I’m in the middle of frapping a mocha when my phone vibrates in my apron pocket. I dart into the backroom to answer my phone. It’s Michael.
I answer. “Hey.”
“Hey, honeybee. Sorry about last night. Can you come by the hotel tonight?”
The old, familiar endearment makes me smile. The first time he called me honeybee, we were on our third date. He’d taken me to the park for a romantic picnic lunch. Just as I’d sat down on the thin sheet he’d brought, I felt a sharp sting and I’d nearly jumped out of my skin. Twenty minutes later, I was so swollen that Michael had to take me to the emergency room — where we’d spent the rest of our date. Turns out, I’d been stung by a bee and was highly allergic. Go figure. Ever since, he’d called me honeybee.
“Sure, what time?”
“I have a late meeting, but I should be back at the hotel about nine. I’m in suite 1403.”
“Great.” I write the number down on a slip of paper. “See you then.”
With a smile, I shove my phone into my apron pocket and head back to the front area, humming all the way. Nick is right. Life is too short to worry about another heart–wrenching breakup that may never happen. For the first time in months, I allow myself to feel excited about seeing Michael again.
For the rest of my shift, my thoughts wander to what I’m going to wear and whether or not I should stop by my favorite lingerie shop on the way home.
“Yes, that one, definitely.” Avery is lying on my bed, flipping through one of my Marie Clare magazines. “You look hot.”
I stare at myself in the full–length mirror and wonder if the short red dress and plunging neckline is too much — even more so than the dress I’d worn last night. Nothing about this dress is subtle and I don’t want to look desperate. Desperate isn’t sexy. I want to look cool, confident and self–assured.
I twist to look at my ass in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too slutty?”
Avery steals one of the hair ties off my nightstand and twists her blond hair up into a messy bun. She’s the only person I know who can wear a messy bun and no–make–up and still look breathtaking. “Why are you even going out with this douche? Didn’t he cheat on you or something?” she asks.
I blow out a breath. “I don’t know that actually. Some girl called me to tell me she was screwing him, but he says she was just trying to break us up because he’d turned her down.” At the time, it was just too much for me to take in. I wasn’t sure whom to believe so I did the only thing I could. I ran away to New York.
“So, what’s this about?” She sweeps her hand up, then down again, indicating my dress. “Do you want him back or is it a revenge thing or what?”
I shrug as I grab my black heels from the bottom of my closet and slip them on. “A little bit of both, maybe.”
“Whatever.” I can hear the disapproval in her voice. She tosses the magazine aside and rises from the bed. “Just don’t get your heart broken again.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
CHAPTER TWO
By the time I hail a taxi and walk into the hotel lobby, it’s almost ten o’clock. My heels click on the polished marble floor as I approach the bank of elevators and press the up arrow. As I step into the elegant elevator car, I take in a deep breath.
This is it — the first time I’ll be seeing Michael in the six months since leaving Michigan and my heart feels like it will erupt out of my chest. Despite my best efforts, I was never quite able to evict him from my head…or my heart.
The hallway of the tenth floor is empty as I make my way to suite 1403. I lift my hand to knock, but the door is already opened a
crack, so I slip into the darkened room. There’s a lamp on in the corner of the living area, casting the room in a pale amber glow — just enough light to see by. I make my way to the bedroom, and see a dark figure lying in the massive bed.
Michael.
I pause and wonder if I should tiptoe my way out, leaving him to sleep. He’s been working long hours and I should let him rest, but when will he be back in New York? Next year, maybe?
Approaching the bed, I stare at him for a minute, a knot of anxiety balled in my stomach. What if I try to kiss him and he pulls away? What if I totally misread his reasons for wanting to see me? I don’t think I could take the rejection from him. It would be too humiliating.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I force those thoughts away. This is my chance to see if Michael and if anything about our failed relationship is salvageable, I’m going to take it — even if it ends up emotionally scarring me in the end.
Kicking off my heels, I slither out of my dress — until I’m wearing only my lacy bra and panties — and slide beneath the thick covers. His warm body beckons me and I trail my hand across his hard, muscular torso. He’s more toned than I remember, his six–pack more defined. He must be working out. It’s sexy as hell and I moan in approval.
Sliding my hand lower, I find the waistband of his pajama bottoms and slip my hand beneath the elastic. He’s already hard. I take his thick cock into my palm and whisper in his ear, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
He’s awake in seconds. With a low, predatory growl, he flips me over, onto my back and presses his erection against my core. He wants me just as much as I want him, and the realization is heady. His lips are on me, all over me, licking and nipping all the way down my neck to my chest. Roughly, he pulls my bra down, exposing my breasts. His hot mouth latches onto my nipple and I almost come right there.
Holy fuck, his mouth feels so good.
Dipping his hand beneath my panties, he finds my wet core, and slowly slides one finger into me. I suck in a breath as my fingernails rake up his back. The sensation of him filling me is exquisite. I want more. I want his cock inside me.
