Empire of Lies

by Whitney G.

  “Lucky her.”

  “Maybe. She’ll have to let me know if that sentiment holds when we’re done.” His lips suddenly met mine and my back hit the wall. His hands fisted my hair, and my arms went around his neck.

  I didn’t want his lips to ever leave mine, didn’t want him to ever let go.

  He pushed the dress up to my waist, and I sucked in a breath as I felt his cock hardening against me. As I felt the thickness and the length of it.

  As he slid a finger between my thighs and touched my soaking wet slit, a hard knock came to the door.

  “Mr. Anderson!” It was a female’s voice, and she was knocking even harder now. “Mr. Anderson, are you in there?”

  “Yes…” He groaned as he kissed my neck.

  “Um, can you meet me downstairs in four minutes? A certain guest of ours wants to speak with you.”

  “Tell him I’m fucking busy.”

  “It’s Rio Warren sir,” she said. “He seems to think that you’re fine with him being here, and I’ve told him that he’s not.”

  “Jesus Christ…” He moved back. “I’ll be there. Get away from the goddamn door.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Looking into my eyes, he sighed, as he pulled my dress down over my thighs.

  “Give me five minutes to come back to you and finish what we started,” he said. He smoothed my dress before opening the door and letting me out. He led me back to my booth and poured me a glass of champagne before walking away.

  On edge, I downed the entire glass in one gulp. As I was leaning forward to pour another, the familiar sound of Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain” song came over the club’s speakers. Although it was over a much faster beat, her words were the same, and each syllable she sang cut deep.

  All of a sudden, I couldn’t focus on sitting in this club anymore. I was sitting next to my mother in the front seat of her truck—singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs, laughing as she said, “Even your terrible singing voice can’t ruin my new favorite song of all time, Meredith. I’ll be singing this one for the next fifty years…”

  Shaking away the memory, I grabbed my purse and left the booth before the tears could fall. I took the elevator down to the lobby and collected all of my things from the security check. I rushed outside, stopping when I saw the sea of slow moving cabs. The music was now gone, and I could breathe again. I could also go home and try to forget about fucking up this night.

  Stepping close to the curb, I held up my hand to hail a cab, but I felt someone pulling it down. A set of hands gently grabbed my waist from behind and spun me around.

  “So, this is going to be a pattern with you…” Michael said, smiling. “Running away from things you want?”

  “No, it’s—” I shook my head. “It’s a lot of things.”

  “Tell me the most important ones.”

  “Well, for one, what type of DJ plays Adele at a fucking party? Like what the hell is that?”

  He raised his eyebrow.

  “What type of best friend tries to talk you out of having sex after you’ve been in a dry spell for two years because she thinks that deep down you want more than that?”

  “Do you?”

  I didn’t answer that. “I just wanted to get fucked tonight. Really hard, really rough, and then really soft, too. I just wanted to feel something other than the feelings that are in my chest right now, and I was so close to getting it, and—” I stopped talking. I was baring my soul to a man I hardly knew. “Your club is beautiful,” I said instead. “It deserves all the praise it gets in the press and—”

  He pressed his fingers against my lips. Then he tilted my chin up with his fingertips.

  “The Four Seasons or The Waldorf Astoria?”

  “Four Seasons.”

  “Penthouse suite or sky suite?”

  “Penthouse.”

  He clasped my hand and led me into the alleyway that was next to his club. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, and the bright lights of his Jaguar flashed in the darkness.

  A gentleman, he opened the door for me and waited until my seatbelt was secure before walking to his side of the car.

  The drive to the hotel passed by in a hazy blur, and the next I thing I knew, Michael was leading me through the doors of the penthouse suite.

  He hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ hanger on the double doors and made sure they were locked. Pinning me to the spot with his gaze, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He took his time taking the things off completely—teasing me with his every move.

  When he was down to his dress shirt, he took his time unfastening every button, and I gasped once his chest was completely bare.

  His six-pack of abs led down to a beautifully carved “V,” but the grey and black tattoos that snaked around the sides of his torso took my fucking breath away.

  Without saying a word, he pulled me against his chest and kissed the fuck out of me, until my knees went weak under his sensuous assault.

  “Ah…” I moaned against his mouth when he finally allowed me a few seconds to breathe.

  Sliding his hand against the side of my dress, he grabbed the zipper and slowly pulled it down.

  Staring into his captivating eyes as he took his time, I held up my arms a bit. He smiled and pushed the dress down to the floor, the green fabric falling to floor in a silken pool.

  He unclasped the hooks of my strapless bra and let it fall next, then he kissed my forehead.

  I fumbled for his belt buckle, and he let out a low laugh. Pulling out a few condoms from his pocket, he waited for me to finish the job, running his fingers through my hair until I was finished.

  The moment his pants hit the floor, my jaw dropped as I caught sight of his cock.

  He claimed my mouth once more—making my knees weak all over again.

  Lifting me up, he carried me into the living room and pressed me against the windows—my ass pressed against the glass. Using his hips to pin me still, he put on the condom and slid into me all at once, giving me every inch of him.

  I cried out as he went deep, as he hit a spot no man had ever hit before.

  I gazed into his eyes as his fucked me, and he gazed right back.

  He fucked me senselessly. My entire body shook against the glass, and he held me still—pulling me onto his cock a few more times before finding his own release.

  He set me down and I shut my eyes, my body still shaking. I felt him picking me up and carrying me, and then setting me down on something soft, laying me across his lap as he ran his fingers through my hair.

  He trailed his palm against my back, using his fingers to trail the outlines of the tattoo that wound down my spine, the vine of black roses with thorns that bore small grey cursive with my initials.

  “You know that black roses signify death, right?” he said.

  “I’m well aware,” I said, sucking in a breath as he gently cupped my ass. “People kept sending them to me long after my mother passed, and I started to actually like them.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Do your tattoos have any meaning?”

  “Every single one.” He continued tracing the petals on my back.

  “Want to tell me what that meaning is?”

  “Same as yours,” he said. “Loss, pain, and regrets.”

  “Mine are for loss and strength.”

  “No…” He pressed a kiss on my left shoulder. “That’s what you tell the people who happen to see them. You’re still obsessed with keeping a bit of the truth for yourself.”

  I didn’t say a word. He was more than right, and I felt exposed.

  Kissing my back one more time, he rolled me over so I was facing him. Guilt was etched onto his face, or at least that’s what it looked like.

  “Is something wrong, Michael?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have fucked you…I shouldn’t have talked to you, or messaged you on fucking Tinder.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Exactly
what I said.” He shook his head. “I’ve fucked up, and I never fuck up…”

  “If you’re worried about me wanting more after tonight, you could just ignore me like all the other guys.”

  “That’s not what this is about,” he said. “It’s…” He didn’t finish that sentence. “I’m going to ruin you.”

  “Impossible.” I swallowed. “I’m already ruined.”

  He dipped his head low and sucked my right nipple into his mouth.

  He went down on me, bringing me to an orgasm twice. Tried to return the favor, and he let out a low laugh.

  Gently lifted me up and stood up.

  “You’re leaving now?” I asked.

  “No.” He reached for my hand. “I’m just getting started.”

  Meredith

  Before

  Several hours later…

  Sunlight streamed through the windows in the morning, beating my skin with their harsh, unwanted rays.

  I groaned as my eyes fluttered open, catching sight of the concrete jungle. Beyond exhausted, I slowly pushed the thick linens off my body and realized I wasn’t still bare-ass naked like I’d been all night. I was wrapped in a plush robe, my body still sore from hours prior.

  Soft music played from the speakers that were hidden in the ceiling, the rough refrain of Frank Sinatra’s “Under My Skin” sifted through the open hallways.

  On the nightstand to my left was a tall glass of water with two aspirin, a silver tray of assorted bagels, and a note from Michael.

  Meredith,

  I booked the room for the next few days, since you’ll probably need time to recover.

  You’re welcome.

  ~Michael

  I mentally replayed all of our conversations, all of the times he was inside of me and brought me to a climax. I’d never been handled that way, never felt so connected to another person, and I never wanted to let it go. At least, not right now.

  It was the best night I’d had in the past two years of my life, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it for a very long time; I also knew that I needed more of Michael. In any capacity.

  Even a small dose right now…

  Grabbing my phone, I dialed his number and hit call.

  “Yes?” he answered on the first ring, his voice deep.

  “Um, hi.” I lay back on the pillows. “It’s me. Meredith.”

  Silence stretched over the line for several seconds.

  “How the hell did you get this number, Meredith?”

  “You opened your phone and texted the concierge at some point last night…” I paused. “I have a photographic memory.”

  “How very interesting.” There was a smile in his voice. “Well, seeing as though I didn’t give this number to you, that means that I wasn’t interested in talking to you past our fucking.”

  “Or maybe you forgot to give it to me, and you were just in a rush on your way out.”

  “I can guarantee that wasn’t the case.”

  “Well, I don’t see why you wouldn’t. We had a good time and talked quite a bit in between all of the sex. And you definitely came.”

  “Not as many times as you.”

  I blushed, and his sexy laughter came over the line.

  “What’s the real reason you’re calling me, Meredith?”

  “I wanted you to know that I meant what I said last night about not being okay with only having casual sex with the next guy I dated.”

  “Hence, why I didn’t give you my number.”

  “You mentioned wanting something deeper, too,” I said. “You said you don’t really get to know people past the two or three-month mark, and you’d always wanted to know what that’s like. You said that we seemed to both fit that bill… Did I misinterpret your words?”

  Silence.

  “It was nice meeting you, Meredith,” he said. “You and I can’t go any further.

  “Is it because you’re married?” I wanted him to give me the truth. “Is that it?”

  “No, I’ve never been married.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “You’re just not into me?”

  “I’m very into you.” He paused. “But I can’t date you for reasons.”

  “Tell me the best one.”

  “Well for one, I’m way too old for you.”

  “What?” I laughed, damn near falling off the mattress. “You don’t look a day older than thirty. I just turned twenty-five.”

  “I’m thirty-nine.”

  What? “Oh …” I said, several seconds later.

  “Yes, oh.” He let out a low laugh. “Are we good to get off the phone and get on with our lives now?”

  “No.” The word slipped out before I could think it through. “I think we should have at least one more date.”

  “I don’t.” He ended the call without another word, and I scoffed at his rudeness.

  When I finally realized that he wasn’t joking and wasn’t calling me back, I forced myself to get out of the bed. I made my way to the oversized bathroom that showed off a perfect sky view of Central Park.

  Starting a bubble bath, I sighed as the suds slowly filled the tub.

  I untied my silk robe and felt the phone vibrating in the pocket. Hoping it was Michael coming to his senses about our undeniable chemistry, I quickly pulled it out.

  It wasn’t Michael. It was my dad.

  Dad: Happy New Year, Meredith! Hope your year is off to a great start. I’m filing the campaign suspension papers when I get back from Italy in a couple weeks, and I’d still love to see you and catch up. Hope you haven’t changed your mind about us... Love, Dad.

  Smiling, I assured him that I hadn’t, but before I could hit send on that message, a new email popped onto my screen.

  Subject: One more date…

  Since you asked so nicely, I’m willing to consider one more and only one more…

  Name the time and place.

  In the meantime, this is my email address.

  --Michael

  Subject: Re: One more date…

  I think you’ll end up begging for way more than one when we’re done…

  Next week. Somewhere in SoHo. (I’ll get back to you on that.)

  PS—Um…How’d you get my email address?

  --Meredith

  Subject: Re: Re: One more date…

  I can guarantee that I won’t.

  Let me know the time and place by tonight.

  PS--You’re not the only one with a photographic memory…

  --Michael

  Meredith

  Before

  Three weeks later…

  Me: Can I stop by Fahrenheit 900 this weekend? Maybe right before it opens?

  Michael: You can stop by whenever you want as long as you don’t bring your damn phone. (Why would you ever want to come before it opens?)

  Me: I’m never bringing my phone again. (That was me attempting to be discreet about wanting to have sex in your office … You know, since you clearly have no idea what romance is…)

  Michael: Good. I will put you out next time. (Yes, you can stop by Fahrenheit 900 so I can lay you back on my desk and eat your pussy, before bending you over the wood and filling you with my cock from behind. Discreet enough?)

  I blushed and started to type a new message. Over the past few weeks, he’d surpassed all of my wildest fantasies in bed, showed me just how many times I could come in a single night, and pushed my body to its ultimate limit. Our “one more date” had long turned into every other night, and each one ended with sex that stamped its way onto my memory.

  I still wanted more, though. More talking. More romance. More us.

  “Um, Meredith?” My father waved his hand in front of my face, interrupting my thoughts in the middle of brunch. “Meredith?”

  “Huh?” I blinked a few times. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, you’ve done nothing but blush and stare at your phone for the past twenty minutes, so I was wondering if it would be o
kay if we could talk for five minutes without it.”

  “I’m sorry.” I set my phone on the table. “I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

  “It’s okay.” He gently tapped my hand and signaled for a waitress. “New boyfriend?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I bit my lip before I could say something personal; We weren’t even halfway there yet. “We just really like each other.”

  “Hmmm. Well, hopefully one day you’ll be comfortable enough to let him meet me over dinner.”

  I nodded, saying nothing. I wasn’t getting my hopes up on rebuilding anything just yet. Even though my heart was ready to jump all in, he’d let me down too many times before.

  The moment the waitress took our orders and walked away, my father gently grabbed my hand atop the table and looked into my eyes.

  “Look, Meredith,” he said, “I am a terrible father, and I know that to my core. I was also quite terrible to your mother, and I wish there was a way to make things up with her, like I plan to make things up with you.” He looked more genuine than I’d ever known him to be. “I don’t want to take the time I have left with you for granted anymore, and I would like to meet up with you for once a week until…Until you feel like we don’t need weekly check-ins to be around each other. I really want to be a part of your life, and I want to show you I’m capable of being a good father. Please let me.”

  I blinked, unsure of what to say. I felt tears pricking my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

  “I’m also willing to file the cancellation paperwork for the campaign,” he said.

  “I thought you did that already…”

  “I did.” He smiled, squeezing my hand. “You have to go through five stages to file to run and fifteen stages to get out of it.”

  I laughed and squeezed his hand in return. “Okay. We can start over. How’s every Sunday?”

  “Perfect.” He let my hand go, and asked me about my day. Before I could answer, the hostess approached our table with a huge bouquet of flowers. It was three dozen white roses, with six black roses standing in their center.