I turn to look at him, thankful for this moment of clarity. Once I calm my head and pinpoint those gorgeous blue eyes of his, I know that Liam Knight is about to become the catalyst I need to leave my old ways and JJ behind. Maybe fate threw me a bone by bringing this British dude to help me. He doesn’t need to know about my epiphany, but I’m about to use him. I should let him fuck me until I’m strong enough to leave Jeff. I’ve tried everything else, but I’ve never tried to be the person I always pretend to be. Being loyal and waiting hasn’t gotten me anywhere in life. All I’ve managed to do is invent a life and lie for the sake of everyone else while fading to nothing on the inside. Why shouldn’t I fuck someone else? I gave Jeff everything: my life, loyalty, and my love, but now I will do whatever I can to give myself to someone else.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask him.
He smirks and shakes his head. “Forgive me for being a wanker. I don’t know where this came from. We should stop, if you want. I truly have no bloody excuse. I…I simply got carried away with your fit bum so close to my knob and you smell perfect. I shouldn’t be in bed with Emily’s best mate. I don’t even know who that bloke is to you from last night. It’s just…you’re truly lovely, and I reckon it a bit odd but I fancy being close to you, and it may sound strange, but I want to be the one to help mend you. I just don’t know you very well. The only thing I’m certain of is how my chest hurts every time you cry and I don’t want a pretty girl like you to cry. I want to know that I can make you smile.”
I’m the one that moves his hair off his handsome face this time; it’s an unconscious act, but we both feel the intimacy of my gesture. We are a fucked-up pair, the two of us. When I tuck his blond lock behind his ear, he closes his eyes like a puppy getting attention from his owner. I suddenly have this pang in my chest, a feeling I can’t even explain. No fucking feelings, Sara. I just need to let this beautiful stranger fuck me and break the hold Jeff has had on me my whole adult life.
I’ve never summoned The Sara in a real-life situation; I’ve just lied about her countless times. However, I need her now and she needs to emerge. “Liam, could you and I fuck, please?” His eyes spring open and I can see him attempt to figure out if this is a trap or a joke. “Relax, there’s no catch. This will be just between us. You have nothing to worry about because no one will ever know. I need you to do this, it’s important to me.” I aim to be semi-businesslike with my proposition because I need a willing participant. He, however, doesn’t take me very seriously and starts cracking up. I mean, full-on laughing with his mouth open and all. Great, this is the first man besides Jeff that I truly want a sexual relationship with and he laughs at me. “I can be on my stomach or my side, you don’t have to see my face. I just need for us to do this.” I need this!
He stops laughing and shakes his head from side to side. “This Jeffery fucker did a real number on you! Why in bloody hell wouldn’t I want to see your beautiful face if we were to have sex?” he questions. I can’t tell if he’s mad or disgusted with me. “I’m not interested in banging a faceless girl or having you pretend I’m someone else. I’m lucid and you’re not plastered; therefore, I, Liam, want to fuck you, Sara, so help me God.”
“Is that the vow for fucking these days?” I ask with a smirk.
“Yes, my cock just wrote you a vow to make it official, isn’t that romantic?”
“No, it’s most definitely not romantic, but I’m not looking for romance and neither are you. It seems we both need to get laid for different reasons. I’m a realist and I’m cool with that.” I truly believe it.
“Well, I’m not! Yes, it would be fantastic to bang and I very much find you beautiful and sexy, but don’t you find it a bit odd that I’ve been intimate with your best mate? I find it a bit odd that you probably want to pretend that I’m this Jeffery bloke. I prefer women calling my name when I fuck them. Sorry, my ego can’t take you moaning out his name. Just bloody thinking about it made me go soft. Here, feel.” He takes my hand and places it on his semi-hard cock. He’s holding my hand over his jeans as I mold my fingers around his “knob” as he keeps referring to it.
This feels wrong on so many levels, and yet my fingers have no shame in helping themselves to a feel and are already working this man into a full straining hard on. I can see him fight to keep those clear blue eyes focused and open.
“Sara, please promise to not pretend I’m someone else when we do this.” He cups my face and I feel myself completely melting. He gets closer and says right into my mouth, “Don’t stop looking at me. I’m going to kiss you now and I just can’t chance you closing your eyes and imagining I’m him.”
“I promise I won’t. I need this with you, Liam. I hope you won’t fantasize that I’m Emily, either. We must only fuck each other and not ghosts. Deal?”
He nods as he brings his lips to mine for a kiss. I’ve never kissed anybody with my eyes open before, and it feels awkward at first being this close to someone, especially someone I just met. It’s weird, different, and so much more intimate than any kiss I’ve ever had. I still have my hand on his dick as I continue to massage him, and I can feel him grow harder with each stroke, which is doing crazy things to my insides. His hand is at the base of my neck as he slowly kisses my trembling lips and watches me intently. I try to pretend I’m not nervous as if I know what I’m doing, but I’m shitless and even my hands start to shake. I want to close my eyes and enjoy what he’s making me feel, but he’s right—if I close my eyes, I will be with Jeff and he will probably be with Emily. What we are to each other is a quick fix, a type of superficial physical diversion. In my professional opinion, we’re both in great need of some major therapy.
“In The Air Tonight” by Phil Collins
The sounds that come out of her mouth are fantastic making my balls twitch with excitement. She outright asked me to close the deal and “fuck” her, and I’m not sure who’s taking advantage of whom, but I don’t bloody care. Sara feels nice in my arms and against my body, and as dirty as it may seem, I swear she smells of sex and it’s driving me bonkers. I really am a sick fucker; I don’t have any bleeding clue as to how involved this bird is with that tosser from last night. I shouldn’t be kissing her, itching to touch every inch of her, or driving my cock into her, but fuck me if she doesn’t seem perfect. I haven’t touched anybody since meeting Emily. I don’t even reckon wanting to, up until this crazy brilliant moment. All I have to do is lower her shorts and bury myself between her long legs and it’ll be epic. She wants this, I want this, and there’s no other place my dick wants to be than inside of her cunt…
I keep replaying in my mind the way she says my name; it’s out of this world. When she fixed and tucked my hair behind my ear, I knew it was just a small gesture and yet it felt intimate and different with her. What would it be like to have a woman want me, take care of me in ways only a true lover could? How sweet would it be if she shouted my name over and over as I pound the sadness out of her? She makes me outrageously hard. I start to drown in my illusions of us fucking, but I could easily continue just kissing her all day. I mean, how long can this lust bubble last before it all disappears?
My conscience, which is buried somewhere deep beneath my lust, is explaining to my enthused knob that what this beautifully broken ballerina and I are doing means there will be no going back. I can’t touch Sara like this and hope to have a shot with Emily again. Am I banging Emily’s best mate to get Emily out of my system? Probably. Am I all over this poor girl as a way of sabotaging any chance I may have with the one girl I know I can’t have? No doubt. I need to stop thinking about Emily; she made her choice and it’s not me. She wants Louis, everybody wants Louis. Sara, she’s my choice and I need to be a good choice for her, right now. I want to be somebody’s bloody choice. Isa didn’t choose me, Brandy didn’t choose me, and Emily certainly didn’t choose me…I need to make sure Sara chooses me!
As I kiss her lips slowly, she almost stops stroking my rod and just watches me without b
linking. I see how every kiss affects her, it’s different—not bad different but nice different. People should only kiss with their eyes open, otherwise they’d miss this. I fancy how my kisses are making her smile and blush. She’s quite exquisite when she smiles. She needs to find a good fella that will only make her smile and often. I can’t help but mirror her giddiness as I try to get my fill of her by slowly and tentatively kissing those swollen lips. Her stupid bloke from last night, he did this. He made her question her worth. How could she think I wouldn’t want to see her lovely face as I fuck her? Does she not know that any man who gets to touch her should consider himself blessed? She’s beautiful and smart, why would she think someone would not fancy her? I just pray that her proposing we fuck is not just her way of pretending I’m him. I’m not interested in having my knob inside a woman and having her think I’m Louis, Jeffery, or Brad bloody Pitt.
I’m quite pleased we both know the score: all this naughty contact is a momentary pleasure outlet to help us carry on. In a way, I wish I could just close my eyes and enjoy her wicked hand massage and those sweet lips; however, I’m fully aware that I can’t trust either one of us to have our eyes closed and not go to where we long to be. She, too, fights the urge with her heavy eyelids. This level of intimacy, of observing her this closely, is taking all the air out of me. I’m getting aroused in an intriguingly different kind of way, and I can’t help but want more of her. She truly does tastes rather nice and I may just kiss her all day if she lets me; after all, I have nowhere else I need to be.
“What A Feeling” by Irene Cara
Every day brings something new and today brought me Liam fucking Knight. Out of all the people in the entire world, I end up with this man, who less than twenty-four hours ago I knew nothing about. He’s rattling my insides like only one other man ever has in my worthless life. I mean, he has to be as fucked up as I am to be kissing me in bed while trying to figure out a way to get my best friend to leave her loving husband for him. Deranged fool. Are we so different? I’ve been patiently waiting for fifteen years for Jeffery to do just that—choose me! At least Liam is fine with fucking other women while he waits for Emily. Look at me, I haven’t let a single penis-possessing human touch me in almost fifteen years, afraid it may mess with my grand scheme. I’ve been a loyal, stupid idiot to Jeff my whole life. I guess I could be classified as a monogamous whore. Sometimes, I honestly wish I really were the slut I’ve been imitating forever.
Kissing him feels natural. How did we end up in this predicament, anyway? I know he has zero chance with Emily, but in his mind, he probably does, which still makes it fucked up that I’m going to let him fuck me. I’m sure that somewhere in the back of his mind, he wishes I were her. He was intimate with my best friend; that alone should be enough of a reason to stop this. I don’t even know how far those two got and now I’m letting him kiss me. I love his lips, they’re spectacular lips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man with such perfect lips; these lips belong on a girl. His kisses feel like heaven and I don’t deserve heaven. This is why my life is shit; I allow myself to be put in impossible situations. He will just be another lie I’ll have to tell Emily to explain my fucked-up current affairs. It’s sad that the truth, in my case, is always too painful to say out loud. It’s a good thing I stick to lies; they hurt the people around me less.
I haven’t looked away from him or closed my eyes since we started kissing. I have no idea how long we’ve been sucking each other’s lips, but honestly, I don’t want it to stop. I’m aware of how selfish I’m acting, using him for pleasure while I should be trying to get rid of him for everybody’s sake. But the way he looks at me while cupping my face and licking into my mouth makes me feel okay for being a selfish bitch. He makes me feel naked and wanted, and I need that!
“I don’t want to stop kissing you, Sara,” he whispers between kisses.
“Then don’t,” I answer and feel my cheeks blush when he smiles back.
He fixes my hair and moves to whisper in my ear, “This would be much better for both of us if we got to know each other first. I’d like to know what I’m getting myself into with you, love.”
“You’d be getting into my pussy and perhaps my mouth and other warm, wet places if you’d stop talking,” I say with a mischievous smile, glad that The Sara got the memo that her attendance was required at the pathetic lonely club meeting atop the swankiest penthouse in all of Manhattan.
He pulls away after giving my lips another peck. “Oh, lovely, I didn’t know I’d be shagging a funny lawyer.” His face splits into a grin from ear to ear. The way his eyes catch the light from the window and glisten is exquisite. I need to stop looking in his eyes and come up with a plan. I push him away in jest and lie down on my back. My body hums with excitement as though electric currents zing through me, making everything tingle. I haven’t had these kinds of feelings in years; I almost feel like a teenager, not a thirty-year-old anything. If I had to describe this moment to Em, I’d say “What A Feeling” by Irene Cara.
“Do you also like to sing ‘80s songs and dance naked?” he asks, practically reading my mind until the second part of his question registers in my head. I feel a screech, halt, and stop from his words. Sara, you dumbass! This dude has been with Emily, my best friend. Emily, the one I’m supposed to be helping make this British ass go away, not make him stay and convince him to come inside me. My excitement is extinguished, my smile has died, and I’m back to the real Sara Klein, attorney at law.
I try to sit up as Liam lowers himself on top of me, sensing the mood change. “I’m sorry! Forgive me! I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I shouldn’t be bringing Emily up since she’s your mate. I assure you, I’m not an arse that just bangs everything he meets. I haven’t been with anybody since Emily.” He kisses the tip of my nose as he rolls off me and spreads out by my side. He takes my hand and laces his fingers with mine. “Maybe we should start over. What if we could have a go at meeting again like perfect strangers?”
“Do strangers lie in bed holding hands?” I ask, trying but failing to sound sarcastic; I’m just stating a fact.
“It’s our world, Sara. In this world, strangers actually meet in bed. Holding hands is a special kind of handshake. They kiss each other for a bit with their eyes wide open and they talk about what makes them sad, and then they touch each other for a bit longer and talk some more. If they fancy holding hands, kissing, talking, and touching, they sometimes proceed to the next stage of their courtship and make love.”
I like his level of delusion, it almost sounds made-up and pain free. It sounds easy, with very little expectations or broken promises. “Sorry, Liam, your world only exists in books. What happens when the real world catches up to our made-up world?” I ask him, not expecting an answer. I close my eyes and try to imagine a new world I desperately need to find for myself.
“We don’t let it. Only we can make it real and then nobody can take it away. It will be our world. We just have to want it badly enough and choose each other.” I look over at him and he’s also lying on his back with his eyes closed, no doubt wishing he were somewhere, anywhere but here with me. We’re still holding hands, and suddenly, as I look at our joined hands, I admit to myself that I do want to be a chosen part of someone’s world more than anything…but who and what will that new world cost me?
“To Be With You” by Mr. Big
I used to believe that tits and knobs could be mates, but nope, that is complete made-up dribble. If knob and tits fancy one another, even a tiny wee bit, they will find a way to play naked together. Yesterday, I made eye contact with an American girl at a pub, I later rescued her from a drunken wanker only to see that same bird in bed with a bloke I could bet my left nut was Louis Bruel. I am now in a different bed with that same American chick, offering companionship when all my cock and I really want is a chance to play naked. Like I always say, tits and knobs can’t be mates; they can try, they can pretend, but most of the time, they will find a way to play naked
.
I am well aware of the sort of arse I seem to be for wanting to be with her and mentioning Emily in the same breath. She actually needs me to calm my balls and be her pal. She requires a stag who only fancies being with her and no other. The way her eyes go from clear to cloudy is uncanny. I truly can’t stop looking at her, and just when I think I can see through those troubled, lonely eyes, she closes them. It did feel glorious when I made her smile for those few times. If only that world I just described actually existed, and Sara and I didn’t have loads of baggage between us. What if we could begin fresh? It would be ace to live in a world where your family stands by you and doesn’t forsake you, and your heart only fancies the things it’s allowed to keep. No ghosts or demons clouding our eyes…just this feeling of hope and warmth and of being wanted and chosen from amongst all others. I’d give anything to live in that kind of world.
As much as I long to kiss her all day and bang her all night, I know it’s not the square thing to do. I shouldn’t even put my tongue inside her without knowing what kind of pain her insides are filled with. I can’t become the cause of more hurt for this sad bird. We ought to have words, but not here. Suppose that tosser, Rossi, comes back to bang her again? I’m almost certain that he doesn’t frequent her bed during the day, but what if he does? I’d kill him. Enough! Why do I even care if he bloody touches her? This is about working Emily out of my system and hopefully convincing Sara I’m trustworthy enough to be able to meet up with her mate, which will help me move on with my fucking life. Therefore, I don’t have a right to care who touches her—she’s not mine, but brother do I hope she’s not Jeffery’s, either.
I close my eyes, too, as I lay beside her, holding her delicate hand and trying to think about the “real world,” my fucked-up worthless life, and how alone I truly am. Yesterday, all I wanted was a chance to talk to Emily, to perhaps touch her again, and now, suddenly, I fancy making her best mate, a sort I have no business knowing, a bird I only just met and who’s proving to be the perfect distraction, I suddenly have a need to make her smile. Fucked up is too light of a term to describe how confused I am. The only thing I know for certain is that if we leave our real worlds behind, perhaps one day we’ll have an opportunity to be happy.
Lies In Rewind Page 12
