Sex, Lies & Lace (Sex and Lies Book 4)

by Kris Calvert

  “Just let me know, okay?” He smiled and shut the door behind him to give me privacy.

  I stared at the back of the white door for only a moment before turning to look at myself in the mirror. My face was swollen from the crying and my once perfect make-up nonexistent. I reached behind my back and unzipped the black dress to my waist, allowing it to drop to the floor. Wearing the black lacy bra and matching black thong, the sales girl had practically forced me into buying, I stared at myself. I looked as if I’d lost weight and muscle mass. It was the stress.

  I started the water and unwrapped the toothbrush, opening the top drawer on the left where King said I would find everything. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he wasn’t kidding. There were three kinds of toothpaste, mouthwash, dental floss, creams, soaps, lotions, tampons and brand new hairbrushes. I was most surprised when I opened the bottom drawer. Inside was a pair of white lace thong panties. Pulling them out as if I was touching something contaminated, I held them by the corners in front of my face to get a closer look.

  On the top left was an embroidered crown—just like the one on his handkerchief—the side of the hot air balloon tonight—like the one drawn on the panties found in Tina Joseph’s mouth. I folded them neatly and put them back in the drawer, slathered toothpaste on my toothbrush and rushed to finish up in the bathroom. I washed my face with some fancy French face wash that made my skin feel like silk and used a tiny bit of body lotion before unhooking my bra and slipping my arms through the huge pajama top. Almost to my knees, I realized just how big King was.

  Taking the tag off the new hairbrush, I ran it through my long hair, working out the tangles from the windy night we’d shared high above the Alabama countryside.

  I put everything back in its place and opened the panty drawer one more time to make sure I’d left them as I’d found them. I didn’t want King to think I’d been rummaging through everything just to brush my teeth.

  I folded my dress and bra, opened the door, and stood in the doorway.

  King sat on the edge of the bed like a nervous newlywed waiting for his bride—a virgin bride who had no plans of consummating the marriage.

  “Did you find everything okay?” He stood, and I noticed his shirt was unbuttoned a little farther down his chest, revealing smooth skin and a hint of his muscular pecs.

  I nodded. “Everything okay with you?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  He walked past me and into the bathroom before turning around and unbuttoning the last three buttons of his shirt. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower before I come to bed. Just make yourself comfortable. If you’re asleep when I get out, I’ll try not to wake you.”

  “Okay.” I watched him look to the ground, and just before he closed the door I caught him. “King?”

  “Yes?”

  “You seem nervous. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  Hands above his head, he leaned into the doorframe gripping the top. His torso flexed and I needed to catch my breath. I’d been around plenty of ripped men at the gym, but none of them interested me. Now, knowing what was in his heart and mind, I stared at King’s spectacular body and found myself fantasizing about what he might look like without the pajama pants I’d left for him by the sink.

  “I feel as if I should be asking you that, and not the other way around.”

  I shook my head. “No, you’ve been more than a gentleman to me tonight. You’ve been a friend too.”

  King looked to the floor. “Reagan, I want to be supportive.” Dropping his arms he walked to me as he took off his shirt and tossed it in the corner. The steely look in his blue eyes made the butterflies in my stomach fly at top speed. “But I’m not going to lie to you, either.”

  Brushing a tendril from my face, he caressed my cheek with the back of his smooth fingers and a wave of pleasure flooded my body.

  “I find you fascinating and funny—you’re strong, smart and beautiful. But, I want to be clear. I don’t want to be just your friend.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. I wanted to look away, but his eyes and deep voice captivated me in a way I’d never experienced before. All I could do was stare. “I want more too. I just…”

  “What?” Bending to my eye level, King pushed my hair from my face.

  “I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know what to do.”

  He stood upright, placing his hands on my shoulders with care. “You don’t know what to do as in, you’re confused? Or you don’t know what to do as in you feel inexperienced?”

  “Both?”

  King gave me a half smile. “Is that an answer or a question?”

  I shook my head. “See?” I pulled away, sitting on the side of the bed in frustration. “This is why I can’t do this.”

  Standing in front of me was a barefoot man with the most beautiful body and mind I’d ever met. He’d taken me on a romantic date, held me while I cried and now was conducting a therapy session in his secret bedroom—a bedroom I knew he’d used for his own Tantric escapades. I hung my head in shame. I was a fighter, but I couldn’t fight if I didn’t know the rules.

  “Let me ask you just one question.”

  “Okay.” I pulled my eyes from the floor to his rugged face.

  “Do you want to try something? Not sex, but something?”

  I leaned back on my hands into the soft bed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, not sex. But something.”

  “I don’t know.”

  King took me by the shoulders asking me to stand. Sweeping my hair over my ear, he slipped his open palm into the collar of the sagging pajama top to caress my neck. The warmth of his strong hand radiated down my spine and I released my head, closing my eyes to feel it all the way to my toes.

  His lips caressed my jawline as he moved his way to my open and willing mouth. With a searching sweep of his tongue, King lingered on my lips, each delicate kiss more tender and erotic than the last. Feeding from the sweetness of his mouth, I let out an abandoned moan.

  Pulling away, he sat me on the bed—my face now squarely at the place I’d been stealing glances at all night. Taking my hands, he placed them one by one on the belt buckle of his black pants and left me there—alone.

  “You can stop anytime you’d like.” His deep voice hummed through my core. “Go slow. Enjoy it. I will.”

  I looked up to him. His relaxed state only made me more nervous and my hands began to tremble. He opened his mouth and I expected him to give me direction, to tell me what to do. Instead he whispered one word. “Please.”

  My pulse quickened and I bit down hard on my lip as I pulled the leather strap through the first loophole, unhooking the tip from the shining gold frame of the buckle.

  King let out a sigh at the sound and I continued, glancing up at him as he brushed my face with his soft fingers.

  Giving the leather an easy tug, the strap slipped from each pant loop, my heart skipping as it loosened with gentle ease. I dropped it to the floor. Looking to King, he gave me a single nod before lazily blinking his eyes and moving my open and empty hands to his taut stomach just above his waistband.

  His hard body was warm under my fingers and I instinctively stroked the tight, deep vee that lead to his manhood and felt my own body respond at the sound of his raspy growl. I swallowed hard, my emotions and newfound sexuality hung inside my tight throat as I moved my hands to the top of his pants.

  Releasing the hook and eye in one fluid motion, I could see the evidence of my handiwork begin to take shape inside King’s trousers and stared at the crotch of his pants.

  Only when he took my chin in his hand, silently asking me to look at him, could I break my gaze.

  The room was silent as I stared into the compassion in his blue eyes and he whispered, “Go on.”

  Using my right hand, I unzipped him as if I was defusing a deadly bomb knowing the outcome would be successful—careful but still confident. The teeth released one by one as I took my time bringing the sl
ider all the way to the bottom. I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from turning upward in approval as I watched King’s black pants fall deep on his hips revealing two things: the root of his impressive manhood and that he was naked under his pants.

  I audibly gasped and he looked at me as he pushed a single strand of hair behind my ear, allowing his hand to slip inside the oversized shirt. Fingering my collarbone before sliding the soft cotton over my shoulder he asked, “Do you want to stop?”

  The words caught in his throat and I swallowed the knot in my own, trying to steady my erratic breathing. I was nervous, excited and completely shaken, but I didn’t want to stop. I looked to his body and not his eyes, shaking my head, no.

  Finally relinquishing my gaze on the dark happy trail that led from his navel to all that lay below, I looked into his eyes. King gave me a sly smile and in a moment that seemed to last forever, calmly placed my hands on his bare hips—my fingers perched at the very edge of my new awakening. “Then don’t stop.”

  His skin was warm and smooth beneath my fingertips. His bare chest heaved and the tension in his muscles flinched with each movement of my hand. A longing I’d never experienced before undulated through my tense core like a wave bringing the tide onto shore. Pushing the fabric over his hips, the black silk pants fell to the floor and I stared at King. Naked. Tight. Swollen.

  Mesmerized by his perfect body and manhood, my gaze was fixed upon him. Surprisingly uninhibited, I found myself unashamed that I was staring.

  “You can touch.”

  His voice was soft and inviting, and I felt safe, aroused and curious. Lifting my hand, I watched my fingers quiver in anticipation as I inched my way toward him. Starting at the head, I brushed my fingers across his shaft until I reached his stomach.

  King let out a groan and I felt in control. Like Zeus on top of Olympus, I ruled my feelings and his pleasure.

  “Reagan.”

  Suddenly my name seemed as if it had new meaning—like it belonged to someone else. I ignored him, caught up in my own world. Using both hands the second time, I ran my cool fingers along each side of the sinewy length of him taking the time to feel every vessel coursing with blood. Gliding my hands to the base of his shaft, I stroked my fingers across his dark hair. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

  Letting out another sigh of longing, I stroked my hands down each of his muscular thighs and watched his skin tense into chill bumps as his manhood bobbed under its own throbbing weight.

  And then he said my name.

  “Reagan.”

  “Yes,” I said staring at his growing arousal.

  “Regan, look at me.”

  I gazed up at him and let out a sigh.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded.

  King pulled me to my feet, placing my limp arms around his neck one by one. I stood on my toes and pressed my body into his hardness and took a deep breath.

  Kissing my lips sweetly, he walked me backwards and into the bed. Joining me under the sheets, King covered us both up.

  Wrapping his arm around me, I cuddled into him, my heart still pounding, my body clenching with each breath I took. I placed my open palm on his chest and gazed up at him.

  “Is…that…you know…”

  “Is that what?” he asked pressing his lips into my forehead, allowing them to linger on my skin.

  “Is that…it?”

  I dragged my leg over his solid, naked body, his erection hard under my thigh, and felt his hand move down my back to caress my bottom. Moving into his hip, I couldn’t get close enough to him.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  I sighed and tried to close my eyes. I’d just experienced the most erotic moment of my life and I wasn’t afraid. I felt safe. I felt love. I felt loved.

  “That’s it for tonight.”

  14

  KING

  I awoke at four in the morning, Reagan sleeping like a baby at my side. Unwinding my body from hers, I climbed out of the bed and stood over her, replaying the previous evening in my head. She was very much like me—tough, smart and blinded by her own fears. After last night, I knew she was completely capable of enjoying herself—of allowing herself to let go and open up. Reagan Weatherford was weary of giving me the keys to her secret garden, but I knew in time she would—I only hoped I would open up and reciprocate.

  Without making a sound, I walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower. I had an hour before I needed leave for the private airfield. The Gulfstream 650 would be waiting for me and I’d be in Bangalore in fifteen hours. I needed to be in and out in less than five and on my way to Washington D.C. without delay for my meeting and cover.

  I stepped into the steam shower, soaped my body and trimmed my tight beard. It was time to go to work and I needed to focus up.

  Out before I could relax into the water, I dried off and wrapped the towel around my neck, walking naked through the back hallway to my closet. Flipping on the light, I thought of Reagan’s reaction the night before. She was smart enough to know something was up but not brave enough to ask—not yet.

  Pulling on a pair of navy pinstriped pants, I zipped them halfway while I opened a drawer looking for socks. Slipping a white starched shirt from one of the many hangers on the top rack, I slid my arms in and buttoned quickly.

  Shoes and a belt later, I picked up the packed valise in the corner and knew there was only one thing left to do.

  I’d loaded my backpack and left it on the desk in my study, moving everything I needed from my safe room last night while Reagan brushed her teeth, knowing there was no way to access the room this morning without waking her.

  I sat my bag at the door and watched her sleep, her body lost in the huge pajama top. Her long blonde hair was splayed across the pillow as she slept face down, arms above her head. I sat on the edge of the bed and began to talk to her, not wanting to startle her from her slumber.

  “Reagan.” I said her name soft but clear and watched her stir. “Reagan.”

  She rolled onto her back, brushing the curls from her eyes and squinted, focusing on my face. “Good morning, Reagan.”

  “What time is it?”

  Her groggy voice was sweet and I found myself smiling at the sound of it “It’s early,” I said. “Really early. I have to catch a plane, but you are more than welcome to sleep in and leave whenever you’d like.”

  She pushed herself up in the bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I don’t want to stay if you’re leaving. I don’t have a way back to the hotel.”

  I held up a set of car keys. “Precisely why I own eight cars.”

  “Yes, but King,” she protested. “I can’t take your car, because I can’t return it. Where are you going anyway?”

  I brushed the curls from her shoulders and couldn’t contain my smile any longer. She was precious—elegant. A gorgeous soul and mind attached to a flawless body. No need for make-up, or fancy clothes, Reagan was grace without diligence—she was effortless beauty.

  “I’m going to Washington, D.C. I have a meeting with the FDA. “I’ll be back in a few days and I’d really like to see you again.”

  “You would?”

  Her charm was childlike at times, and her reluctant innocence was one of the things that drove my attraction to her.

  Throwing back the covers, she was out of bed with her feet on the floor before I knew what happened. “I’ll leave now too. Do you have time to drop me at the hotel?”

  I looked to the watch on my wrist and back to her. “Will you go now? Dressed like that?”

  “Do you have some sweatpants and a t-shirt I can borrow?”

  “Of course I do, but Reagan,” I began. “I’ve already locked up the back of the house and I need to be on time to catch my flight.”

  “Two secs,” she shouted as she rushed past me picking up her dress off the floor as she ran. I turned on a light and waited for her at the door with my valise. She rushed out as soon as I heard the toilet flush wearing the pajama tops
and bottoms, holding the waist as she ran so she wouldn’t lose the pants or trip over the cuffs.

  “Let’s roll,” she said rushing past me.

  We paused for a moment in the study for me to shut the door to my bedroom and I slung my backpack over my shoulders and pointed to her shoes, sweater and purse.

  She stuffed her bra and dress into her bag and turned to me with a grin. “Perfect. I’m ready.”

  I returned her smile. It was four-thirty in the morning and she was as chipper as could be at a moment’s notice.

  Shutting the door behind us, I followed her down the stairs and through the kitchen where the pasta and vegetables still sat on the countertop from my cooking expedition.

  “What a mess, King.”

  “It’s fine. Georgia will be in around eight. I’m sure I’ll get a phone call and a lecture about leaving her kitchen dirty.”

  I ushered Reagan through the mudroom and pressed the far left button to open the garage door for the Range Rover.

  Reagan hopped in the car as if we were responding to a call over the radio. She was awake and ready to go. I knew with my extra stop at the hotel on the edge of town and a proper goodbye, I would be at least four minutes behind—and I hated being late.

  We barreled down the lane to the gate, then slowed to wait for it to open.

  “So who’s Georgia?”

  “I was waiting for that one. Georgia is the woman who worked for my parents. She runs Rose Hill—runs the house. When my mom got sick, she helped to take care of her. When my dad got sick, she did the same. Now it’s just me.”

  “I see. And she’s going to be upset you left your kitchen a mess?”

  “No,” I said making the turn at the end of the lane. “She’s going to be upset I left her kitchen in a mess. She only allows me to mess up a couple of rooms and the kitchen isn’t one of them.”

  Reagan leaned over in her seat and began to cuff the pajama pants, turning them over and over until they were short enough.

  “But, it’s your house,” she said as she pulled the drawstrings on the pants as tightly as she could in order to hold up her makeshift outfit.