Tell Me a Truth: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Coralee June

  “How long have you been waiting?” I asked while running a hand through my wild hair. I was wearing my pajamas, though I debated on dressing up. Being around Decker made me feel giddy and flirtatious. I liked the way his eyes lingered on my body. I loved the way his words embraced my soul. Still, I stayed in the thin tank top and shorts. We’d never even been on a date. Would he be the type to enjoy getting dressed up for a nice dinner? Would he plan a casual night? I feared I’d never know.

  “Since dinner,” he replied without shame. I could feel the earth rotate beneath my feet and hear the secrets of the world whispered in static motion against my neck.

  I looked around the yard, noting the fireflies dancing in the distance. It looked like twinkling lights casting sparks of hope along the lawn. “Why did you want to see me, Decker?” I asked. I didn’t want to assume anything. Would this be just another conversation where we promised each other this would be nothing? Would this be just another argument about why we were wrong for one another?

  Decker’s response surprised me. “I wanted to see you. I wanted to be near you.”

  I took another step toward him. Questions were forming on the tip of my tongue. I realized then that I wanted to know everything there was to know about Decker Harris. I tried to find similarities in our upbringing. I wanted to know about the things that hurt him. I wanted to know what made him happy. His hopes. His triumphs.

  “Why did you want to see me?”

  Decker surged forward. He was like a force as he wrapped his arms around me and blinded me with a searing kiss. I felt him ricochet throughout my body.

  His kiss was nuclear.

  My body exploded with heated lust.

  He molded his muscles against my soft skin, claiming my mouth as his tongue swept across my lips. He threaded his hands through my hair, pulling back as he bared my neck to him. I felt devoured and shaken.

  I dug my nails into his back, clinging for dear life as he bit along the thudding pulse lining my neck. I felt enveloped in his toxic taste. “What are you doing?” I rasped. I wanted to make sense of this. But most of all? I wanted to make sure that he was certain. He had been hinting since I came home from dinner with my dad that this was more, but tonight felt different. It felt like we were finally plunging into the icy cold waters of our affections for one another. The new sensations bit at my skin but felt refreshing all the same.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

  I shoved at Decker’s chest until his back was crushed against the bark of the tree. It was ironic that our souls would finally collide at the place where he built a friendship with my brother. If we were going to ruin everything, it seemed fitting that we would consummate it on an altar of their brotherhood.

  Dragging my nails down the front of his chest, I rested my hands at the waistband of his jeans before delivering a forceful kiss of my own. Our mouths were like fists.

  His lips fused to mine. His body shuddered at my touch. I moved my body like a wave against his, but it wasn’t enough—it would never be enough. I craved a closeness to Decker that no amount of kisses would fulfill.

  Hiking my right leg up, I rested it on the peg of the ladder leading up to the treehouse. He started grinding against my core, his tented jeans pressing against the throbbing spot where I needed him most. He looked luminous in the light, and though my heavy eyes wanted to close so I could sink in the feel of his body, I didn’t want to miss the sight of his blissful face or his swollen, bruised lips.

  His finger traced my leg, then started rubbing along my hot center, on top of my pajama shorts. My legs shook. Moans burst past my lips for him to feast on. His palm created unhinged friction against my nub, and I nearly toppled over when his finger slipped behind the barrier of my shorts and into my cunt.

  “Can you fit in the treehouse?” I asked while tearing my lips from his and looking up at the small building above us.

  He smirked, and I knew his reply before the words escaped his lips. “I can make it fit.” I snickered before moving to ascend the ladder. He quickly followed after me. I felt his eyes on my ass as I climbed, and I added an extra sway to my steps as I arched my back. It felt like each step was another nail in the coffin. Another plunge into the depths of this decision.

  His hand pressed the curve of my back. “Hurry up before I eat you out on this ladder.” I hit a full stop, making him chuckle. “Go, Blakely,” he groaned.

  When I finally got to the trap door, I shoved it open and hoisted myself inside. Finding a small lantern, I turned it on and watched in amusement as Decker stumbled after me, struggling to get his hips through the small opening. “Need help?” I asked when his foot slipped. His palms slammed on the plywood floor as he steadied himself.

  “I’m fine,” he gritted.

  It wasn’t until his massive body was lying on the plywood platform that I looked around. Forgotten toys and a sign that said no girls allowed were spewed around the small room. It was just big enough for both of us to lie down.

  The act of climbing seemed to have slowed our impulses, and now that we were alone in the secluded homage to his childhood, doubt started to creep across both of our expressions.

  “So what now?” he asked.

  “You tell me.” I wasn’t going to be the one to decide. If we did this—whatever this was—it would be mutual. I didn’t want to feel like Mama, coercing and seducing a man.

  “Take off your clothes, Blakley,” he ordered after a tense moment.

  I happily obliged, shedding my sleep tank and shorts the moment that demand left his lips. “Good girl,” he whispered in awe as his hooded eyes swept along the curve of my breasts and my tight stomach. His gaze lingered on the birthmark on my hip. I watched his appraisal of me while mulling over his praise. The first time he’d said “good girl,” it had awakened something hot inside of me. Now, I just wanted to please him more.

  I lay down without instruction, using my clothes as a thin, makeshift pallet to protect my skin against the bite of the rough wood. He moved to hover over me and rested on his knees before reaching behind his head to remove his shirt.

  The moment his chest was bare, I leaned up to flick my tongue over his nipple while grabbing the waistband of his jeans. He positioned himself between my legs, and the only thing separating us were his jeans and my thin panties. I was slick with needy heat as he kissed me again.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist, increasing the friction as I ground against him. He palmed my breast through my bra as I writhed beneath him. It wasn’t enough.

  “More,” I begged as he slipped his fingers under my underwear and shoved them down.

  “More,” he relented while reaching to unclasp the button on his jeans.

  “More,” I whispered as he stumbled to pull off his pants with desperate need.

  “More,” he pleaded when I wrapped my hands around his cock and stroked him. His back arched. He shuddered and the air fizzled from the friction our rubbing bodies created. I half wondered if we were going to burn the treehouse down.

  “Shit, you feel so good,” he groaned as I pulled my hand away. He started grinding along my slit, coating his cock with my heat while rubbing against my clit. Faster he slid. Up and down, bumping my sweet spot as he lavished my mouth with consuming kisses. He felt eager and wild. The intimacy of our moment left me feeling gloriously exposed. It enticed my senses. His touch was indelible.

  I was building. Building. Burning up from the inside out. Reaching for that invisible tether of pleasure within and coaxing it to blossom before us.

  And then he stopped. Stopped.

  Decker fucking stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked when he got off of me and sat with his back against the wall. His dick was hard as hell as he hung his head in shame.

  “This. This is wrong.”

  Oh hell no, we were too far gone to stop now.

  I ruminated on his refusal for a moment. I allowed m
yself a brief moment to absorb my feelings. Anger. Disappointment. Grief. Loss. Guilt.

  “Fuck you, Decker,” I spat while pulling up to a sitting position. “Fuck. You. Fuck your mind games. Fuck your guilt. Tell me why you stopped!”

  My voice was so loud I was sure the neighbors would hear, but I didn’t care.

  “I’m your teacher,” he stuttered.

  “I’ll transfer out of your class,” I bargained while crawling closer to him.

  “I’m Lance’s best friend!”

  “He’ll learn to be happy for us,” I promised while settling over his lap. I hovered to keep space between us.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he rasped.

  “I’m on the pill,” I promised before sinking onto his hard cock.

  My walls stretched to accommodate him. He was so big. I was so full. We both moaned the moment our bodies connected, and it was like harmony, perfect harmony. It was serendipitous. It was haunting. It was ideal but somehow wrong, too.

  I wanted this thing to be mutual between us, but I’d taken that choice away. Now he couldn’t stop.

  Up and down I moved, all while he refused to look me in the eye. I rode him hard and fast, light whimpers escaping my lips each time he bumped that deep need within me. Grabbing his chin, I forced him to look me in the eye as I reached my peak. I wanted him to watch me come undone. “You see this?” I asked as sweat dripped down my face. “You see me riding your cock?”

  “Yes.” His voice was hoarse.

  “Look me in the eye when I come, Decker. I’m yours. I’m fucking yours.”

  I broke apart in his lap, creaming his dick as I screamed his name over and over and over. It was one of those rolling orgasms that just seemed to go on and on. He watched it all, his mouth parted in ecstasy as I shivered and arched, my body contorting to accommodate the pleasure coursing through me.

  And when I was done, I rested my forehead against his, breathing in his whiskey breath smell and exhaling his name. “Decker, I’m yours,” I promised.

  We sat like that for a moment, his dick still hard as steel and twitching inside of me as if to spur me to move again. “Decker, I’m yours,” I said again. I wanted him to feel how much he owned me. I wasn’t sure when it happened or why the world decided two people who didn’t belong together should feel this way, but I was falling for Decker Harris. Or maybe I already had.

  Finally, Decker replied to my declaration with a simple word that echoed his acceptance.

  “Mine.”

  In an instant, I was pulled off of him and slammed down onto the plywood floor. My head cracked against the hard wood, and the jagged grooves bit into my skin, but I didn’t care. He parted my thighs with one hard press of his hands and plunged inside of me, his slamming movement almost punishing against my sensitive pussy. “Mine,” he said with a hard thrust. “Say it again.”

  “I’m yours, Decker. I’ve been yours since you confronted me in the hallway outside our loft,” I promised through broken, clipped words and harsh breaths.

  “This mouth is mine.” He leaned forward and bit my lip, tugging the plush skin with his teeth as he slid in and out. Wet noises filled the treehouse as our bodies slipped and collided. “These breasts are mine,” he added before pinching my nipples between his thumb and index finger, pulling my peak as far as it would go while teetering me on the edge of pain and pleasure.

  “I’m all yours, Decker,” I gritted as my back arched off the plywood.

  “This tight”—pound—“little pussy”—pound, pound, pound—“is mine, too,” he promised between each slam of his cock. His touch was wrought with power. His scorching touch enveloped me in sensations, and I felt my body prepare for another orgasm.

  “I’m going to come again,” I said as my bottom lip dropped, preparing to release another scream. I couldn’t keep quiet, and I was so in the moment I almost didn’t care. He placed a hand over my mouth to muffle the noise.

  “Your come is for me. Only. Me,” he said.

  Our bodies curled and fought as we orgasmed together. We were nothing but a collection of rising swells. Falling empires. Dying realities and blooming beginnings.

  We’d become our own truths.

  25

  Blakely

  I woke up in a cloud of soft sheets. I stretched my arms high above my head and wiggled my hips, smiling when I felt the ache there. Decker and I spent hours in the treehouse. Bugs crawled along the wilted wooden beams, an audience to our depraved declarations for one another.

  We didn’t make any promises for the future. We didn’t make any plans or figure out this mess of our attraction. We simply spent hours acquainting our bodies and working each other over again and again until we were nothing but a sweaty mess of limbs. It was beautiful.

  A soft knock on the door brought a smile to my face, and I got out of bed and sauntered over to the door. But when I opened it, it wasn’t Decker on the other side. It was Lance. I didn’t know why I was expecting Decker to be there. It wasn’t like we could have this sentimental morning after. We couldn’t enjoy coffee at the breakfast table while exchanging lingering stares that whispered what had transpired between us. “Good morning,” Lance said with a smile while handing me a cup of coffee. I fixed my expression into something that didn’t look like I was thoroughly fucked last night and gratefully accepted it.

  “Good morning,” I replied. Lance chuckled.

  “Did you sleep well? I’ve never seen you this cheerful in the morning. If you like the guest room, we can recreate it back at the loft?” he offered.

  Shit. I wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding the fact that I was still high on Decker Harris. “I just really like it here,” I said. It was the truth. Despite knowing that we were running from whatever men were chasing down my father and the uncomfortable confrontation I’d had with Decker’s mother, it was lovely.

  “I’m thrilled to hear that, Blakely. We can visit as much as you’d like. Mom and Dad really like you,” Lance said with a broad grin that made me feel guilty. The implications of last night hit me like a freight train, and a swarm of negative emotions started to paint over the happiness I had felt. Lance must’ve noticed the shift in my expression, because he then spoke. “We don’t have to though. I was just suggesting. I don’t want to pressure you into anything—”

  “I would love to come here again, Lance. Your parents are really nice. I’m really glad that you had them,” I said reverently. And it was true.

  Lance scratched the back of his neck before looking down the hall, then back at me. “Mom is making breakfast. I know you don’t like pancakes, but how do you feel about French toast?” he asked. I was curious how he’d learned that I didn’t like pancakes, but I realized seconds later that Decker probably told him.

  “That sounds wonderful. Maybe we can call Dad’s parole officer again?” I’d been so wrapped up in Decker that I didn’t even think about Dad last night. But standing here in the harsh realities of the morning glow reminded me that we were here for a reason.

  “I already spoke to her. Your dad is nowhere to be found; seems he fled Memphis. We’re probably safe to go back tomorrow, and the guys he was associated with are on a watch list. The authorities have assured us that we are perfectly safe.”

  It sounded like they were brushing everything under the rug, but I didn’t voice my concerns to Lance. I wanted to be back in Memphis. If Dad needed something, I wanted to be close by. I didn’t like the idea that no one could find him. What if he hadn’t fled? What if the guys got to him?

  “If you say so,” I said.

  “Besides, I hear you have a lot of school work to catch up on. Cutting class, hmm? I let it slide because it was her birthday, but I don’t believe for a second that you conveniently got the flu on Thursday.”

  I winced. “It’s been a long week,” I explained. “I’ll be back to normal on Monday.”

  “Good,” Lance began. “I would hate to have to ground you or sick Rose on your ass.”

&n
bsp; I was hoping that Decker would join us for breakfast, but it was just the Trasks and me. Jonathan talked about his work mostly. He was incredibly passionate about saving lives, and it almost made me reconsider my disgust for the human body. Katy was incredibly kind, asking me about my interests and avoiding the topic of my mother. I wasn’t sure if she was just intuitive or if Lance had warned her that there was a painful history there, but either way, I appreciated her determination to make me feel welcome.

  The hours passed by, and I grew more and more nervous. I didn’t want to ask Lance where Decker was and make him suspicious of me, but after lunch and dinner passed, I started doubting myself. “Where has Decker been all day?” I finally asked as Katy began to clean up our dessert plates.

  “He went looking for his dad,” Lance explained. “He should be back soon though. Figured we could watch a movie in the theatre room,” Lance explained.

  “Ooh! That would be fun!” Katy said with a grin. “I have the perfect movi—”

  “We’re not watching The Notebook again,” Jonathan growled. Her pretty face fell.

  “I was thinking maybe something with superheroes?” Lance offered while tossing the leftover food on his plate in the trash.

  I heard the front door open and shut, and my heart constricted. Decker joined us in the dining room, and his eyes connected with mine. Warmth, pure warmth. He said a thousand reassuring words with a single glance before walking over to pat Lance on the back. “Hey, man,” he greeted.

  “Hey, how was your dad?” Lance asked before grabbing what was left of the dessert pan and plopping it on the table in front of an empty seat. Decker sat down and started digging through the Sundae Pie, eyeing me before answering Lance’s question.

  “He said he was too busy to see me,” Decker said with his mouth full. A hint of whipped cream was on the corner of his mouth, and I leaned forward to wipe it clean with my tongue but stopped about a foot away when I realized what I was doing. I was already fucking this up. I was obviously not good at secrets.