Vicious Lies

by Ella Miles

  “Langston?” I breathe out. He’s returned to punish me, I have no doubt.

  He doesn’t answer me. He walks silently toward me, his feet sounding loud and heavy.

  He’s trying to scare me, prepare me, for what he’s about to do to me.

  But I’m one step ahead of him.

  He squats down in front of me and takes my hand in his.

  “You smell that?” I ask, my voice is raspy.

  He lifts my fingers to his face and takes a deep inhale. There is no mistaking what my fingers smell like: sex.

  He growls low and deep. The sound vibrates through my body—the missing piece to my arousal.

  He grips me hard on the biceps, pinning me against the wall with his legs between my knees and thighs.

  I don’t know what he has planned as punishment for me, and I don’t care.

  Right now, I need to come. I need to chase the demons inside my head away.

  I grab Langston’s hand and tear it from my bicep. He thinks I’m going to fight him, that I can’t handle his touch. Just the opposite. My body is begging for a man’s touch.

  I spread my legs wider. And although I can’t see Langston’s face, I know he’s shocked.

  His heart rate is about to double in speed.

  Carefully, I pull his fingers to my mouth and suck viciously. I let my teeth scrape harder than I should, but I want his fingers nice and wet before he touches me. Then, I glide his fingers to my entrance.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper.

  His fingers don’t move from my slit, but they don’t push inside me either.

  I’m impatient and needy. I won’t wait.

  I grab his hand and push his fingers inside me.

  I gasp as I grip onto his shirt with one hand, and keep my other around his wrist.

  “Fuck me, Langston.”

  I guide his hand in and out. Eventually, he starts moving his fingers in and out on his own accord.

  My head falls back against the wall, and I spread open wider for him so he can get deeper inside me.

  Langston takes full advantage.

  “Yes,” I moan as he pounds his fingers inside me.

  I bite my lip, and he pushes again and again.

  “More,” I breathe. “I need more.”

  It takes him a moment to catch my meaning, but he pushes a second, then a third finger, inside.

  “Oh, god, yes!” I moan, no longer forming coherent thoughts in my head.

  It feels incredible, but he has yet to touch my clit. Probably because he thinks if he doesn’t touch me there, then I won’t gain pleasure. Then this is still a form of punishment.

  Ha.

  There is nothing punishing about this.

  I grab his other hand and slide his fingers over my clit.

  “Rub,” I order.

  He growls again but complies.

  He starts rubbing, but his fingers only manage a couple of rubs before he slips off my clit.

  Damn, Langston!

  There is a loud sound.

  Langston stills.

  “I’m so close,” I exhale.

  He ignores me.

  Then, suddenly, his fingers are gone.

  And then, so is he.

  No!

  He doesn’t get to get me all worked up and then not finish me.

  I jump off the ground and run to the door.

  It’s open.

  I run out and chase Langston down the hallway. I don’t care if an army is attacking us, he better come finish what he started right now.

  I don’t make it far until I run into a brick wall of a chest.

  I stop abruptly.

  His fingers hold me back at the waist.

  A light flickers on.

  Langston’s angry glare leaves me timid and weak at the knees.

  His eyes roam up and down my body, like he’s taking inventory of it.

  A soft breeze blows through the window. It’s then I realize I’m naked. My robe must have fallen off as I was chasing after him.

  His eyes heat on the scar on my stomach.

  I move my hands to cover it, but he gently and firmly removes my hand so he can inspect my scar.

  “Are you ready to sleep in my bed?” he asks sternly.

  “No.”

  “Then what are you doing out of the closet?”

  “I—I, uh, just wanted to know why you stopped. What you were chasing?”

  “Go back to bed, Liesel.”

  “What about—”

  “Now!” His booming voice demands compliance.

  I have no choice but to walk back to the closet.

  I find my robe on the floor and cover my body. Once again, I find myself slumping in the corner of the closet.

  He walks to the door, and this time, I see his eyes before he closes the door. They brand into me, hiding his thoughts but making it clear he’s angry with me.

  Then the door is shut and locked.

  I’m left alone once again.

  Once again with my demons.

  Once again to finish myself.

  I huff, knowing there is no way I’m going to come now. Tonight, I’m going to have to deal with my monsters.

  To make things worse, I’ve shown Langston how weak I am for his body. Now he has an even bigger advantage. I need to figure out how to get the upper hand. I need to get ahold of a phone and call Waylon, Siren, or Kai. Anyone who might search and find me.

  Or I could strike my own deal with Langston. One that keeps him from touching me during the day, but at night…

  22

  Langston

  I wake before the sun—not that I slept. I couldn’t after what happened with Liesel last night.

  The woman is the most irritating, confounding, frustrating woman on the planet. She’s also the most intriguing, alluring, beautiful woman.

  And that means I’m fucked.

  I should stay away, except when I’m pushing her to spill her secrets, but I can’t. I want to fuck her so badly. My balls are blue just thinking about it.

  I can’t.

  I can do many things to Liesel—torture her, demand truths, even kill her. I just can’t fuck her.

  Dammit, do my balls ache. My cock is stiff as a board, and after thirty minutes of trying to jack myself off, I’m more sexually frustrated than I was when I started. Finally, I just give up and decide to start my day.

  I flick the lock on the door and wait, but Liesel doesn’t move inside the closet.

  I listen carefully and hear her soft snoring—she’s asleep.

  She’ll figure out soon enough that the door is unlocked.

  I head downstairs and find Amelia in the kitchen.

  “Oh, Langston, I don’t have coffee made yet. I wasn’t expecting you to wake up for another hour like you usually do,” Amelia says.

  I grunt and make my way to the coffee machine. I don’t usually operate it, but I’m too tired for words. I take the bag of coffee beans and put them into the hand grinder. I begin grinding when the handle pops off.

  “Son of a bitch.” I slam the grinder down on the counter—beans and broken metal fly everywhere.

  I breathe heavily, realizing I need a release, any release. I need to get far away from the blonde upstairs.

  “Let me work on your coffee for you,” Amelia says, taking what remains of the grinder from my hands.

  I nod and place my hands on my head as I storm out of the kitchen.

  I should go for a run. Or meditate. Or swim. Something healthy to get my pent up frustration out.

  Instead, I go see Joel.

  I’m not sure if it will help or make things worse, but I need to see him. I need answers to what happened last night.

  Joel is one of my trusted men who lives in the house with me, so I don’t have to go far.

  I walk to his door, letting my feet hit the floor roughly so he can hear me coming. When I knock, the sound is loud enough to wake the entire house up.

  I can hear him moving in his bed, and then
his feet hit the floor as he runs to answer the door. He knows it’s me. He knows I have questions for him.

  He opens the door without a shirt on. His hair is a disheveled mess, and a five o’clock shadow covers his face.

  “Yes?” he asks as he grips the doorframe.

  “What happened last night?”

  He frowns. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”

  My eyes scan his face, looking for the truth.

  For the first time, I wish I had cameras in my bedroom so I could know for sure if he’s telling the truth.

  “Did you do what I asked?”

  Joel’s eyes linger behind me, and I realize that Liesel has woken up. Probably my knocking or the blunder with the coffee grinder jolted her into the morning.

  I glare at Joel.

  I don’t care that Liesel is standing behind us watching the exchange. I want to know what happened from his mouth because Lord knows I don’t trust a word out of Liesel’s.

  “Yes,” he answers before closing the door.

  I turn and glance at Liesel but don’t speak to her. She’s still wearing that damn robe, even though she can’t seem to keep it on her body all the time. She won’t ask for clothes, but I won’t survive her staying here a year without her completely covered in layers.

  Liesel’s eyes follow me while I walk back to the kitchen.

  “Amelia, get Liesel some clothes and make sure she’s wearing them by the time I get back.”

  Amelia blushes with a knowing smile as Liesel enters the kitchen.

  “Langston, can we—” Liesel starts.

  “I’m taking the helicopter to the other side of the island. Don’t worry about lunch or dinner for me today, Amelia.”

  Liesel’s mouth snaps shut. Finally, she understands I won’t be talking to her during the day. My only use for her is at night.

  I walk away from Liesel before she has a chance to open her sassy mouth.

  I’m grumpy, annoyed, and sex-deprived. And based on how Liesel is telling her stories, I know what story she’s going to tell next.

  I’m terrified of her lying about the next part of her story.

  I’m more terrified if she finally decides to tell the truth.

  One of us might end up dead tonight.

  Or worse—I’ll lose control and fuck her. Although, from the way her body responded to me last night, she just might enjoy that.

  I’m not surprised to find Liesel already sitting on the beach as the sun begins to set.

  She’s wearing a red bikini top and jean shorts. Her skin is more tanned than it was this morning. She must have spent the day in the sun.

  Meanwhile, I spent the day in torment.

  I readjust the bag on my shoulder as I walk down to the beach to meet her. I’m glad she’s wearing clothes; I just wish she was wearing more clothes.

  The waves crash against the shore as I take a seat next to her. I don’t bother with a towel this time. We sit directly on the sand tonight.

  Once again, I pull out two lowball glasses and pour them with Liesel’s favorite scotch. Luckily, it’s my favorite scotch too.

  She takes her glass, and we drink, watching the waves and the setting sun.

  Clouds are covering most of the sun. Instead of the vibrant yellows, oranges, and reds that usually paint the sky, tonight’s sunset is muted. It’s gray and pale yellow. It’s fitting for the conversation we are about to have.

  “Care to skip ahead to the part about what your half of the letter says? Or just skip the next couple of years of our past? Maybe tell a happy story. I’m in a foul mood.”

  She smirks. “Why? Didn’t get good sleep last night?”

  I lift my glass to my lips. I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to get through tonight. “Something like that.”

  “Try sleeping on the hard floor of a closet. Then you can complain.”

  “You are welcome in my bed anytime.”

  She bites her lip but doesn’t take me up on my offer.

  “That’s what I thought.” We both finish our drinks. I take the bottle and pour more scotch into our glasses.

  “You’re terrified of what I’m going to say, aren’t you?”

  I roll my shoulders back. “No.”

  “We can always tell when we are lying to each other. You’re grumpy, sleep-deprived, and antsy. And you’re a shot away from being drunk. You only get like this when I get under your skin.”

  “Start talking before I decide to take away a month of your life.”

  Her eyes narrow at me.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” she says.

  That makes one of us.

  “I had three protectors. Three men who cared about me in very different ways. One claimed I drove him mad. That I was a spoiled little princess even though I didn’t have a penny to my name. That I took more than I gave,” she starts her story.

  Zeke—she’s talking about our friend Zeke who always found Liesel annoying. But he never took the time to get to know her like Enzo and I did.

  “One claimed to love me. He stole kisses, fucked me senseless, gave me everything—money, clothes, college tuition.”

  Enzo. Her words burn through me like a raging fire. She’s trying to get me irritated before she gets to the hard part. But it’s all difficult. Hearing that she fucked him, even though I already knew it, hurts.

  “And one claimed to be my best friend. He claimed to protect me, to kill for me. He couldn’t offer me money, or love, or kindness, but he could offer me his protection.”

  Me—she’s talking about me.

  “All three failed. I could have forgiven them the first time. I did forgive them. I moved on with my life. I went back to school and started flirting with Enzo again. But when they failed twice, I was well beyond forgiveness.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the pain.

  I should blame myself for how Liesel turned out. I failed her. Sure, Enzo and Zeke should have known as well. We all should have protected her. But this is my biggest failure, and she’s about to rub it in my face.

  I deserve every bit of pain I’m about to endure.

  I should apologize for my failure.

  I should beg for her forgiveness.

  But I’ll do neither.

  I don’t deserve compassion.

  And there are no words to apologize for what I’ve done.

  Liesel has stopped talking.

  “Keep going. I deserve to know the pain I caused.”

  “Why? So you can get off on it?” her head whips to me.

  “No, so I can do penance.”

  “Like you care at all. You’re going to kill me! You don’t care about my pain.”

  “Then do it for the boy who once did.”

  She blinks rapidly, looking at me.

  “Enzo’s father raped me a second time. I won’t go into the gory details, but he would have raped me again and again…” her voice falters as she speaks.

  “The first time, I was able to survive it. Somehow I went back to my normal life. After getting raped again, everything changed.”

  She finishes her glass.

  I pick up the bottle to pour her more, but she shakes her head.

  Uneasily, I put the bottle back down in the sand.

  “Six weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.”

  Her words squeeze around my heart. I already knew she was pregnant, but it still hurts that she went through that alone.

  “Did you tell anyone?” I ask, wondering if Enzo knew. Her mother, anyone? I clearly wasn’t worthy of the news. She didn’t think I would help her, protect her.

  “No. The first person I told was a nurse at an abortion clinic.”

  There is so much agony in her voice. So much outrage at what she had to endure in solitude.

  She was raped—twice.

  And everyone in her life who was supposed to protect her failed.

  I failed.

  And then worst of all, none of us realized anything was wrong.

  I s
aw something was different and still didn’t protect her. I didn’t hold her hand when she went to the clinic. I did nothing.

  Liesel purses her lips and blows through them. She’s trying not to cry.

  Her and me both.

  “What stopped you from going through with it?”

  She bites her bottom lip, rolling it around between her teeth.

  “The child’s father did.”

  “Jesus,” I curse. Enzo’s father stopped her.

  I didn’t know that part of the story. It’s bad enough the bastard raped her, but then he forced her to have his child.

  She shakes her head. “He told me if I aborted our child, he’d just rape me again and again until I got pregnant.

  “I never wanted to have children. Especially not as a teenager, but I had no choice,” she says.

  I should have been there. I should have helped her.

  “After graduation, I ran. I told everyone I was taking a gap year before I went to college. Enzo had given me some money, and he’d already paid for my college. No one questioned why I wanted to take a break before school.

  “I ran. I hid. And I had the baby—alone. Then I made the choice to give him up—alone. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she whimpers.

  Sharp pain shoots through my body at her words. I tracked her every day of her trip. I watched her from afar. I knew the truth, and I did nothing. I let her be by herself.

  I pound my fists into the ground, trying to hold back the tears.

  Liesel was my best friend growing up.

  Until everything changed.

  Until she started chasing Enzo instead of hanging with me.

  Until I fucked it all up by not keeping my word.

  Until I made a promise that ensured I would stay away from her forever.

  I put my hand on the ground behind me as I lean back.

  Somehow, my hand finds hers.

  Our fingers intertwine.

  We sit on the beach, holding hands like lovers.

  “Did you know? Did you know that I was pregnant? That I was raped?”

  I squeeze her hand as my tears finally fall.

  She doesn’t cry, though.

  She never cries.

  “No,” I lie.

  Her teeth grind together as she nods.