Filthy Gorgeous Lies: Book 1 (5 page)

Cole brings a glass of orange juice to his lips before setting it down and walking over to me. Gently, he tugs the blanket from my hands and lets it fall to the floor.

“Don’t ever hide yourself from me.”

I glance pointedly at his pajama bottoms and raise a brow. “I could say the same to you.”

“If I take these off, I’ll have you up against the wall in two seconds flat.”

I smile up at him. “I don’t have any objections to that.”

He shakes his head and plucks a raspberry off the plate. “Open.”

I open my mouth and he places the tart berry on my tongue. I suck on his finger as it slides from my lips. He growls.

“I’m going to feed you and then I’m going to push my cock into that sweet pussy and ride you until you weep.”

I swallow and nod, a bit taken back by his blunt honesty. I’ve never had a man talk to me so crudely. I never thought I’d like it. But as the words tumble from his mouth, a thread of heat slithers through me. My core is wet, aching, hungry for him.

Lowering me into one of the plush dining chairs, he places two raspberries in his mouth. Bracing a hand on either armrest, cadging me in, he leans forward. His hot mouth covers mine and his tongue pushes into my mouth, the berries with it.

“Mmm.” They are sweet with just a hint of tartness. I lick my lips when he pulls away.

He takes a butter knife and spreads marmalade across a piece of toast, then holds it to my lips. I take a bite, and then he takes a bite. It’s sourdough — my favorite — and combined with the sweet tang of marmalade, it tastes heavenly.

“I find I’m quite hungry this morning,” he mummers. “Starving, in fact.”

Setting the toast aside, he takes the little marmalade jar in his hand and dips his finger into the amber–colored jam and spreads it across my left nipple, followed swiftly by his tongue.

I moan, arching up into him. Sweet Jesus, his smooth, velvety tongue feels so good against my hot skin. I don’t want it to stop. So when his lips leave me, I clamp my mouth shut to silence the whimper bubbling up in my throat.

“Close your eyes,” he commands.

“Why?”

He laughs faintly. “Because I told you to.” He leans over me and kisses my left eyelid. “Now close,” he kisses my other eyelid, “your eyes.”

I smile at his tenderness and close my eyes. He’s such a serious guy that when I get these little glimpses of softness, I can’t help but feel like it’s just for me — a little bit of himself that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

“Keep them closed until I tell you to open them.” He places my hands on the armrests and spreads my legs as far as they will go. “Stay exactly as you are. Don’t move.”

I nod, my entire body pulled tight in anticipation. My core is slick, already hungry for his cock. After a minute, I feel him spread something cool and slippery across my skin. The sweet smell of vanilla gives it away. Whipped cream. With his long fingers, he spreads the sticky cream over my breasts, my ribs, working his way down my body until I feel his hand between my thighs. He pushes a finger into me.

“Christ, you are so fucking wet, Lexi. So ready for my cock.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me want to open my eyes. But I don’t. I’m afraid he’ll stop if I do, so I just bite my lip and squeeze my eyes tighter. He pushes another finger into me, stretching my channel, making me gasp.

My clit is pulsing and each breath is sawing out of my lungs like I’ve just run a marathon. If he doesn’t fuck me soon, the desperation will kill me. I’m certain of it. Never before have I felt pleasure/torment like this and I’m near to bursting.

Clutching the armrests, I struggle to remain still. But everything inside me is dying to arch up and grind against his hand. A whimper escapes my throat.

“Shhh,” he soothes. And then I feel his lips on me again, sucking the cream off my tight nipple. “You taste like heaven,” he groans against my skin. “So fucking sweet.”

I groan in response, tilting my head back as he moves to the other nipple, sucking, nipping gently with his teeth. I try to focus on something other than my building orgasm, but I can’t. The feeling of his lips on me, the sharp, searing pain of his teeth biting into my flesh is more than I can take.

Holy shit.
I’m going to come.

“Cole,” I pant. “
Please
…”

He doesn’t answer my pleas. Instead, he licks his way down my torso, swirling his tongue around my belly button before wending his way down to my swollen, aching core.

With his hand, he spreads a healthy dollop of whipped cream on my clit, and then presses his lips against me, slowly, languidly sucking the cream off.

It’s more than I can take.

With one hard lick, hot pulsing pleasure jolts through me. I’m engulfed in sensation, writhing beneath him, a thready cry erupting from my throat. Ripples of delicious heat course through my body as he continues to suck and lick and fuck me with his tongue.

And still he doesn’t release me. Instead, he pushes one finger into my channel, then another, and another until I’m stretched impossibly wide. His thumb gently caresses my clit, swirling over the swollen nub until that crest starts building again within me.

“No, Cole, I can’t…”

I want to move my hips, buck against him. But I don’t dare.

“Yes. You can,” he growls. “Once more. Then I’ll fuck you.”

The promise of his cock buried deep inside me is enough to send me over the edge again. With my head thrown back, and my nails digging into the armrests, I surrender to it. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over me, sucking me under, leaving me panting and breathless.

It’s a full minute before I can collect myself. Removing his hand from me, I can feel him pull away. My eyes flutter open just in time to see him walk out of the bedroom. I can hear the faucet in the bathroom run for a minute, before he returns with a white washcloth in his hand.

He moves toward me with the languid self–confidence of a man who knows power and control.

His eyes narrow as he approaches me. “You’ve disobeyed me. I haven’t given you permission to open your eyes.”

I swallow and tilt my chin up, looking him square in the eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

One side of his beautiful mouth tilts upward in a half–smile. “There’s only one way to deal with disobedience. You need to be punished.”

You need to be punished.

My breath catches in my throat, and a strange sort of excitement trickles through me. My skin beings to prickle.

Tossing the washcloth onto the table, he reaches down and curls a strong hand around my forearm, wrenching me up so that we’re standing toe to toe. My body is still half–smeared in whipped cream, but he doesn’t seem to care. Spinning me around, he bends me over the table and forces me down, my face pressed against the cold polished surface of the table.

He smooths his hand over my ass in gentle circles. “What did I tell you about opening your eyes?”

“Not to do it,” I answer.

His hand leaves my ass and then comes back down with a furious
slap
that jolts through my entire body. The sharp, biting sting takes my breath away and I gasp. But entwined with the pain is the hot rush of pleasure.

His hand comes down again and I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. For some reason, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it hurts. Or maybe I’m just afraid he’ll stop.

When it’s all over, my skin is hot, tingling. Gently, his hand brushes over my ass, feather light and soothing.

“Wait here,” he murmurs.

He walks into the bathroom and a few seconds later, I hear the tub being filled. It takes several minutes, but he finally walks out, back into the dinning area, scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom.

“I can walk, you know.”

Laughing quietly, he lowers me into the giant oval–shaped tub. The water is warm, the perfect temperature and feels heavenly against my skin. It’s been so long since I’ve taken a bath — I can’t even remember the last time.

“Lean back,” he instructs, taking a bar of soap off the chrome bathtub caddy.

I settle back against the tub, wincing a little as my back makes contact with the cold porcelain. He dips the soap into the water and I suck in a breath when he drags it up my body slowly, washing away the whipped cream.

As Cole slides the soap along the contours of my body, I can see his every muscle is tense, coiled tight.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“I’m thinking how much I want to lick every inch of this delectable skin. How I want to taste every dip and valley. How badly I want to sink my teeth into this tight nipple.”

“Mmmm.” As his words wash over me, my own hands travel to my breasts. I pinch said nipple between my fingertips and moan. It feels good, but not nearly as good as his teeth would feel.

Swearing under his breath, he wrenches me out of the water abruptly. Cold air washes over my damp skin as he reaches for a thick white towel to dry me off. His movements are clipped, focused, as though he’s working hard to hold himself back.

As soon as I’m dry, he sweeps me up again and carries me to the bed, laying me gently on the mattress. With a fierce look in his eyes, he strips down until he’s completely naked, his cock jutting out from his body.

Holy shit. He’s huge. Just seeing the swollen purple tip makes me wet, ready.

Opening a drawer in the nightstand next to the bed, he pulls out a condom, rips the foil open with his teeth and slides the latex over his thick length.

Cole moves forward and lowers himself onto the bed, his body now hovering over mine. Then he kisses me, his tongue sweeping into my mouth possessively. He tastes like the raspberries we just ate — sweet with just a hint of tartness.

With his knees, he spreads me wide, the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I hardly have time to brace myself before he pushes all the way into me, balls deep, and I let out a cry of shock.

“Oh, God,” I breathe.

“Fuck, Lexi,” he growls. “You’re so fucking tight.”

His fingertips dig into my hips as he thrusts, pushing in deep. The sensation of him filling me feels so fucking good, I want to weep. He pumps into me hard, each thrust short and forceful, his pelvis stroking my clit.

I let out a moan, arching up, my body desperate for release. I whimper beneath him, pleasure slamming into me with every frenzied thrust. It’s too much. I break apart beneath him, ecstasy flooding me as he continues to thrust, over and over again, shoving me over the edge, into the abyss.

“Oh, fuck, Lexi,” he growls. “Fuck!”

With one final thrust, he stiffens and I feel his cock pulse inside me, my channel clenching around his length. It’s perfect. In that single moment, everything is perfect between us.

After several long minutes, he pulls out of me and rolls to the side, tossing the condom in the trash by the bed. Then he tugs me into his arms. We lay there for a minute with me tucked against him, my head resting on his chest. The slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat is comforting. Lying here with him makes me feel safe. Protected.

I tilt my head up and look at him. “So um, are you in New York visiting?”

“No,” he says as his fingertip idly traces swirls across my shoulder blade. “I moved here five years ago.”

Untangling myself from his arms, I sit up and stare at him, completely confused. “If you live here, then why are you in a hotel?”

“I come here when I need to focus on work.”

Except, most people don’t get a room at the St. Regis for a little weekend holiday. Especially when they’ve got a perfectly good apartment somewhere near by. This place isn’t exactly economical.

“So, um, what do you do for a living?”

It’s a natural enough question, but by the look on his face, I might as well have asked him to reveal his deepest darkest secrets.

“I’m a consultant.”

“Oh,” I respond. “Like as a computer programmer or something?”

With a heavy sigh, he pulls away and sits on the edge of the mattress, pulling his hands over his face in frustration. He curses under his breath.

Suddenly, I’m uncomfortable. Why doesn’t he want me to know what he does for a living? It is such a basic question, I’m taken back by his reluctance to tell me.

“I can’t do this,” he murmurs.

I stare at his back, beautifully curved as he dips his head and rakes both hands through his hair. I itch to lean forward and wrap my arms around him, but something in his posture holds me back.

Something has shifted between us. I’m not even sure what it is.

I inch off the bed and fish my bra and panties off the floor before slipping them on. He doesn’t move, doesn’t ask me what I’m doing. Doesn’t try to stop me. He just sits there in tormented silence — though
why
he’s tormented is a mystery. The question gnaws at me, but I’m not brave enough to ask him.

I pull my dress on, and awkwardly step into my heels. I pick up my purse and phone. “I um… have a lunch thing.”

Rising to his feet, he saunters over to me, still completely naked. My eyes rove down his chiseled torso to the dark curls nestling his cock. He’s so fucking beautiful, and just like that, I forget what I was doing. My purse hangs limply in my hand as I watch him prowl closer.