The lies you love, p.3
The Lies You Love, page 3
My head swims as I eye myself down in the mirror. At least with all the padding in the trash can, I have my shape back. There’s no hope for the dress or the wig. I wipe off the lipstick. Betty and Lindsey stumble into the small space.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Betty says.
I smirk. “Lindsey forced you in here to make amends so we don’t destroy Margot’s night?”
I can tell by the slant of Betty’s eyes that I’m correct. “No, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’ve been on a… weird path lately and we’re worried.”
This makes me laugh. I gesture to their outfits. “Now? Now is the time you pick for an intervention?” I air quote the last word. “When we all look like eighty-year-old women? Tell me about weird paths again,” I say, but the alcohol hits all at once, and now I’m slurring.
“You said you liked the idea,” Lindsey argues, tossing her gray wig over one shoulder. “It was a majority vote. Granny night was supposed to be funny.”
“I can assure you I’m fine. I’m not on a weird path. I’m just… making sure I don’t have all-encompassing magic powers.” I smirk.
“What does that even mean?” Lindsey says, admiring her makeup in the mirror.
“Turning men gay by having sex with them,” I deadpan, scratching the back of my gray bun. Neither cracks a smile. “It was a joke.”
Betty rolls her eyes. “A bad joke. Come back out with us, and let’s try to salvage this. The next bar we’re headed to is vintage.”
“Old,” I correct. “The next bar is old. Don’t try to call it something it’s not just to make it seem cool. We couldn’t get into the cool bar.” I pull at the dress. “I will go back out there, but I’m going to talk to the guys at the bar.”
Betty scoffs. “Now that’s a joke.”
Lindsey turns and eyes me over her thin, old lady glasses. “Taking another guy home tonight will be a mistake.”
I shake my finger at her. In my most elderly voice, I scratch out, “A mistake made more than once isn’t a mistake. It’s a decision.” I return to my normal voice. “So, let me make my own decisions, would you?”
The girls move out of my way, and I do feel guilty for a beat. They’re trying to help me, even if their concerns are misplaced. These friends treat me like I’m still recovering. Margot has a drink in her hand, and she’s dancing with Megan to one of her favorite songs when I exit the bathroom. They won’t even miss me. My shoulders back, I approach the bar and the group of men. They don’t notice me at first, of course, as I sit down on the free stool next to them. The man wearing the black shirt with the word groom on the back is drunkest—his eyes heavy and lids half-mast. Someone thrusts water at him, and I order myself another drink. I embody my worst fear, single, old, ordering my own drinks, being overlooked. The bartender has a smirk on his face as I tell him to keep the change. At least I’m entertaining. That has to count for something. Maybe I’ll keep my body, and I’ll be wrinkly but hot.
I sip the gin and soda and listen in to the conversation taking place next to me. “It counts,” one man says. “It totally counts.” I didn’t catch the start of what was said, but an attractive man the size of a brick building is looking at me, white teeth gleaming in the low light.
When he notices me staring back, he stalks toward me, thick legs clad in jeans that hug his curves just right. My mouth is dry, and I set my drink down when it begins to shake in my hand. I didn’t expect it to be this easy. He has to be coming over to talk about my dumb costume, I reason.
“I’m Beckett,” he says, extending his hand. “You are part of the cougar party over there, I take it. What’s your name?”
No pick-up lines or bad jokes even though I’m wearing a fucking wig and a dress my great-grandma would wear to church. He just asks my name. Beckett, a hot guy name, I think, shifts his buddy out of the way to sit down on the stool next to me. I remain quiet, mostly stymied he’s giving me the time of day. Even if I were dressed as perfectly as the two women in the bathroom, I wouldn’t be in this guy’s league. His hair is brown and done in that messy, sexy way only attractive guys can pull off. His cheekbones are sleek, his jaw wide and defined. He is textbook beautiful. He’s also at least six-four, so he’s probably hung like a stallion.
“I’m-I’m Annie,” I stutter like a moron. It’s my name tonight. Never give a real name. It’s one of the few rules I give myself while prowling. “My friend is getting married,” I explain, turning the focus off myself. “This whole granny night bachelorette party was not my idea.” Pinching the dress, I eye it with distaste. “You guys look to be having more fun.” I peer around him to the groom who is dribbling water down his chin while he sings the alphabet.
Beckett grins, and I have to clench my thighs together. There’s a dangerous edge to his mouth. I bet he can do wicked things with it. “I’m having fun now,” he says, thick lips wet from where he just licked them. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I raise one brow. “Out of all of the women here tonight,” I say, laying a palm on my chest. “Why me?” I amend, “I know I’m a catch when I’m not dressed as Gertrude Nelly, but you don’t know that.”
His smile widens. I gulp. “Older women are my thing,” he says, winking and licking his bottom lip again. I can’t tear my eyes away. How is his face so perfect? “And I can see past the wig and frock, Ms. Nelly. You’re exactly my type. Plus, you initiated with a look, and I could never be rude to an elder.”
“Oh, okay.” Brilliant response, Auden. You sound like a meek child.
I lose my breath. Beckett motions to the bartender and orders shots for his friends and me. I take mine when it arrives and begin nursing my gin and tonic that’s watering down. I watch him closely as he takes the shot with his friends. You know how some people become even hotter when they get drunk? Their faces seem happier? Eyes more seductive and alluring? Cheeks a little pink, and movements swaggering? Of course, Beckett gets hotter as he drinks. Or, you’re getting drunker, I remind myself. I take off the glasses, but there’s no way this wig is coming off without some prep work and removal of one thousand bobby pins. I sigh. Be brave. Make the move. The worst he can do is turn you down.
I grab his elbow, and he spins to focus his attention solely on me. “Do you want to get out of here?”
He plays, tossing his head back and forth like it’s a question he’s not sure how to answer. “Let’s get out of here, Gertie. If you teach me how to knit, I’ll get you a slice of pizza on the way back to my place.”
I hold his eye contact and nearly melt from the heat enveloping me. “I can’t knit, but I can teach you a few things, I’m sure.”
His smile fades, but the light in his dark eyes sparks brighter. “I look forward to that.”
His buddies make a show of saying goodbye. They’re loud, raucous, and drunk. They clap his back and congratulate him. For what, I’m not sure. Like I’m a catch? There’s no way.
“I need to tell my friends goodbye. Where is your place? And uh, your last name?”
Beckett seems amused. “You’re worried?”
I see two of him right now, so I’m definitely a little uncomfortable. “A woman can never be too careful in this day and age. There are a lot of sick people out there. Now you’re a very attractive man, like, really fucking hot,” I say, horrified at my word vomit. Beckett folds his arms, looking at me, amused. “But so was Ted Bundy.”
“Ted Bundy was average at best. He was just charming,” he counters. “Convincing is what Bundy was good at. My last name is Fallon, and my apartment is three blocks up. What’s your cell number? I’ll text you the full address and my mother’s maiden name.”
“Are you being an ass?” I counter.
He furrows his brow. “No. I’m serious.”
“Oh,” I say.
He’s a decent human who also appears to resemble a stacked supermodel. Great. Even more out of my league than I initially thought. I give him my phone number, and he does as he said. I forward the message to my friend group. I watch as they take out their phones at the notification and as they scan the room looking for me. Beckett is standing next to me when I wave. Margot looks worried, Lindsey and Betty are pissed but impressed, and Megan is so drunk her phone is probably at the bottom of the fish tank in the corner. I tuck my arm into his and let him guide me out into the night.
He doesn’t say anything more to his friends. He just leaves with me, a massive smile on his face. The night air is warm, and I have a sticky layer of sweat from the damn tights and packed bodies in the building. I’d give anything to look my best right now. Beckett is the kind of guy I might pretend with. There’s no chance of that with my self-esteem in the dumpster, though.
“I was going to go up to you if you didn’t come up to me first,” Beckett says, peering down at me.
“Me in particular or one of my other grandmother friends?”
“You,” he replies. “You had the nicest ass of the group.”
I blow out an embarrassed breath. “It was supposed to be funny. The big ass, but then it just got uncomfortable. And hot. And it was a bad idea. I guess not that bad of an idea if it caught your eye, though.”
He chuckles. “It caught my eye alright.” Beckett clears his throat. “Won’t you miss hanging out with your friend for her celebrations? The night is young.”
“Won’t you?” I counter.
He shakes his head. “They won’t miss me, and you are definitely someone I’d rather be hanging with. You could say I’ve been waiting a long time to hang out with you.”
The statement takes my breath away. “You don’t know me,” I say.
“I will.”
My heart skips a beat. “You don’t have to know me,” I say.
We stop in front of his apartment building. “And if I want to?”
How does he make digging in his pocket sexy? “That would be okay,” I say, trying and failing to sound in control, sober, someone not looking for a one-night stand.
Beckett finds his key card and swipes us into this building, then takes my hand as we trek up three flights of stairs to his apartment. It’s one of those older apartments that people are snatching up to remodel and flip because the area became up and coming. I’ve had lunch at the restaurant across the street a few times. I’m huffing and puffing, and I’m even more sweaty than I was before when he pushes open the door and holds out an arm so I can go in first.
“Will all of your friends be coming back here tonight?”
He’s not fazed by the stairs at all. Stamina. I like it. It also is a little scary because his positives column grows by the second.
“They aren’t. They have a suite in a hotel near the last bar in the crawl. Place is ours!” He raises his arms out to the sides. “If that’s okay with you? Would you prefer someone else be here?”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay with me?” I fire back.
“You did come home with me without much fuss. There wasn’t much of a conversation.” He grabs a bottle of alcohol from a bar cart and pours a glass. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He motions between us with his drink.
“What’s this?” I counter, enjoying the fact he seems to be double-checking his permission slip now that we’ve already boarded the bus.
He sips, and I watch his thick neck dip inward as he swallows. “Do you want a drink?”
I shake my head, mainly declining because I’ve had way too much already, and I’d really like to enjoy myself tonight.
“This is me unwinding after a hectic month. This is you taking control and having your way, any which way you want it. This is going to be…” Beckett’s words trail off.
“The best one-night stand of your fucking life, Beckett,” I supply.
His returning smile soaks my panties.
CHAPTER THREE
Beck
“Call me Beck,” I counter to her crude remark that I hope is a fact.
Annie reaches up and unfastens the horrific wig. I’m thankful though. It counts toward the Bachelor Party Scavenger Hunt. One of us had to fuck a cougar. Even if it’s a costume, they said it would count. It doesn’t hurt. I know she’s hot under it all.
“Beck,” she rasps, licking her lips. “Which way to the bathroom, so that I can turn back into myself.”
I nod my head toward the guest bath in the hallway and listen as she closes the door behind her. The water runs, and then the toilet flushes twice. There should be nerves. I don’t know her at all. It was far easier than it’s ever been before. She really just wants to fuck. I try not to read into it too far because that ruins the mood, I’ve been looking forward to this for a month. I walk across the hall to my bedroom and open the window to air it out. I only came in here to drop my bag off before meeting my friends. Other than that, it’s been shuttered for a month, save for my cleaning lady. This is my real home, not the apartment where I watch and listen to Ramsey. That’s work. It feels weird to be in this space sometimes because I lived here before I was a Charge Man. These walls have seen a man who lived a completely different life. The sheets are clean and save for a bit of dusting, everything is ready to be lived in. It has a fire escape ladder and a small landing porch if you crawl outside the window. There’s a man who lives in the apartment building across the street who walks around naked at night because he knows everyone in my building can see into his. The lights are off in his home tonight. Thank God.
Annie comes out of the guest bathroom and joins me in my room, holding her wig, frock, and tights over her forearm. She has on a simple black slip, and she’s barefoot. With her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, and the granny glasses gone, I realize she looks familiar. My heart races as she sets her stuff down on the desk chair, her gaze locked on mine. The alcohol numbs the Charge Man part of my mind. It’s why I can never drink when I’m on shift. Correction: copious amounts of alcohol make me forget things I should remember.
“You look…” I say, stepping back to get a better look at her.
“Better now that I’m not old?” she jokes, eyes twinkling.
Man, is she hot. Her body is fire. Even more so than I first gauged at the bar. Her eyes are a creamy hazel and large, and the way she moves gives off the air of confidence. Annie licks her lips, and I inhale a ragged breath as she lifts the thin dress over her head to expose her fully naked, lithe body.
“I look what?” The slip floats to the ground by her feet. The casual way she undresses and approaches me makes me feel important. Her face is so concentrated on my body that it seems she needs me to survive.
“You look… perfect,” I reply, forgetting my train of thought completely. I notice a scar, but the rest of her beauty overpowers my senses. “You look delicious,” I add, taking off my shirt. “Edible. Tight.” I can see the wetness on her thighs between her legs. “You look wet. Ready for me.” There’s no controlling my thoughts. There’s only her. Her body. A raw sensation tears through me as I let the beast out of the cage.
She slides her hand between her legs and dips her middle finger inside. I watch, but she only has eyes for me as she brings the same finger up to her mouth and runs it down the front of her lips and tongue. “I am wet. For you.”
It’s hard to resist, to not rush her and bury my throbbing cock inside her this very second, but she deserves more than a quick fuck. Swallowing down the urge, I approach her and put my finger where hers just were. Her snatch clenches around my finger when I slip it inside. It’s warm and tight. I groan, “This. This for me? You shouldn’t have.”
“Actually, I should have,” Annie says, breathing ragged. “Lie down on the bed.” At her order, my dick jerks. She’s doing what I said. “You’re in control a lot, aren’t you? Maybe you’re the boss? Have to make a lot of decisions daily?”
Backing up, I cover the king-sized bed with my body, and Annie follows me. “You don’t want to make any decisions right now. You don’t want to think. You just want to feel good.” She’s not asking, but I still nod my head.
“First, we’re going to sixty-nine because I want to ride your face,” she says, straddling my face. The view is magnificent. Her waxed cunt cuts the view of my ceiling. “And your big dick? I want to gag on it.”
“Jesus, Annie. Sure your name isn’t Angel? I think you fell out of my personal heaven.”
She sits down, her warm, slippery skin on my nose and mouth. “I don’t come from heaven, Beck. I’m more of a tropical woman.”
It’s the last thing I hear before she takes my dick into her mouth and slides all the way down. My hips jut up, seeking to go deeper. She coughs and gags but continues. Her scent is intoxicating. I can’t tell if it’s because I’ve gone without for so long or because there’s something about her. Annie tastes clean, and it’s almost criminal how soft her skin is smooth against my rough beard. She doesn’t seem to mind as the second I start working her with my tongue, she grinds against my face. I find myself gasping for breaths. In between my dick thrusting into her throat and against her lips, her warm tongue swirling around the head when she comes up, and her wet clit grinding on my chin, it’s sensory overload. Holding her ass cheeks open, I easily lift her weight off my face so I can fuck her tight hole with my tongue. I lap at her. I suck her. I devour every drop that dares exit before I can punish her with my cock instead of my mouth.
