Black Lies (9 page)

Love. It was no longer a strong word for our relationship. It was now the perfect word for our relationship. I loved this man. I could not imagine a life without him. He was the complement to my fears, a man firmly set into the trappings I desired, but with the independence and confidence to turn a blind eye to all of it. Together, we avoided the public life, had started a simple life of elegance, exploring the nuances of each other while enjoying the pleasures of which he had been gifted with. With this man, I could see the possibility of a family. A genuine life. Married
and
happy, without myself in the dominance of a man who wanted a trophy wife.

“Do you approve?” He didn’t turn, continued working.

“I approve,” I said softly. “You are brilliant, baby.”

“Thanks love.”

I watched him, the flex of his back, the way his muscles yawned when he ran his hands through his hair. Listened to the soft mutter of his words as he spoke to himself. Smiled as the room went dark, crescendos played against my skin, and I fell asleep against the soft leather.

I was woken by kisses. The drag of his hands across my skin as he pulled me down in the chair, my legs nudged open, the burn of his skin as my bare knees bounced against the hard muscle of his thighs. He shouldn’t be muscular. Shouldn’t have tan skin, cut arms, a defined chest. He should be pale. Scrawny. He spent twelve hours a day under fluorescents, before computers. But I didn’t question how God blessed him. Didn’t question how or why, especially not in moments like this.

He pulled me farther, ‘til my back was flat against the seat of the chair, my butt hanging off of it, his hands soft, probing, lifting my legs to the sky and pulling the soft silk of my shorts, the scratchy tease of my thong’s lace coming along, moving up and then off my legs. And then I was bare before him, his hands pushing up the cotton of my tank, over my breasts, his body stilling when I was fully exposed before him.

“Perfect,” he breathed. Ran his hands lightly, from breast to thigh, back and forth, side to side, just the skim of fingertips across skin, just light enough to make me arch into his touch, beg for more with my eyes. I waited. Breathed. Parted my legs before his eyes and lifted my knees, ‘til my feet rested on the edge of the chair and I was open before him, nothing he couldn’t see. His eyes dropped, focused on the place between my legs, a soft groan coming from his mouth, his fingertips dragging lower and running softly over the lips of my sex.

“Perfect,” he repeated, his fingers brushing up and down over that spot, not pushing, not spreading, just a gentle caress that had me lifting my hips, his name whispering from my lips, wanting, needing more.

Then he pushed a finger inside and everything changed.

“God…” The curse, tumbling from his lips, as his mouth lowered to mine. Stretching his body forward, the hard muscles of his chest pressed against mine as he kissed me. I wrapped my legs around him, pinned his hand inside me, the gentle movement of that finger causing my breath to catch, mouth to freeze on his own.

“Yes, Brant. Oh my God, yes.”

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his mouth leaving mine, dropping to my neck, a hand pulling my legs apart as he moved down my body, his mouth soft on my skin, a delicious journey down as his finger continued its perfect tease inside my body. It’s amazing what a finger can do. Such a small digit, but able to go exactly right
there
. My back came off the leather, my breath arrested as he touched some place that made my world go dark. “Don’t stop,” I whispered. “Oh my God, don’t stop.”

I couldn’t keep my eyes open, but I wanted to. Wanted to see the look on his face, the dark intensity that stole over his face when he watched me. Wanted to see the moment he pulled out his cock, wanted to see the firm head of it, his hand wrapped around the base, the stroke of his fingers as he yanked at it.

This was his favorite moment—watching me come. It made the skin on his cock stretch as he hardened to a level past belief. It caused his eyes to darken, his breath to hitch. The muscles in his chest tightened, his hands quickened, my name a quick moan on his lips. And I knew what was coming. What would happen as the shudders ceased, as I tumbled down the delicious hill that was my orgasm. At that moment, the most perfect moment my body would ever know? That was when he would thrust. Remove his fingers and shove inside. Fill me to breaking before starting a rhythm that would trump whatever ecstasy I just experienced.

And the knowing, the expectation… opening my eyes and seeing him prepare himself, his own excited anticipation at what was about to happen… The heavy lids and pants of his breath as his finger continued its lazy brush inside of me. I bucked against his hand and came so hard I broke.

Waves upon waves, the sounds from my mouth senseless, unmeaning. I arched against his hand, humped it like an animal in heat, my body exploding around his finger, the perfect flick of his fingers making my feet kick, the glimpse of his face, dark intensity, his cock, hard and ready, and I couldn’t stop it, it stretched, continued, beautiful insanity that turned my world into stars and my body into a constellation. And then, before I fell from the sky, at the moment when my breath began to catch and my eyes flicked open, he shoved inside of me and I lost it again.

Hard, fast. He fucked me as if he hated me, but the words spilling out were nothing but love. He bent over me, dug his hands into my hips and held me tightly in place. Pounded away, my name repeating on his tongue, the urgency in his movements carrying me higher, spurring my pleasure. This was for him, and that made it for me, knowing that the loss of his control was a gift, a rarity that I was one of the few to see. I wrapped my legs, dug my heels into him, and raked my nails across his skin.

When he came, it was Brant Sharp intense, one hand tight to my neck, the other squeezing the meat of my ass, pulling me tighter, as if he would never get enough—be deep enough, be one enough—of me. He thrust fully in, moaned my name, and shuddered through the final fucks of his orgasm.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, lifting me, his hands tucking underneath my body, picking me up in a way that his cock stayed in, spinning with me until he was below and I was on top, stretched out over his body, my chest against his chest, the quick beat of our hearts off sync.

“I love you too, baby.”

Outside, I heard the roll of thunder. A storm was coming.

Brant

“When’s the event?” I took a sip of ice water, my eyes catching the waiter’s, the man scurrying to my side with the bill.

“Next Tuesday. I’ll call you that afternoon and remind you.” Jillian set down her fork, relaxing back in her chair, her hands smoothing the napkin on her lap.

“I’m not sixteen. I can remember a dinner. Though, if you let me have an assistant, you could stop worrying entirely. She could tie my shoes
and
get me to work on time.”

Jillian’s eyes softened. “You know you’re forgetful.”

“You don’t have time to keep me organized. You’re a busy woman. The company needs you more than I do.” I pulled a credit card from my wallet and dropped it on the bill, pushing it to the edge of the table before returning my stare to her.

“You’re not busy enough to need an assistant. And I don’t want some stranger thumbing through the details of our lives. You and I have looked after each other for twenty years. No need to change any of that now.”

I watched her, my mind skipping, brought back to square one by her palm, hitting the linen tablecloth with enough force to cause me to jerk.

“Stay with me Brant,” she said sharply. “You’re getting distracted and I need to run. Dinner… next Thursday. Be there.”

“Layana will remember. Email her the details.” I leaned back, watched her closely, saw her squirm in the seat against the chair. “You still hate her.”

“No,” she spoke sharply. “I never hated her. And don’t now. She’s fine. She’s just not what you need.”

“I don’t know how you’d know what I need. You’ve never even seen us together. Come by, she’s an incredible cook. You can join us for dinner.”

Jillian shook her head stubbornly, the glint of light reflecting in her diamonds. “No. I appreciate the offer, but no. Plus…” She smoothed her hands over the stack of papers before her, straightened the line of their edge. “I don’t think she would particularly want me there.”

I laughed. “Layana? See, you really
don’t
know her. She doesn’t have an unfriendly bone in her body.” Another shift. My eyes narrowed. She was hiding something. But then again, I always got that sense from her. “What?”

“Nothing. Any plans for this week?”

“Layana’s planned something. I’ll need the jet.”

Her frame stopped all movement. “For how long?” Skin around the mouth tight. Wrinkles emphasized. I looked at her and wondered. Why was she so attached to me? So afraid of my relationship with Layana. It wasn’t natural. Wasn’t normal. I shrugged. “We’ll be back by Monday. Don’t worry, the work won’t suffer.”

“It’s a very busy time, Brant.”

I tilted my head. “Not really. No irons in the fire. And you’ve done a good job of quieting any issues.”

“The board meeting is Monday.”

“And I’ll be back for it,” I repeated slowly, watching as she rose to her feet with a quick jerk.

“Please don’t forget the Rosewood event. I’ll have my assistant send her the details.”

Her
. I didn’t think Jillian had ever muttered Layana’s name. A small snub, but noteworthy. Jillian was more of a mother to me than my own. It was important to me that they got along.

The woman didn’t give up; I’ll give her that. From the start, Jillian laid down battle lines before Brant and prepared for war. Every date had been a battle, his schedule often filled with emergency items stuck in on a day that should be free. Twice during the preceding months, he stood me up, Jillian texting with a bullshit excuse after repeated calls to his cell went unanswered. And he let her do it all. Dismissed her actions with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t understand why she hates me.”

“She’s protective,” he explained. “And stubborn,” he added, reaching over the table to spear an olive from my salad.

“Protective? Why?” I stared at him across the table, the Californian coastline perfectly framing his features. Wearing a loose white V-neck tee paired with designer jeans, the watch that glinted off of his wrist a thirty-fifth birthday present from yours truly. He looked every bit the California playboy, so many of who dotted this shoreline. What he didn’t look like was a genius. Geniuses weren’t supposed to come in perfect packages with straight teeth, gorgeous features and a strong build. They were supposed to come with pocket protectors and acne scars, horrible table manners and obnoxious egos.

The beautiful man before me shrugged. Took a sip of ice water. “She’s always been worried about a woman going after me for the wrong reasons.”

I nodded. “A reasonable concern.” I didn’t know a wealthy man who didn’t share the same concern. But those same men ate up the benefits of their concern. Went through twenty-year-old cocktail waitresses like they were Kleenex. Brant… well everything Brant did was different. “Does that worry you?”

He stopped chewing, swallowed, and set down his fork. “Worry about you?” He sounded genuinely confused. “Dating me for my money?”

“Or your brain. Or that cock.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively at him but his expression didn’t change. Dead serious eyes stared back at me.

“It’s never crossed my mind.” He didn’t say the sentence in a tone that indicated he needed to consider it. He said the sentence like the ludicrous idea was one that was beneath him. I reached out, ran my fingers over the top of his hand, the palm of it rolling under my touch and cradling my hand. He lifted, bringing my hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on my fingers.

I smiled. “Thanks for the vouch of confidence.”

“Thanks for sticking with me.”

“But we’re on for this weekend, right? You, me, and Belize?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Our connection was broken by the wait staff, who brought our second course amid a flurry of trays and groveling and manners. We moved on to steak and salmon, and our conversation moved from Jillian the Difficult to Christmas and whose family would be blessed with our presence.

But it didn’t leave my mind. I watched him cut his steak, look in my eyes and listen to me, take occasional sips of his beer. And I thought of Jillian. I understood protectiveness. I felt the emotion where Brant was concerned—a fierce need to protect what was mine. The problem for Jillian was that he was
mine
. Not hers. An aunt didn’t have any property to protect, no claim over which to assert her dominance. And it was too late. I had him—had never been so sure of anything in my life.

I was a stupid, self-assuming girl. Sitting at that table? Smug in my confidence of my ownership? I’d never been so wrong. I didn’t have him. I only owned half of him. The other half? It was living a life I knew nothing about.

Brant

I have been with a hundred women, but never loved one until her. I could be with a thousand more and never find another Layana. She is beautiful, classy, but with a sharp edge that defines her personality, a thread of dark that complements all of her light. One that will cut you should you cross her. One that will fight for her wants, her needs, her opinions. She stares in my eyes and loves me with a vehemence all her own. A scary, passionate type of love. One that rips away all pretenses and allows us to love each other bare and without consequence.

I understand that my parents are scared. That Jillian fights against Layana with claws out, terrified that her involvement in my life will cause a repeat of the past. But I am stronger now. A man, not the boy of before. I’ve never felt so in control, so grounded. Maybe it’s from the medication, maybe it’s from maturity. But I’m not gonna risk it; I’ll continue the medication until the day I die. It balances me. It keeps my relationship with Layana safe. With its help, she will never know.