The Lie That Traps (Lies and Truths Book 1)

18. Gulliver

GULLIVER

When she closes the door in my face, I stare shell-shocked at the wood, actually kind of impressed by her anger. At first glance, Izzy appears to be meek, her silence hiding the fiery backbone that she suppresses behind her watered-down Penelope persona. But once you take the time to notice, she and her sister might actually be the polar opposites of each other. If she didn’t hate me because I’m being an unmitigated asshole to her and using her purely for my own agenda, I think we could maybe be friends.

Not that my thoughts about her are particularly friendly. It’s still odd to me that I’m so repulsed by Penelope, but the moment I’m near Izzy, my body roars to life, and I’m fighting the urge to impale her with my cock and carry her around so the whole world can see exactly who she belongs to and whose ring she has on her finger.

It’s kind of messed up, especially after the way I threatened her earlier. But I don’t want Izzy to hate me. She kisses me back like she’s consumed by me, and part of me wants that to be the truth. But the only reason she’s playing along with the fa?ade I’ve orchestrated is because I haven’t given her a fucking choice.

From the moment I found out Izzy existed, I’ve known there’s something more to the way her family treats her. I don’t believe the bullshit lie about her being an introvert who chooses not to socialize, and after the dismissive and angry way they spoke and looked at her tonight, I’m absolutely certain that there’s much more to their family’s dysfunctional relationship than what I’ve discovered so far.

I wasn’t sure how she’d react when I threatened to tell her family our fake engagement was her idea. But the horror-stricken fear, followed by the resolved submission in her eyes, was enlightening. In an instant, she gave me the key to garner complete control over her, and it’s both empowering and fucking sickening.

Izzy shouldn’t be cowering to me because I threatened to tell her family a far-fetched lie, but she is. Tonight, Penelope paled in comparison to Izzy, and I know I wasn’t the only person who noticed. The Rhodeses have forced Izzy into her sister’s shadow, but tonight proved that all it takes is a pretty dress and for people to actually look at Izzy to make it abundantly clear that the inheritance is the only attractive thing about Penelope.

Izzy is the real star, shining brightly while she drank beer straight from the bottle, wearing bright red lipstick, and looking like a walking wet dream. She’s not polished or coached, she’s just authentic and sexy, and…my dick aches. Reaching down, I adjust myself again, wondering if blue balls is an actual medical condition or just a state of mind.

I’ve been hard all night, and even though a part of me knows I should dislike Izzy simply because she’s a Rhodes, I honestly don’t remember the last time I wanted to fuck someone as much as I want to fuck her.

Staring at the closed door for another moment, I wonder if she’s getting naked on the other side. My dick gives another jerk of encouragement, and I fantasize about turning the handle and letting myself into her room to find out how she looks bared and exposed for me.

I asked our housekeeper to go and buy something for her to sleep in, but now I wish I’d given her one of my shirts so I could picture her naked body covered only by my clothes.

Slowly, I back away from the door and head to my own room across the hallway, silently telling my dick to calm the fuck down. Because as hot as she might be and as much as I want to brand her with my dick in her tight heat, I can’t fuck her. This is all just a game, and fucking her would make this far too real. I can’t have her getting attached to me and then refusing to walk away at graduation. Whatever this is I’m feeling for her, needs to stay controlled and platonic. The reason I’m doing all of this is to make sure I never end up tied to that fucked-up family, and as good as it might feel to bend her over the end of my bed and watch her ass bounce as I slam my cock into her from behind, waving goodbye to the Rhodeses completely in six months’ time will feel much better.

Closing my door, I strip out of my clothes and drop them into the hamper before I slide naked beneath my sheets. I start to relax the moment my back hits the mattress, and I cup my hands behind my head and stare up at my ceiling, a satisfied smile spreading across my face. Today has been fucking epic. In twelve short hours, I’ve untangled myself from Penelope’s evil clutches, got my dad off my back, and managed to convince an entire room full of people that I’m in love with a girl I only found out existed less than a week ago.

I’m a motherfucking genius. I’m also rock-hard. Sliding my hand beneath the sheets, I palm my aching cock, gripping it tightly. I’m eighteen years old, my dick is hard about fifty percent of the time I’m awake, and even though I know I probably shouldn’t be thinking about jerking off when Izzy is just across the hall, I’m not masochistic enough to try to fall asleep hard instead of relieving some of my pent-up tension.

Leaning over to my bedside cabinet, I slide open the top drawer and pull out the bottle of lube I keep in there. I usually prefer a willing mouth or wet hole to my hand, but for the next few months, I’ll need to keep my extracurriculars on the down-low. I know Izzy won’t give a fuck if I’m getting my dick sucked, but appearances are everything, and I’ll just look like a douche if I’m caught cheating on my fiancée.

Flipping back the comforter, I squirt a generous amount of lube onto my cock and start to slowly coat my length in it, sliding my fist up and down firmly. Closing my eyes, I try to envision the dirtiest fuck I’ve ever had, but instead, images of Izzy keep popping into my mind. I’ve never seen her naked, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining her spread eagle on my bed, her legs wide, her cunt on display, her puffy lips coated in my cum that’s slowly dripping out of her. The image is depraved and wrong and so fucking hot. Her eyes are wide and full of that same kind of furious submission she flashed when I threatened her, her lips kiss-swollen and begging to be bitten.

Working my fist faster now, the image changes, and instead I’m pinning her against the wall the same way I was earlier. Only this time we’re both naked, and instead of collaring her throat, I force her to her knees and coat her pouty mouth with my precum before she swallows me whole, gagging when my dick pushes to the back of her throat.

Hot cum surges out of the head of my cock so quickly, my vision blackens at the edges and my ears buzz. Line after line of my release coats my abs, and by the time I’m finished, I’m breathless and panting.

A knock at my door wakes me up the next morning, and I pull on a clean pair of boxers before I pad over and open it.

“Sir, Fitzwilliam Van De Burg is here,” our housekeeper Beth informs me.

Yawning tiredly, I nod. “Thanks, Beth. He’s here for Izzy. I’ll go and wake her up.”

She nods, then walks away, and I pull a pair of sweats over my boxers and cross the hallway to the room opposite mine where Izzy slept last night. Lifting up my fist, I knock at the door, then wait. When no one answers after a couple of minutes, I knock again, but there’s still no reply. Twisting the handle, I gently push the door open an inch.

“Izzy,” I call into the dark room, before I push the door open a little further and step inside.

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they do, I spot Izzy curled into a ball in the very middle of the huge bed. Her hair is spread out like a halo around her head, and she looks beautiful and fucking tiny.

A sudden surge of guilt hits me, and for a moment I feel bad about this game I’m forcing her to play.

“We’re not actually getting married, so it’s kind of creepy that you’re in here,” she grumbles, her voice croaky and sleep-filled.

“I knocked,” I say dismissively. “You need to get up. Fitzy’s here.”

Groaning, she rolls to her back and stretches like a cat in the bed. The covers fall to her hips, and the top she’s wearing lifts, showing me a glimpse of her smooth stomach. “I need to go home. It’s only going to get worse the longer I stay away. I should go and try to somehow explain all this bullshit you’ve created.”

“Fuck them,” I say indignantly.

She sits up in bed, and her hair falls messily around her shoulders. “Fuck them?” she enunciates slowly. “I live with them. What do you suggest I do? Move in with you for the next six months so I don’t have to deal with all the bullshit lies you word vomited last night?”

I shrug. “You can if you want.”

Her expression becomes incredulous. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know you.”

I shrug again. “The offer still stands if you change your mind, but I’m sure they’ll get over it. Now they can focus on forcing some other idiot to marry your sister and stop wasting time on me.”

Shaking her head, she closes her eyes and rubs at her temples with her fingers. “I need to take a shower. Could you please let Fitzy know I’ll be down in ten minutes?”

“Sure, you want coffee?”

“So much coffee,” she replies, climbing off the bed and flashing me a glimpse of her toned, sexy legs as she crosses the room to the bathroom.

I watch her for a second too long, my dick enthusiastic and waving hello inside of my boxers. Turning, I head for my room and jump in the shower, grabbing my dick and imagining how Izzy would look bent over in nothing but my shirt while I fucked her tight, wet cunt. Less than two minutes later, I watch the water wash my cum away. Quickly shampooing my hair and washing my body, I rush to get dressed and head downstairs.

“Gulliver, darling, all the beautiful clothes that I send you and you still greet me wearing those things,” Fitzy says, motioning to the basketball shorts and tank top I’m wearing.

“I’m going sailing, I’m going to be covered in sweat and salt,” I argue, crossing the room to give my godfather a hug.

“That’s no excuse for looking like a slob. It’s a good thing I bought you something to wear too. Where’s your dad?”

“Golfing, he had an early tee time,” I say, taking the shorts, T-shirt, and lightweight jacket from him and immediately changing. The new outfit he’s bought me is probably what he would classify as nautical chic, but it’s comfortable and lightweight, so I don’t bother to argue. “Izzy’s just taking a shower. She’ll be down in a minute,” I tell him, dropping down into a chair.

“So, tell me about this girl. You’ve never brought anyone to me before,” Fitzy says, lowering himself into the chair across from me and staring at me pointedly.

“She’s my fiancée.”

“She’s what?” Fitzy shrieks.

“She’s my fiancée. We got engaged yesterday,” I tell him, bracing for his reaction.

His laugh sounds like it comes from low in his belly, getting louder as it bubbles up until his eyes are closed and his whole body is vibrating with the sound. “What the hell are you playing at now?” he asks.

“I fell in love and got engaged,” I deadpan.

“So that sweet girl I met yesterday is the Rhodes girl? The one you hate. The one you have been refusing to even entertain the idea of marrying and bitching about constantly for years?” Fitzy cries between giggles.

“No, she’s not.”

Fitzy frowns, cocking his head to the side.

“Penelope Rhodes, the evil, soon-to-be heiress, has a twin sister.”

“You didn’t?” Fitzy hisses.

“Didn’t what?” I ask with an innocent smirk.

“Tell me you didn’t seduce one twin just to get away from marrying the other,” Fitzy asks, his hand dramatically clutching at his suit lapel.

“No, he blackmailed me into it,” a small, sweet voice says from the doorway.

Both Fitzy and I turn to look at Izzy, and she squirms a little under our appraisal. She’s wearing the jean shorts and shirt she had on yesterday, her skin free of makeup and her hair wet from the shower, pulled up into a knot on the top of her head.

“Just kidding?” Izzy says, but it almost sounds like a question.

“That sounds like the kind of despicable thing my godson would do,” Fitzy coos, jumping up from his seat and bounding across the room to pull Izzy into a hug. “Goodness, how is it possible that you’re even more beautiful without a scrap of makeup on?”

Izzy smiles a little unsurely, but lets him pull her farther into the room.

“Gulliver said you needed something to wear sailing today, but well, I got a little carried away, so I thought I’d just pop over here and see what else you might need.”

When he leads Izzy to the far corner of the room, I notice a white changing screen set up against the wall, with a rail of clothes in white garment bags to the side of it. This room is so fucking white that anything in that color blends in like it’s been camouflaged.

“I’m so sorry you came all the way over here. There’s been a change of plans, and I’m not actually going sailing today. I need to go home. There’s been a bit of a family crisis,” Izzy says, lying so effortlessly.

“Well, just try a few things on, then I’ll have the rest delivered to your house,” Fitzy says, hooking his arm through hers and pulling her toward the screen before she has a chance to argue.

Once she’s behind the screen and out of sight, Fitzy charges across the room to where I’m sitting, his hands on his hips as he glares at me angrily. “You blackmailed that girl into getting engaged to you?”

Glancing away guiltily, I shrug. “Sort of.”

“What is wrong with you?” he demands, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“I needed a solution to a problem. She…” I say, gesturing to where Izzy is changing behind the screen, “is the solution.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Dad knows I met Izzy, fell in love, and gave her the Winslow diamond, and you know I haven’t spoken to Mom in well over a year.”

Fitzy’s lips purse together. “And what about Izzy’s family?”

“I’m fairly confident they’re going to kill me,” Izzy says without a hint of amusement as she steps from behind the screen dressed in tiny, fitted navy-blue shorts and a yellow halter-neck top that buttons down the front and hugs her curves perfectly.

My eyes snap to her, and I swallow thickly, ignoring what she just said and focusing on how fucking sexy she looks.

“Izzy, you look hot,” Davis whistles as he walks into the room, followed by a sleepy-looking Thorn and an amused Kip who grins wickedly at Izzy as soon as he spots her.

Fitzy flashes me one last glare, then makes his way over to Izzy, giving her a pair of slip-on boat shoes and a long cardigan that she puts on over the yellow shirt. “I also have a sailing jacket for you in case it gets chilly.”

Izzy nods, letting Fitzy bustle her back behind the screen as Beth appears with carafes of coffee.

“How do you want your coffee?” I call to Izzy as Fitzy hands her the next outfit he’s selected for her.

“Just creamer, please,” she calls back, and I head across the room to make us both a cup. Kip nods at me, holding his own cup as he moves to sit on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen as he absentmindedly sips at his drink.

Beth re-enters the room carrying platters full of food and arranges them on a warming plate in the corner before she disappears again. My stomach growls, and I saunter over to them to see what she’s made. Mounds of fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, and eggs are spread out, and my stomach groans in response.

I make myself a plate, then move back to the couch just as Izzy emerges from behind the screen again in a pale pink sundress. “No,” I snap, and both Fitzy and Izzy turn to look at me.

“No?” Fitzy asks.

“Hell no, that’s…” I trail off, unsure how to diplomatically say she looks too much like her sister in that outfit.

“This is more my sister’s style than mine,” Izzy quietly offers, a sad smile tipping at the corners of her pouty lips.

Fitzy nods, tilts his head to the side, and assesses her. “Okay, go change. I have something that I think you’ll love.”

Izzy disappears again and Fitzy shuffles through the garment bags on the rails, pulling items from a few different bags and handing them off behind the screen.

Lifting my fork, I stab a bite of pancake from my plate and try really hard not to focus on the screen and the fact that I’m pretty sure she’s naked, or almost naked, behind there. Quicker than before, she reappears wearing a wide smile on her face as she looks down at her outfit. She’s wearing denim overalls that finish just above her ankle. They should look ridiculous, but they actually cling to her every curve. Beneath them is a simple white tank top paired with a black leather biker jacket that looks soft and comfortable.

“This, I love this,” Izzy says excitedly, running her hand over the arm of the jacket.

“Okay, I think I get it now. Take that off, and I’ll get the next outfit ready,” Fitzy orders decisively.

“But I love this,” she says, pouting adorably.

Fitzy’s smile is indulgent and soft in a way he very rarely displays. “Don’t worry, you can put it back on later if you want, but I need you to try some other things.”

She sighs, then nods. “Can I at least have my coffee first?”

He agrees and turns to the rail to start pulling items from the bags again.

“Here,” Kip says, jumping up from his seat, grabbing her drink from the coffee table, and handing it to her.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling at him.

A sudden bout of annoyance hits me, and I twist around to glare at one of my oldest and closest friends. I’m not jealous, but I’m definitely feeling something that I’m struggling to identify right now.

Lifting her cup to her lips, Izzy takes a sip, then a second, moaning lightly in pleasure as the rich coffee fills her mouth. “God, real creamer; we only have the stupid, no-fat stuff at home.”

“Come on, darling, we have more to try,” Fitzy calls, and she reluctantly puts her coffee down and dutifully disappears behind the screen again.

I try to focus on my plate of food, ignoring my friends as they make themselves plates and start to eat. They chat about nothing in particular, but my focus is entirely on the changing screen and the girl trying on clothes behind it. Normally the idea of shopping or being in any way involved in the purchasing of clothes would be worse than boring to me, but this fashion show with Izzy as the model is fucking riveting.

My mind is screaming that I should be encouraging her to take off her clothes, not put them on, but the smile on her face each time she appears in a new outfit that is so unlike anything her sister would wear is like a beacon drawing me in.

For the next thirty minutes, she tries skinny jeans that mold to her ass, accentuating how full and round it is. A sexy black dress that’s so short the full length of her legs are on display, somehow both tempting me to lick from her ankle all the way up and pissing me off that anyone else is seeing her looking like that. But outfit after outfit, her smile gets bigger and her presence gets lighter and happier as Fitzy grins and laughs with her.

When she appears in a formal outfit, a gold, fitted crop top and matching long skirt with a slit that goes so high on her thigh I get a glimpse of her black lace panties, I have to ball my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from storming across the room and dragging her away from the hungry-eyed gazes of my asshole friends.

“Fuck,” I hear one of the guys hiss, and I spin around and glare at them all in turn before I try to understand why the fuck I’m getting territorial over a girl who isn’t actually mine, or at least not mine in anything other than this fake engagement I’ve forced her into.

Izzy’s giggle flows across the room, and my anger is forgotten as I turn back to the girl who is messing with my fucking equilibrium. I’ve heard her scoff, I’ve heard her laugh bitterly, but until just now I’ve never heard her giggle, and the sound is so fucking free and uninhibited that it makes something splinter inside of me.

She’s not looking at me, instead, she’s holding on to one of Fitzy’s hands while he twirls her on the spot, the flowy fabric of her skirt floating out around her as she spins, making her look like a fucking society princess. “I haven’t worn formalwear in years, and the last time I did, it was a crinoline nightmare, but this…I want to find a ball to go to just so I can wear this dress,” she exclaims happily.

Words rise unbidden in my throat—the sudden urge to offer to take her to a ball. Hell, I’ll fucking throw one in her honor if she wears that outfit and I get to touch her in it. But I swallow them down because I’m using her and she knows it, and as much as my dick is waving and telling me it’d feel really fucking good if we actually made this desire I’m feeling for her real between us, it’s not, and I need to keep reminding myself of that.

“We need to get going, we’re scheduled to sail in an hour,” I say to the room.

“Go, you don’t need to wait for me. I can just get Mark to come and get me,” Izzy says with a wave of her hand.

“Who the fuck is Mark?” Kip growls, and I turn angry eyes on him. What the hell does he think he’s doing getting fucking possessive over my fiancée?

“My driver,” Izzy tells him, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’ll take you home later. You’re coming out with us now,” I growl, shocking myself a little. With the way my dick is behaving around her, I really should just let her go, but honestly, I don’t fucking want to. I want her to come with us. I want to see her relax and have fun, and more than that, I don’t want her to leave.

“I can’t…my mom and dad, Penelope,” she says shakily.

“Will still be there later, and honestly, what difference is a few more hours going to make? You’re coming with us, then I’ll do what I can to smooth things over with your family later.”

“I,” she starts.

“The outfit I picked for you to wear today is too cute not to be used,” Fitzy says, winking at Izzy as he passes her the shorts and yellow top he had her try on first this morning.

“I,” she says again.

“You’re coming,” I snap, sharpening my tone, so she knows I’m not willing to bend on this. “Get changed, I’ll make you a plate.”

Her eyes flash, then that unwilling submission clouds her gaze, and I’m not sure if her doing what I tell her to is what’s making my dick even harder, or if I’m so fucking desperate for her that simply knowing she’ll be with me for the rest of the day is what has my balls aching and begging for release.