The Lie That Traps (Lies and Truths Book 1)

32. Gulliver

GULLIVER

Watching my Ghost fight the things she’s feeling for me is fucking painful. I can see the longing in her eyes, but she’s denying herself, and I don’t know why.

Climbing out of the limo, I turn around and reach for her, offering her my hand to help her out. I’m expecting her to refuse, but she takes my hand without arguing, letting me steady her as she gracefully emerges from the car. The guys all climb out after her, and we move as a group. Izzy gripped possessively beneath my arm, with Kip and Thorn on her right and Davis on my left.

The line for the club is around the block, but we barely spare it a glance as we head straight for the entrance, pausing when we reach the roped-off doors so Kip can step forward to give the doorman our names.

“Miss Rhodes, gentleman, right this way, please,” he says, lifting the rope and stepping aside so we can walk past him.

Stepping forward, Davis takes the lead, and I guide Izzy in front of me with a hand at the base of her spine. “You ready for this?” I ask her.

“No,” she says quietly.

Laughing, I lift my hand from her back and palm her nape, rubbing my thumb back and forth reassuringly, enjoying the way her tense muscles relax beneath my touch.

When we reach the club-appointed greeter, she politely asks us to wait while the guests ahead of us traverse the red carpet.

“Are we all going in as a group?” Davis asks quietly enough that the greeter can’t hear.

I nod. “Izzy in the middle.” Looking at each of my friends in turn, I wait for them to nod their understanding, feeling my anxiety settle the moment I’m confident we’re all on the same page. When we agreed to help Izzy, we were all motivated by guilt, but it’s about so much more than that now. Izzy might not fully believe it yet, but she’s one of us. We want her to get her revenge, and we’ll do whatever we need to to help her.

“We’re ready for you now,” the greeter informs us.

Nodding, Davis steps forward, glancing over his shoulder and winking at Izzy as he steps onto the carpet. Bracing my hand on Izzy’s back, I urge her forward, but instead of moving, she reaches behind her and wraps her hand around mine, entwining our fingers together and squeezing tightly.

Fighting to hide my grin, I take the lead, and she follows behind me. When we step onto the carpet, pausing in front of the banner that’s plastered with the club’s logo, a sea of photographers shout for our attention.

These aren’t common celebrity paps; they’re the photographers who make their money taking pictures of the mega-rich playboys and wealthy socialites that call this town home. They know who we are, and I even recognize some of them from galas and events I’ve attended in the past.

“Penelope, Penelope, this way,” one of them shouts.

“Wrong twin,” Kip says loud enough to be heard over the roar of the paps calling our names.

“Twin?” another photographer shouts.

Opening my mouth, I prepare to tell them who she is, but she beats me to it. Pressing herself close to me, she rests her hand on my chest and stares up at me adoringly. A seductive grin curves across her lips before she turns and addresses the clambering hoard of cameras. “I’m sure you all know my twin sister, Penelope, but I don’t think you’ll have heard of me. My name is Izabella Rhodes, and although I’ve been out of the spotlight for a few years, recently something happened that’s persuaded me to step back into the limelight.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I call loudly enough to be heard. “Let me introduce you to my fiancée.” I spin her in my arms so her ring finger is visible to the cameras as I lift her hand to my lips and kiss it. Giggling like a fucking starlet, she throws her arms around my neck, rises up onto her tiptoes, and presses her lips to mine.

The shouts of the photographers become a cacophony of noise, the voices melding together until they’re nothing more than one long scream. When Izzy pulls back, she curls herself around my body while the guys all crowd around us, and we take picture after picture, letting the world know that she might be mine but that the guys all have her back too.

The wealth, prosperity, and influence that our group will yield the moment we come of age is something no one who understands our world can ignore, and the fact that it’s Izabella in my arms, not Penelope, is going to set our world alight.

By the time the hostess leads us into the VIP area, the noise of the club feels quiet in comparison to the frenzy of the red carpet. Pulling out a chair at a high table, I help Izzy onto the seat, resting my hand on the back of her neck and massaging the tension from her muscles. “Champagne to celebrate, or cocktails to really celebrate?” I ask when a server arrives to take our drink order.

“Cocktails,” Davis says, listing off exactly how he’d like his Manhattan to be made.

“What do you want to drink, Ghostie?” I ask Izzy, making a show of tipping her chin so I can see her face.

“Ghostie?” she questions, arching her brow.

“You don’t like it? I think it’s cute.”

Rolling her eyes, she scoffs. “I’ll have a Long Island iced tea, please. The one Kip made me earlier was delicious.”

Kip and Thorn order their own drinks, and I ask for an Old Fashioned before the server quickly disappears into the crowd. “So how was it?” I whisper against Izzy’s ear.

“Loud,” she replies with a small smile tipping at the corner of her lips.

“You were great,” Kip praises, interrupting our intimate moment.

It’s obvious that my buddy has a thing for my Ghost, but he needs to fucking stop. Kip might be my friend, but she’s mine, and if I have to, I’ll do whatever’s necessary to remind him of that.

The server returns and hands us our drinks while Izzy smiles sweetly, thanking them before they disappear again. I watch as she takes a sip, then I take the glass from her hand and place it on the table. Twisting our fingers together, I pull her from her seat. “Come dance with me.”

She doesn’t fail to hide her hesitancy, but she still lets me lead her to the dance floor that’s just beyond the roped-off VIP section. Pulling her into me, I wrap my arm around her back, and we’re immediately swallowed by the crowd of people dancing around us. I don’t recognize the song the DJ’s playing, but as the bass pounds and the beat guides our bodies, we sway together, lost in the bubble of intimacy we’ve found amid the chaos.

When she lifts her arms and wraps them around the back of my neck, I slide one of my legs between hers and grind my thigh against the seam of the tiny black shorts she’s wearing. Our torsos are pressed together so close that I hear it when a moan slips from her parted lips. Using my fingertip, I tilt her chin up and hover my lips an inch from hers.

“Kiss me,” I dare her. “Not because people are watching, not because it’s part of the act. Kiss me because your pussy is wet and needy. Kiss me because you want to. Kiss me because you want me.”

It feels like hours, not seconds, before she lifts up and presses her lips against mine, but once she does, I kiss her back like she’s the only thing I can see in the world. We keep dancing for several more songs until the sounds of her moans are louder in my ears than the music that’s blasting around us. When my dick is so hard I can barely think, I pull her from the dance floor and back into the VIP area, holding her in front of me to hide my very visible arousal.

The high table the hostess showed us to when we arrived is empty, but I spot the guys sitting at a larger table surrounded by several more of our friends. When I guide her toward it, her steps slow and she glances back at me with uncertainty.

“No more hiding,” I remind her.

Nodding, she inhales a slow, steady breath, then pulls back her shoulders and dons her Penelope mask, strutting over to the table and confidently lowering herself into an empty seat.

Tightness tugs at something in my chest as I follow her, scooping her out of the chair and settling her in my lap instead. Watching her fake confidence is almost harder than watching her struggle with the need to retreat and hide. I hate that she has to put on an act, but I despise the fact that she pretends to be her sister when she does it even more.

Her parents and sister stripped her of her own identity for years, but I’m confident that the girl I’m obsessively attracted to is the real Izzy, because nothing about how she behaves when she’s with us has ever felt fake. I just wish that she could see how fucking awesome she is and not feel like she has to act like a completely different person when she’s in a social situation like this.

Leaning forward, I press a kiss to her shoulder and feel some of her tension dissolve. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I lean back, and she relaxes into me, accepting the protection and reassurance I’m offering her.

We order drinks when the server arrives, then sit cuddled together in comfortable silence while the others chat and laugh around us. Her bare skin is a temptation that proves impossible to resist, and I kiss her neck, her shoulders, and the tops of her arms before I pull her mouth to mine and claim her lips in a teasing kiss.

Turning to face me more fully, Izzy wiggles, rubbing her perfect ass over my hard dick, and my pained groan gets swallowed up by our kisses. Nipping her lower lip with my teeth, I pull away from her just far enough to speak. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to have to take you to the bathroom, bend you over, and fuck you over the sink.”

I feel the way her lips curve into a grin, and I can’t help smiling back. The server delivers us more drinks, and I hand Izzy her cocktail while I take a sip of my own. Our entire table is underage, but a perk of being young, wealthy, and recognizable is that rules like legal drinking age limits just don’t apply to us.

Leaning forward to place my glass on the table, I find Richie Pullsworth—a guy from school—eyeing Izzy speculatively. “You’ve met my fiancée, Izzy, haven’t you, Richie?”

Tilting so far forward he almost falls out of his seat, Richie reaches for Izzy’s hand, dramatically lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I haven’t had the privilege, no. I’m Richard Pullsworth.”

“Izabella Rhodes,” Izzy replies politely, immediately pulling her hand free of his touch and entangling her fingers back with mine at her waist.

“So there really are two of you,” he asks, in his affected Yankie accent, eyeing her like she’s a piece of meat.

“That’s what happens with twins.” She shrugs.

Stifling a laugh, I bury my face in her shoulder. “Has everyone else met Izzy?” I ask loudly, still smirking.

For the next couple of hours, my Ghost charms everyone. She dances with Kip, Thorn, then Davis before I push them out of the way and wrap myself around her, asking her to kiss me again and again, always pushing it to be her choice, forcing her to admit that she wants me just as much as I want her.

The sun is starting to rise in the sky by the time Izzy and I climb back into the limo. The guys were all ready to leave too, but my dick’s been hard for hours, and there’s no way I can keep my hands to myself until we get home.

The moment we’re settled onto the seat, with the door closed behind us, I grab the remote and close the privacy screen. Dragging her into my lap, I position her so she’s straddling me and collar her throat with my fingers.

“I want you,” I growl.

Tangling my fingers into the hair at the back of her head, I hold her in place while I devour her, kissing her like it’s the last chance I’ll ever get.

“Izzy, tell me what you want,” I order, needing her to admit that she wants this as much as I do.

Her pupils are blown wide, her lips kiss-swollen, but she still pauses for a moment, her tongue dipping out to wet her full lower lip. “I…” Her eyes scan my face like she’s searching for something, but she won’t find anything but open, honest want.

“I want you too,” she whispers like she can’t convince herself to say it any louder. But that’s okay, because I only needed to hear the words.

Flipping her until she’s beneath me on the seat, I find the zipper on her shorts and pull it down, sliding them completely off her a moment later. The practically sheer, black lacy thong she’s wearing is pure fucking perfection, and I lick a path along her pussy lips, tasting her arousal through the fabric.

Unfurling her from her shirt is like unwrapping the best fucking gift that only gets better when her perfect fucking tits are revealed. Sucking her nipple into my mouth, I scrape my teeth over the sensitive peak, relishing in the mewling gasp she makes. Parting her thighs, I slide my fingers between her legs, cupping her pussy, and feeling the wetness that’s soaking the scrap of lace. Her mind might not be entirely convinced about us, but her wet, dripping cunt tells me everything I need to know.

I know I should stop this now. I should wait until we get home, but I can’t. Now that she’s admitted she wants this…me, I can’t wait any longer. My fingers tear through the sheer fabric with ease, and I run my fingers along her sex, coating them in her juices, before I slide two slowly into her pussy. She parts her legs instinctively, moving her hips in time with my hand as I fuck her with my fingers until she’s bucking against my palm, gasping, and calling my name.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” I ask, my voice barely a rasp as her wide-eyed gaze finds me. “Do you want it hard and fast, or slow and deep?”

“Both,” she moans wantonly, her hands frantically pulling at my shirt.

Dragging my fingers from inside of her, I slide one wet tip along her full, pouty bottom lip. “Taste how sweet you are.”

Her tongue tentatively licks across her lip, and I smile, shrugging off my shirt so her eager hands can touch my bare chest. “You’re a fucking dream,” I rasp, kissing the taste of her pussy off her lips. “I want you to come all over my fingers again, then I’m going to eat your pussy until you scream. The moment we get home, I’m going to fuck you until one of us passes out.”

Her nod is wildly enthusiastic, and I’m smiling when I dip down to kiss her again. Stripping her ruined panties down her legs, I part her folds and tease her entrance, dipping a finger into her sex before sliding it out again. Adding a second finger, I push both into her, groaning at the way her wetness tightens around me. Finding her clit with my thumb, I start to rub slow circles over her sensitive bundle of nerves, until her back arches off the seat and she lets out a long, whining moan.

“Do you like that, Ghost?”

Nodding, she reaches for my head, dragging my mouth to hers. Our kiss is frantic, our tongues rubbing together while I fuck her pussy and rub her clit until she comes with a scream, clamping her legs together and trapping my wrist, keeping my fingers deep inside of her.

Before she has a chance to come down from her orgasm, I drop to my knees on the floor of the limo, part her legs, and lick the aftershocks of her release from her cunt. Her taste is sweet and addictive, and it doesn’t take long for her hips to start rolling, pushing herself into my face.

Flicking at her clit with the tip of my tongue, I lick a path down her cunt to her asshole, enjoying the way she writhes, lost to the pleasure I’m giving her, and when she comes again, the sound is ragged and deliciously wanton.

When the limo slows to a stop, I reluctantly help her pull her shorts and top back on, lifting her into my arms and carrying her straight upstairs to my room. Once we’re inside, I lower her to her feet beside my bed, then take a step back, enjoying the sight of her disheveled and debauched.

“Gulliver.”

My name on her lips is almost desperate, but there’s a hint of uncertainty that I fucking hate. Closing the distance between us, I drag her to me, forcing her head back with my fingers in her hair, and kiss her until her entire body melts and she gives herself over to me completely.

When she pulls away, a mischievous gleam flashes in her eyes. Lifting her hands, she pushes my shirt off my shoulders, running her fingers over my arms and pushing the sleeves down until the fabric flutters to the floor at our feet.

Her fingers move back to my tattoo, and she traces the outline of the bird, following the feathers along the wing to where it ends on the side of my neck. Leaning, she presses a soft kiss to the spot, then focuses her attention on my jeans, quickly unfastening the buttons and pushing the denim over my butt, revealing the large bulge tenting my boxer briefs.

Sliding her hand beneath the elastic, she palms my dick, tentatively exploring my hard length until she runs the pad of her thumb over the head, forcing a guttural groan to fall from my lips.

“I need you, Ghost,” I tell her.

Her gaze lifts, and for a long moment we just stare at each other, like we’re waiting for the other to change their mind. When she finally nods, our hands become frantic as she shoves my briefs down while I strip her of her shorts and shirt.

Once we’re both fully naked, I lift her up and carry her to the bed with her legs wound around my waist. Crawling onto the mattress, I lower her back down, cupping her cheek and kissing her, before I reach down and guide my cock to her entrance.

I fuck her the way I should have the first time, slowly filling her and watching the way her chest hitches when my cock finds that spot that makes a jolt of pleasure surge to life inside of her.

Grabbing her hips, I tilt her until the head of my cock is grinding over her G-spot every time I thrust into her. Lips parted, she tips her head back and arches off the bed, her body tensing and relaxing until she comes with a silent scream. Her cunt clamps down, gripping me so tightly I can barely move. I come seconds later, pumping my release into her before I collapse onto her chest, pressing my face into the hollow at the base of her neck.

When my eyes blink open, sunlight is shining around the edges of the drapes, and Izzy’s naked body is wrapped around mine. I don’t know what time it is, but just like I promised, we fucked over and over until she passed out, too exhausted to take anymore.