The Lie That Traps (Lies and Truths Book 1)

34. Gulliver

GULLIVER

Silencing my alarm for the third time, I palm Izzy’s breast, toying with her nipple until she starts to wake up. “Good morning, Little Ghost,” I rasp against her ear, sliding my palm down the front of her body until I’m cupping her hot core.

Without me asking, she parts her legs for me, softly gasping when I rub my finger over her clit.

“Gulliver.”

“What do you need, Ghost?”

Pushing a finger into her heat, I still, needing her to feel a little of the desperate want I woke up with.

“Gulliver,” she rasps, still sleepy.

“What do you need? Tell me…do you want my fingers, my tongue, or my dick?”

“Yes,” she mewls, arching her back and rubbing herself against me.

“Yes?” I chuckle softly.

“Yes. All of it. I want everything.”

In these moments when nothing exists but us, she’s so fucking confident and sure of herself. But as soon as the lust fades, I can see the doubt in her eyes, and I don’t know what to say or do to convince her that this isn’t a fucking game anymore.

“More,” she demands when my hand stops moving.

Circling my thumb, I close my eyes and inhale, filling my senses with her subtle rose scent. Sliding my finger from her cunt, I lift her leg and position it on top of my thigh, spreading her wide. Running my fingers through her folds, I dip two fingers into her entrance, then pull them out, pushing them further each time until her wetness is coating my knuckles and she’s rolling her hips, fucking herself on my hand.

With her head thrown back, she’s a fucking vision as she chases the pleasure I’m teasing her with. “Please,” she whines.

Grabbing her hand, I guide it between her legs, urging her to penetrate herself while I control her. “That’s it, Little Ghost. I want to watch you fuck yourself, show me how good it feels.”

Her movements are tentative, like she’s not sure what to do or how she should touch herself. Gliding my hand over the top of hers, I move her fingers for her, pushing one, then two into her sex and watching as she bites her lip, her breathing going shallow as I help her fuck herself.

“How does it feel? Is it as good as when my fingers are inside of you?”

“I want…you,” she rasps. “Your fingers.”

“I’ll give you anything,” I promise earnestly, pushing my own finger into her cunt alongside her two. Gripping her hand tightly, I move her fingers with my own, forcing her to fuck herself in long, hard strokes.

“More,” she gasps, and I push another finger into her, stretching her wide, until she comes with a cry, her hips jerking, her cunt gushing with arousal that runs down my fingers to soak my hand and wrist.

“Fucking perfect,” I growl, guiding her hand from between her legs and up to my mouth. Sucking her fingers between my lips, I lick the taste of her cum off her skin, savoring the flavor like it’s fucking nectar.

“Need you,” I mumble.

When she nods, I roll her to her stomach and spread her legs. Lifting her hips, I position her on her knees with her upper body and cheek still pressed to the bed. Palming my cock, I guide it to her entrance and fill her in a single hard thrust that forces a shocked whine from her lips.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” I rasp. “Your cunt is so fucking tight.” Holding her hips, I start to rock into her, dragging her onto my cock as I thrust up to meet her.

It’s dirty and sweaty and intense. I don’t tease her or edge her orgasm to the surface then deny it. I’m too close to release to do anything but fuck her hard and fast, until she tumbles over the edge. Her pussy clamps down on my cock like a vise, and she mewls, turning her face into the pillow to muffle the sound of her garbled cry.

I follow her into oblivion, slamming into her one last time before I hold her hips in place and fill her with my cum. It still fucking amazes me that she was a virgin only a few days ago. I’ve fucked virgins before, their eyes full of stars, candles, and romance. But Izzy shrugged off her virginity like it was nothing. The sex with her is out of this world amazing. She’s not cautious or scared; she just seems to want to experience everything, and I’m more than happy to oblige her.

She’s quickly become my new obsession because I’ve realized that Izabella Rhodes is fucking perfect. In the last week, I’ve learned that she’s playful and funny, she’s loyal to a fault, and she’s quite possibly the most beautiful, intelligent, intriguing person I’ve ever met. If I’d known she existed before last week, I’d have stalked her until she was mine, because she’s the type of girl I could never grow bored with.

I want her, and not for a night or a week or even six months. I want to keep her indefinitely. Around her, I’m possessive and jealous of the glances she gives to my friends. Because even when she’s in my lap and I’ve got my hands touching her, I want more.

We shared a bed last night because the thought of her sleeping alone in the room opposite mine feels unthinkable. My body craves her, my dick is obsessed with her, and my mind is fucking consumed by her, but even if she never let me touch her sexually again, I’d still want to be close to her.

All of this started as a fuck you to the Rhodeses, but somehow this messed up joke resulted in me and my friends becoming completely enamored with my beautiful fake fiancée. Last night, she charmed the hell out of my dad, and I’m pretty sure he’s almost as besotted with his future daughter-in-law as I am. He never asked her about the bruises that still cover her face, and I think she forgot they’re even still visible. But when he pulled me aside, I told him the truth—that her parents weren’t happy about our engagement and attacked her.

I know she won’t be happy about that, that’s the one truth I’m willing to disclose, but I needed to make sure he didn’t let her family convince him to send her home. If I have anything to do with it, she’ll never set foot in that house again.

Trailing my fingers idling along her spine, I slowly slide my cock out of her and roll to my side. Her chest is still heaving, and her breathy pants make a soft smile tip at my lips. “You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she rasps, turning to face me. “I really like that position.”

Chuckling, I reach up and palm the side of her neck, resting my thumb over her fluttering pulse. “Me too. I wish we could stay in bed a little longer, but we have to get up. Yolanda will be here soon.”

“Urgh,” she groans. “I’m not ready to deal with real life.”

“It’s all going to be okay, but if you need a distraction, let me know. There are plenty of classrooms where I can bend you over a desk,” I tease.

“Gulliver,” she gasps, but she looks almost as intrigued as she does scandalized.

“Do you like that idea, Little Ghost? Does the thought of me pulling up your school skirt and fucking you over a desk turn you on?” I ask, dragging her to me until my hardening dick is sliding between her wet folds.

A knock at the door makes Izzy tense, and I sigh, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before I climb out of bed and pad naked across the room. “What?” I bark, cupping my junk, then opening the door just far enough to see Beth standing in the hallway.

“Oh, Mr. Winslow. I…” she stutters, clearly not expecting to see me half-naked and opening the door. “Miss Izabella’s hair and makeup artist is here,” she says quickly, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Thank you. Ask her to set up in the den, we’ll be down in a few minutes,” I say curtly. Closing the door, I turn, hoping to crawl back into bed, but Izzy is already up and heading to the bathroom.

“You could always send Yolanda away and go into school smelling like sex and looking freshly fucked,” I tease, striding to her and kissing her quickly.

“Well, that would definitely make an impression, but no.” She laughs, flashing me a seductive wink over her shoulder as she rushes into the bathroom.

When she wanders into the dining room an hour later, she looks radiant. The GAA uniform is pretty unexciting, but today I’m seeing it in a new light. Every other time I’ve seen her dressed for school, she’s worn a fitted, knee-length version of the plaid uniform skirt with her blouse and blazer. Today, she’s wearing a pinafore dress with a short, flippy skirt and thigh-high socks. She’s still wearing a blazer, but the sleeves have been folded back, and somehow, she’s turned a dowdy green uniform into something sexy. Yolanda’s styled her hair into messy waves, with some of it pulled into a half ponytail on top of her head that looks perky and cute. Her makeup is subtle and natural, apart from the bright red lipstick that’s staining her lips. The red color is defiant and outspoken and a visible “fuck you” to Penelope. And I fucking love it. When she starts to walk past me, I grab her arm, pull her off balance, and drag her into my lap, slamming my lips to hers.

When I reluctantly pull back, her eyes are wide as she glances at my dad, who is watching us with amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“Izzy, sweetheart, what would you like for breakfast? Beth’s eggs are amazing, and I know she made a batch of waffles,” Dad asks her, his smile soft and full of newly discovered affection.

“That sounds amazing, I’m starving,” she confesses, swatting away my hands and climbing out of my lap to sit in the chair next to mine.

“Do you want coffee, Little Ghost?” I ask her, rising from my chair and grabbing the pot of coffee that’s already waiting on the side.

“Yes, please.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, please, I’ll have another. Excuse me for a moment, I’m going to go and let Beth know what Izzy wants to eat, then I’ll be right back,” Dad says, pushing away from the table.

“I can do that,” Izzy protests, but Dad waves her off.

Pouring coffee into a mug, I add creamer, then carry it to the table and place it in front of her. “Thank you,” she says sweetly, immediately reaching for her cup and sighing when the hot liquid touches her lips.

Grabbing the pot, I refill mine and Dad’s mugs, handing his to him when he strides back into the room.

“Beth was making bacon. I told her to put some on your waffles, sweetheart,” he tells Izzy.

“Thank you, Mr. Winslow.”

“None of that formality, call me Donovan or Dad.”

Izzy blushes, her cheeks heating until they’re almost the same color as her lipstick. I decide to save her from any further embarrassment, despite how cute she is when she’s off balance like this.

“We’re all riding in Thorn’s limo today,” I tell her.

“Oh, do I have time for breakfast then? What time are they getting here?” she asks, still flustered.

“Of course you have time to eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Dad says, and I smile, thinking of all the times he’s said the exact same thing to me.

Beth delivers our breakfast, and we fall into a comfortable silence as we eat. It’s bizarre how well Izzy fits in with all of us. I’m obsessed, the guys are enamored, and Dad’s enthralled. She’s so fucking easy to be around, and it terrifies me how much I’m coming to take her presence for granted, even after only a week.

When the guys arrive, they all pile into the dining room, helping themselves to coffee while we finish eating. “Izzy, you look hot as hell, ready for your grand entrance?” Davis asks with a laugh, dipping down to press a kiss on her cheek and stealing a piece of bacon from her plate.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, swatting his hand away when he tries to take another piece. “I have a feeling I’m going to spend a lot of time showing people the rock today, though,” she says humorlessly between bites of food.

“You could just walk around with your finger in the air,” I suggest.

Without saying a word, she turns and flashes me her middle finger, and everyone, including my dad, laughs.

After Izzy and I grab our bags, we make our way to Thorn’s limo that’s waiting at the curb. Although it’s not uncommon to see limos and town cars at school, Thorn usually prefers to drive himself, but we all fit into the limo a lot more comfortably than we do in his Mercedes. Pausing by the door, I wait for Izzy to climb in first, then follow, sliding next to her on the long bench seat. “Did you see the article yet?” I ask, pulling her into my side.

TheNew York Times article about us was published yesterday, but we all agreed to enjoy the evening and wait until today to read it.

“I’m not sure I want to,” she whispers, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. Reaching out, I pull her plump, red lip free with my thumb, then lean forward and press a soft kiss against her mouth.

“Here,” Kip says, interrupting the quiet moment between us to hand Izzy his cell with the article and photographs open on the screen.

Slowly, she drags her gaze from mine, taking the offered cell and looking down. The pictures show the world everything I’ve been trying to tell her. That this all might have started off being fake, but I stopped pretending even before we found her at the hotel.

She looks radiant and absolutely fucking perfect in every single picture. From the princess-worthy red gown to her bare feet with red painted toes, everything about her is so unequivocally Izzy that there’s no way she could ever be mistaken for her sister.

The photos of the five of us playing around in the fountain—Izzy’s white gown soaking wet, her smile wide and genuine—are utter brilliance, and I already emailed the editor of TheNew York Times to ask for copies of all of the pictures.

I want to remember that day, to remember the way she laughed and played—so free and so beautiful. I want to remember the way she looked at me and how it felt to hold her while I told the world she was mine.

“I look like Penelope,” she whispers, her voice a little sad.

“No, you look like you, and even if they put her in identical clothes and took the exact same pictures, she’d be nothing but a lackluster copy,” I tell her, feeling the truth of my words down to my very soul.

The closer we get to school, the more tense and withdrawn Izzy gets. The guys do their best to make her laugh and dilute some of the tension that’s pouring from her in waves, but I can tell by the way she’s as rigid as a board that she’s nervous.

Her toe is tapping anxiously on the floor by the time we slow to a stop at the bottom of the school steps and wait for the driver to open the door. The guys file out first, and I turn and palm Izzy’s cheek. “We’ve got this,” I assure her, dropping my hand and climbing out.

The moment I’m standing on the sidewalk, I hold my hand out for her to take. When she doesn’t hesitate to slide her fingers into mine, I squeeze, rubbing my thumb over the huge Winslow diamond as I help her from the car.

The guys and I might be Elite, but we’ve never bothered with making grand entrances or flaunting our social status. But today, that’s exactly what we’re doing, and everyone stops and stares at us as I drape my arm over her shoulder, and she lifts her left hand, entwining her fingers with mine, so her large engagement ring is clearly on display.

Just like we planned, the guys take their positions on either side of us, and we move as a group. forcing everyone to rush out of the way as we climb the stairs. The whole thing is kind of ridiculous, but this entire spectacle is about making sure everyone sees Izzy and understands her new status. She isn’t the recluse sister of Penelope Rhodes anymore; now she’s my fiancée and GAA’s newest Elite.

I spot Penelope holding court at the top of the steps. Her glare is glacial, but I look away, waiting for the crowd of kids to swell around us. Scanning the excited hoard, I spot the half-dozen kids Kip organized, ready to record our announcement with their cell phones in the air and pointed at us.

“Fellow Green Acres Academy students,” I call out loudly.

The noise of the crowd reduces. “Gulliver, Thorn, Kip, and I proudly accepted the mantle of becoming your senior Elites this year. We love this school, and we love all of you too. But recently we realized the Elite was missing something,” Davis announces confidently.

A rumble of uncertainty vibrates through the group, and I glance at Davis, flashing him a smirk.

“Being Elite is about more than being popular. It’s about being someone that you guys can all look up to. It’s about setting the tone for the year and keeping the school in order while having as much fun as we can,” Kip says, grinning when whoops of excitement fill the air.

“Elites have always had the ability to ask people to serve with us, but the four of us are more than friends and Elites. We’re family,” Thorn says.

“But recently, our family got a little bigger.” I glance down at the girl at my side. “Some of you were here last Friday when I asked this beautiful woman to marry me, and she agreed to do me the honor of becoming my wife.” There’s more cheering and whooping, but I lift my hand into the air, and the volume lowers. “Well, it only seems fitting that because she’s joined our family in real life, that she join our Elite family here at GAA too. So without further ado, I present your newest Elite. Miss Izabella Rhodes.”

There’s a charged moment of silence that suddenly morphs into a roar of applause that’s so loud it’s almost deafening. When the five of us discussed making Izzy part of the Elite, she wasn’t on board with the idea. She argued that it would be blatant nepotism and that she’d never spoken to any of the kids from school, so it wasn’t right to bring her into a GAA tradition. But we all disagreed. Sometimes things are all about perception, and this cements her as one of us in a much more relevant way than the article does.

When I glance down at her, she’s smiling, but behind the happy fa?ade, I can see her panic. Leaning down, I press a soft, reassuring kiss to her lips, swallowing her shaky breath. “Look at your sister,” I say against her mouth, pulling back just enough to allow me to wrap my arms around her and lift her into the air.

I watch as she glances around and feel the moment she spots her sister standing alone by the wall, her expression dumbfounded and furious as she glares back at us.

After a moment, I lower Izzy to her feet and the crowd parts, creating a path for us. Izzy’s grin is the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen, and for the first time, the confidence she’s exuding is all hers, without an ounce of pretense.

Penelope is waiting by the doors when we reach them. “Hey, sis,” Izzy calls with a knowing smile.

I half expect Penelope to pitch a fit, to scream and threaten, or even try to separate Izzy from the guys and me, but instead she just nods her head, offering Izzy an impressed half-smile, like she knows exactly what we’re doing and grudgingly approves of it.

Izzy’s new schedule is in the office waiting for her when we arrive, and just like we were promised, she’s now in almost every one of her sister’s classes. We even got her homeroom changed to the same as the rest of us, and although she doesn’t say anything, I can see how relieved she is to not have to face her sister on her own yet.

The moment we step through the door, we’re bombarded by questions and interest. It’s not uncommon in our social circle for engagements between prominent families to be established in high school, but an engagement between a Rhodes and a Winslow is definitely a match made in money heaven.

What surprises me is that no one mentions Penelope. It’s like now that they can see Izzy, her sister really isn’t that interesting. The girls in our homeroom swarm around Izzy, clamoring to talk to her. She’s polite, but instead of taking them up on their offer to sit with them, she allows me to pull her onto my lap, curling into me and resting her head on my shoulder like the few minutes we’ve been at school have already exhausted her.

I can feel the eyes of every guy in the room staring at her. It doesn’t matter that she’s in my lap and wearing my ring, it’s impossible to ignore how fucking stunning she is. The caveman in me wants to beat my fists against my chest, then piss in a circle around her, so they know she’s taken. But I reluctantly concede and just send death glares at the ones who are stupid enough to catch my eye while they ogle my fiancée.