Bittersweet Lies (Bittersweet-Series Book 1) Read online

  As I’m nearing climax, the door swings open and none other than Brooke stands in the doorway.

  Her stunned gaze as she grasps the situation and gasps is enough to push me over the edge.

  I reach my orgasm moaning and ejaculate so forcefully into the little one’s mouth that I have to brace myself with one arm against the wall.

  She analyzes the situation for a few seconds.

  The carelessly tossed on the floor condom, Cindy, who’s kneeling in front of me frantically breathing with my dick deep in her mouth.

  And, the fact I just experienced the most intense orgasm of my life right in front of her eyes.

  “Sorry for the disturbance,” she says amazingly unemotional, averting her gaze and turning around on her heels to leave the room.

  “Fuck!” I growl, rudely pushing Cindy off me and frantically pulling my pants over my hips.

  “Where are you going?” she asks in a high-pitched voice that gives me a headache.

  I hear her accusation but don’t care. There’s a reason we only fuck, not talk, because our conversations would not lead anywhere.

  “Away,” I reply dismissively and am about to chase after Brooke when she holds me back by the arm.

  “You are not thinking of running after her and leaving me behind, are you?” she asks angrily.

  Slowly but surely, she’s going on my nerves. The last thing I need is some common bitch that spreads her legs for anyone thinking she can make demands on me.

  I pull out of her grip and look at her coldly. “Mind your own damn business and now please excuse me.”

  With that, I leave her and storm out of the bathroom.

  First he ignores me, then later introduces me to … to that person, watches me on the dance floor, only to disappear without a word to fuck that chick in the bathroom.

  I really thought nothing could shock me anymore, but that trumped everything.

  He’d rather bang some superficial woman instead of talking to me about his obvious problem in order to find a solution. That would be much too tiring.

  I don’t know what he’s been imagining – most likely, he didn’t spend a thought on it – but from now on, I won’t be his plaything for his unpredictable moods.

  If he wants to play games, let him do so with one of his numerous bed companions, who don’t mind enduring whatever humiliation.

  Annoyed, I cross the dance floor and pass numerous bodies moving to the beat of the music, completely unaware of their surroundings when suddenly someone grabs my wrist from behind.

  Furious, I spin around on my heels and end up staring into a pissed off face.

  He is mad? Is he fucking with me?

  “What do you want?” I ask as calmly as possible and take a deep breath.

  “If it’s about the incident in the bathroom, I already apologized for that. So, you can go back to her and resume what you stopped.”

  I cannot believe I apologized to those two!

  It was my right to enter the room without notice; after all, it is the damn WOMEN’S RESTROOM. It’s not my problem that he can’t keep his dick in his pants long enough to get a room.

  “To talk to you,” he replies. His face is so close to mine, I can feel his breath on my skin.

  Everything in me screams to take a step back, put some distance between us, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

  “I wouldn’t know about what,” I reply coldly, trying to break free from his grip, but he doesn’t allow it. Instead, he tightens his grip, which makes me grind my teeth, annoyed.

  “You weren’t supposed to see that in the bathroom,” he explains, staring intently at me.

  No shit!

  What does he expect from me? A show of understanding? He’ll wait a long time for that.

  “And here I thought you staged that performance piece especially for me,” I respond cynically and weigh my options.

  I could scream, which nobody would probably hear, so I reject the idea. Besides, I hate creating a scene, that’s not me.

  Unfortunately, Liam is not in sight either. He is one of the few people who can somewhat handle Blake.

  The only option I can think of now is to talk to him and get this thing over with as quickly as possible.

  “Believe me, I didn’t plan for that to happen,” he growls.

  “Then what did you plan to happen?” I inquire, giving him a challengingly look.

  Annoyed, he runs his free hand through his hair. “That’s of no concern.”

  Of course not. Did I really think he would actually give me a real answer to my question?

  “Then I don’t know what you want to talk to me about,” I sigh.

  We continue going in circles, which is growing somewhat frustrating as the seconds tick by. I don’t understand what he wants from me because he can’t possibly be serious about having a conversation.

  “If I’m honest, I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” he states gnashing his teeth.

  “I spontaneously followed you because I simply cannot stand the thought of you being alone after everything you just saw.”

  “And that’s supposed to do what for me?” I ask, pressing my lips together.

  I mean, come on, who can make sense of the guy?

  First, he ignores and embarrasses me only to later show concern. Does he even know what he’s saying?

  “You shouldn’t give me the cold shoulder,” he states. “That would be a start, at least.”

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to order me around,” I hiss, glaring at him furiously.

  “Is that all you have to say?” I want to know and yank on my arm, which he’s still holding in an iron grip.

  If he continues like this, I’ll end up with a keepsake from our stimulating ‘conversation’, I think, grinding my teeth.

  “Stop being so damn stubborn, woman,” he growls, drawing me closer.

  “Or what?” I growl right back.

  “Or …” he starts, pressing his body against mine like it is the most natural thing to do, while his other hand brushes through my hair, “… this happens,” he whispers and in the next moment, presses his mouth against mine.

  Just like that.

  I gasp for air, which that ass immediately takes advantage of by sliding his tongue between my parted lips, and moans involuntarily as he takes possession of my mouth.

  He tastes like peppermint and man, not as expected like alcohol or cigarettes.

  With a jolt, he robs me of his lips and pulls my head back by my hair, which makes me gasp.

  With the tip of the tongue, he licks once over the entire length of my neck and ends up biting it firmly. The gut-wrenching pain adds to my desire and weakens my knees.

  My heart is pounding against my rib cage as my arousal reaches dizzying heights and threatens to rob me of my senses.

  I should push him away and put him in his place. Then why am I not doing it?”

  Before I can waste another thought on my irrational behavior, his lips smack hard on mine again.

  His kiss is neither affectionate nor gentle, so why do I get the impression that this might be his first honest reaction?

  He alternates between nibbling and licking my lower lip, carefully biting it repeatedly, only to eventually slide his tongue between my lips and kiss me senseless.

  I lose myself in the sensation of being touched and held by him, gradually dropping my resistance and gently leaning my body against his.

  He has pressed me so tightly against him, not even a sheet of paper would fit between us.

  Trancelike, I take in the music and dancing crowd surrounding us, unable to care about how we must look to outsiders. The only thing that matters at this moment is his incredibly soft lips, which naturally are still ravishing mine and feel as if they belong exactly there.

  Blake growls contentedly in my mouth, loosens his grip on my hair, and places the other possessively on my butt.

  For a moment, I forget why I’m here, why I’m not dissol
ving our embrace, and that he’s an ass in reality. My thoughts are wrapped in cotton, focusing only on his touch and the things he does with his mouth.

  “Blake!” an unnaturally high voice shrieks abruptly, destroying the moment.

  The soap bubble I was in a split-second ago bursts forcefully, leaving me reeling. Instantly, all the things I so desperately tried to ignore rush back, giving me a splitting headache.

  This was a mistake.

  Fuck.

  The kiss was a huge mistake.

  I should have stopped him. Instead, the stupid cow that I am actually snuggled up against him and returned the kiss.

  Even though I knew it was wrong, I ignored the shrill alarm bells in my head and gave in to temptation.

  Blake reluctantly separates from me and peers at me with a mixture of regret, anger, and something else I cannot read.

  “What is this crap?” Barbie angrily shouts and demonstratively crosses her arms in front of the giant balloons she calls breasts.

  I will never understand what men like about silicone tits.

  They look like crap and I’m sure touching them feels crappy too. Those two aspects alone are enough to dissuade me.

  “You are asking me?” he growls, sounding pissed off. “What are you doing here?”

  Her eyes widen in disbelief when she hears the coldness in his voice.

  “You cannot screw me and then leave me in the bathroom like some cheap whore!” she hisses. Her chest heaves frantically as she tries to stab him with her eyes.

  “Sure. Of course I can,” he replies nonchalantly, ignoring her deadly stare.

  “Excuse me?” she asks, gasping in outrage.

  “You heard me,” he replies unimpressed.

  “I can leave you in the bathroom, you know why?” His gaze darkens, kind of icy, as he steps up close and leans down to her.

  “Because you’re exactly that: A cheap slut that spreads her legs for any guy, too useless for anything else.”

  If I thought I had already seen her indignant expression, I was probably mistaken.

  She opens her eyes so wide, I’m afraid they might pop out of their sockets, and her mouth comes in a close second.

  I can still hear her gasping over the music. You could almost feel sorry for her.

  Then again … No.

  Honestly, right now I feel nothing but satisfaction. She more than deserves it.

  “Is this because of her?” she asks with a snide look in my direction.

  “Are you treating me like this because of her?”

  What, if I may ask, do I have to do with their relationship?

  Just because they have more than obvious problems – which, by the way, are none of my business – doesn’t mean I will be their scapegoat.

  “You better leave,” he urges, glaring at her darkly.

  That’s my cue.

  “I’ll be off now so you two can have some privacy,” I say to Blake and am about to turn around when he unexpectedly holds me back by my wrist.

  “Is there something else?” I ask surprised.

  “She was just leaving.” Now Barbie is also getting involved and scowls at me.

  Believe me, honey, I have no interest in disrupting your togetherness, I think bitterly.

  “You stay,” he says with finality in his voice, allowing for no contradiction. Barbie and I almost drop open our mouths simultaneously.

  Annoyed, I huff. “We’ve already covered this aspect. You are in no position to give me orders.”

  I don’t like it one bit that I have to discuss this here in front of her and in the middle of the dancing crowd, but unfortunately, there is no other choice.

  Maybe it works with his other chicks who don’t mind being bossed around, but certainly not with me.

  Why does he still think he can treat me like all the other women in his life and force his will on me?

  “Not now, Brooke,” he growls in my direction while keeping his gaze on his enraged companion.

  Slowly but surely I’ve had it.

  I won’t stay obediently by his side like I was his next conquest, waiting for him to get the situation under control and get rid of his annoying fuck buddy.

  “When would be–” and he interrupts me by tugging me to him at lightning speed and placing his index finger over my lips.

  “Do I have to kiss you again for you to be finally quiet and do as I ask?” he whispers near my face while staring hungrily at my lips.

  For a few seconds, I lose my breath and my pulse quickens on its own as I merely stare at him and – like earlier – forget about everything around me.

  I forget about Barbie, the dance floor, and the fact I’m about to make exactly the same mistake again.

  I sink into the depths of his eyes that are as dark as the ocean itself, while I eagerly peer out of the corner of an eye at his lips, which moments ago were passionately pressed against mine.

  Abruptly, Barbie rudely grabs me by my upper arm and drags me away. Her long fingernails dig painfully into my skin as she squeezes angrily, only to shortly after, push me roughly away.

  I guess I should be happy she didn’t rush me like a fury and scratch my eyes out. Given her current state, I believe she could do just about anything.

  There has to be a lack of self-esteem for someone to undergo so many operations to look like the perfect woman – whereas, in this case, perfect is quite clearly a matter of taste – only to get fucked and then tossed aside like a used condom.

  Blake silently watches the scene without making any move to do something, which amazes me.

  If he expects us to fight over him and start a bitch fight, well, unfortunately, I have to disappoint him.

  I wouldn’t sink to Barbie’s level even if she begged me.

  “Can I finally go now?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, crossing my arms in front of my chest, just like his beloved did a moment ago.

  I do this for two reasons, first, to prevent either of them from pulling me by the arm again if the mood should strike them, and two, because I want to emphasize my question with a dismissive posture.

  “No!” Blake growls almost in unison to Barbie’s high-pitched, “Yes!”

  “Both of you can get bent,” I growl.

  “Go ahead already and work your shit out!” I call to them over my shoulder as I leave them standing there.

  ***

  “Let’s go,” I growl to Liam and, pissed off, march right past him.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” he inquires when we finally are in the car a few minutes later.

  His buddy drove here, but because he’s too drunk to drive himself home, he offered to commandeer his car.

  When asked how he would make it home, he just smiled at Liam and quite inconspicuously glimpsed over at the blonde next to him.

  “Negative,” I reply curtly. Any word would be too much.

  “Okay,” he says quietly, turning his head quickly to look at me.

  “Do you want to talk about something or should I just shut up?”

  My guilty conscience instantly makes an appearance when I see his sympathetic look.

  It’s thanks to him that I am actually mingling with people again. If I’m honest with myself, I must admit I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.

  “Sorry,” I whisper and sigh.

  “The evening was great, really. I’m merely tired and want to snuggle up in bed and sleep all night.

  The day was incredibly eventful, a bit nerve-wracking, and confusing. Tomorrow, I’ll be my old self again, promise.”

  My mind is reluctant to bother Liam again with the frequent issues Blake causes.

  Secretly, I would like to talk to him about it, but then I also don’t want him to feel that all our talks are only about his brother. That issue I have to deal with on my own.

  He puts a hand in my lap and wraps his fingers around mine.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to do anything, Brooke. If you don’t want to talk about it, I
accept that.

  You know where to find me if you change your mind.” The small smile playing around his lips makes my heart beat momentarily faster.

  “Thank you,” I whisper and really mean it.

  Liam embodies everything Blake lacks: understanding, respect, and a great sense of humor.

  With him, I don’t have to be afraid of being seduced one moment and harmed or mistreated the next. My feelings are not a game that he must win.

  Yet, in spite of all those contradictions, I’m still attracted to someone like Blake.

  Either I have a self-destructive nature, which wouldn’t surprise me considering my childhood, or I’m simply into the type of man who is totally fucked up.

  God, now I am starting to blame my miserable childhood for all my problems, shoots mockingly through my head.

  The remainder of the ride is silent, which doesn’t seem to bother either of us.

  While I look pensively out the window and somehow try to make sense of the chaos in my head, Liam continues to hold my hand.

  He does so all the way into the driveway and up to my room, where we separate with a harmless kiss on the cheek.

  “Can I help you with anything else?” I ask Shane as I wash my hands in the kitchen sink.

  Yesterday, after Blake decided to avoid me all day, I used the time to put my stuff away and finally get the conversation with my mother out of the way.

  After all, the latter I had postponed for so long, I was about to push it off again. Since it would create only more problems, I dial her number after a fairly long sigh and would have loved to immediately hang up again.

  She was upset that I made her wait. Two days, as she kindly pointed out.

  Okay, that’s an understatement.

  In actuality, she was so angry that for the first three minutes, I had to place the phone next to me because she yelled so loudly into it that hearing loss would have been inevitable.

  Whatever bits and pieces of the conversation I picked up were just the usual nagging and a few accusations. My explanations were met with incomprehension, but it didn’t matter to me.

  Once she had somewhat calmed down, she still wanted to speak to Shane – probably to squeeze information about me out of him.