Page 83 of House of Lies

I reach behind me and grab his cock through his pants, squeezing him. The feel of that thick, hard ridge pulsing in my hand fills me with a kick of adrenalin.

The voices are coming closer. It sounds like Donald’s heading up an impromptu tour group and is telling them about the architect that built this place, how the landscape inspired him.

But I couldn’t care less about that right now. Couldn’t give a crap about the group of people headed our way. Not with Ethan’s fingers inside me, the delicious friction every time he slides in and out already causing a building tension deep in my core.

“Why?” he growls again, as if he’s expecting a response from me.

“Fuck,” is all I can manage, and that only seems to make him angrier. His teeth graze the side of my neck, leaving fiery stripes in their wake. He nuzzles along the top of my bare shoulder, his breath heating my skin as he grunts with the force he’s using to finger me.

My legs are spread shamefully wide. The contents of my champagne glass slosh around, threatening to spill over into the entrance hall below. It’s more than inappropriate—it’s downright wrong. On so many fucking levels.

Donald and his group sound like they’re only a few feet away.

“Kiss me,” Ethan commands.

I turn my head, mewling as his mouth closes over mine and steals everything—breath, thought, life.

I come with a gasp that he swallows whole with a furious kiss, and feel wetness trickle out of me and smear all over the inside of my thighs as I hurriedly clamp them closed.

“Christ, woman,” Ethan murmurs like a curse. “If this was any other place, any other time, I’d be drinking you down like a goddamn cabernet.”

As if to make a point of how his words aren’t just a threat, he draws his fingers out of me and slips them into his mouth, a dangerous light flickering in his eyes.

“Ah, there you are, Mr. Remington,” Donald says.

Shit! I can’t let Parker see me. What if he recognizes me?

I push past Ethan, darting into the closest room and slamming it behind me.

I’m in a guest room, and thank God, it has an en-suite bath. Now I can clean myself up and avoid the realtor.

Maybe I should just stay here until the open house is over. I could slip out, get in my car, and leave with the rest of the buyers.

Then I won’t have to see or speak to Ethan again.

I won’t have to think about why I let a man do such dirty, private things to me in plain view of a bunch of strangers.

Things I enjoyed way too much.

Chapter 33

Ethan

I’m standing outside getting some fresh air, willing the buyers to finish up their inspection of the manor so I can leave this fucking place and head back to the city, when a hand grasps my shoulder. I turn to frown at the middle-aged man in tan chinos and a white golf shirt beaming at me. I take a second to recognize him, but not for lack of trying.

The memory of Cassidy’s pussy clenching around my fingers is still fresh on my mind. How wet she was, how fucking sweet she tasted. The sound she made when she came.

So desperate.

So fucking needy.

I keep wondering if I fucked up, though. She looked so panicked when she ran into that room and slammed the door. Not everyone enjoys PDA, especially when it ventures into blatant exhibitionism.

When I recognize the man, my stomach sinks a little. “Angelo? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Good to see you, too. Heard you were selling, so I thought I’d come pay my respects to this heap of bricks before it changed hands.” He sticks out his hand.

“You said this place gave you the creeps,” I mutter, ignoring the hand pointed at me.

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