Page 161 of The Liar's Reckoning

Lilah pushes the other woman away and takes a deep breath. “We’re coming.”

I take her word for it and rush back down the stairs where I’m met with the sight of Graham, Holden, and their father huddled together while Holden gestures at a group of people out back.

Like he senses my eyes on him, Graham looks up. Anger explodes like a firework in my chest at the longing in his eyes. The regret. The question I hadn’t answered earlier.What are you doing here?And the one behind it, too.When can I see you again?

I shake my head, a firm no in my gaze. Never. Nothing like this can ever happen again.

Calliope isthe brunette’s name. She and Lilah went to private school together and have been best friends since first grade. Calliope is in medical school while Lilah has a college degree she does nothing with. I can’t even remember what it’s for.

Apparently, this is the first time these besties have expressed any feelings toward each other beyond friendship, and they seem awfully excited to continue expressing those feelings.

Lilah doesn’t go so far as to tell Calliope I’m a paid escort, but she does spill the beans that I’m gay and mostly around for Gil.

“Aw…how is he?”

“He’s great!” Lilah says, a little overenthusiastic. “He’s talking to a guy online. We think he likes him.” She includes me in the “we.”

When we get back to the Montgomery’s home and before Lilah sneaks Calliope up to her bedroom, she pulls me aside. “Did you see him? Is that why you wanted to leave in such a hurry?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say something?”

“He said things.” And I have no interest in sharing them. “Go have fun.”

“Are you going to Gil’s room?”

“I’ll check in with him, but he has some tournament he’s playing tonight. I’ll probably hang out by the pool.”

“As long as he knows where you are if he needs you.”

I nod.Yes, thank you, Lilah. I know what I’m being paid to do here.

“Okay.” She smiles. “Wish me luck! Good night.” She lifts onto her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my cheek before chasing after Calliope.

As expected, Gil is completely absorbed in his computer, headphones on. He’s got two separate chats pulled up on one of his monitors. One with other players and the other with Zq550mn. It probably means something, but who knows what.

He waves me off when he sees me, and I hold up my phone to let him know I’m around.

He gives me half a smile before turning his attention back to his monitors.

The house is empty. I change into swim trunks and a t-shirt before stopping by the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge and heading out to the pool. It’s a warm evening. Dusk. The sky is a hazy purple with the rosy hint of sunset lingering on the horizon.

Unlike the Lawthers’ house, there’s no ocean to be seen from here. Just a bunch of trees and well-kept shrubs.

The pool is a long rectangle, not designed with fun in mind, but I’m guessing it’s twenty-five meters—or whatever length makes a lap pool. It’s lined with deck chairs, and I pick one on the end nearest the house to face the lawn.

I have two missed messages on my phone from Trixie raving about her new mattress, which don’t require more than emojis in response. And then my thumb drifts toward my gallery. Irationalize that I’m only trying to make sure I got him on camera. I want the beauty mark. I want the voice. I want to make sure my dick got in the shot before I fucked him with it.

But oh shit.

“Please stop? Please fuck you?”

And then his face comes into focus. Behind him, I’m unbuttoning my shirt. The angle is slightly distorted because the phone is so close to his face, but it’s the sounds he’s making that have my dick plumping in my trunks.

I press the heel of my hand on it to make it stop. Nothing about this should be hot. It should sicken me to see him like this. Panting and whimpering. Crying for fuck’s sake. He’s obviously humiliated, and the words I’m saying to him in the video hammer that fact home. I’ve done degradation play for clients in the past, but this is different. This isn’t taunting. There’s pure venom in every word.

But when he spits on my hand, my growing erection overpowers my will to stop it. I slide my hand inside my shorts. While my face is rarely on the screen, he says my name way more often than I heard him do it at the time, and it’s got me leaking as I stroke my cock. I’m reasonably certain no one will walk out here with me jerking off, so I indulge.

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