Page 17 of Mischievous Lies

The line goes dead.

I smirk as I put my phone on the counter. Aside from fucking and partying, I’m also known for my unwavering determination to get what I want. And Ivy has been on that list for a long time. I fist my hardening cock and step closer to the camera, gliding my other hand through my black hair as I stare directly into it in all my naked glory. Just hearing her voice is enough to get my libido back in a short amount of time, and I stroke myself, knowing she’s watching.

Right on cue, my phone starts ringing, and I can’t hide my grin as “Lover” appears on the screen. I put that as her contact name in my phone to piss her off after that night we had together, but ever since, I’ve hoped it’ll happen again. Even years later, I’m waiting like a good boy.

I take two steps back to answer the call, placing it on speaker while my hand stays wrapped around my cock.

“Stop that,” she scolds, and it gives me a burst of satisfaction to know she’s still watching. Like me, she can’t resist the pull between us.

“Why, lover? Does it turn you on?” I ask rhetorically because I know it does.

The receptionist from the gym walks into the kitchen and stops in her tracks. She’s dressed in a tight-fitted jacket, her dirty shirt in her hand.

“I’m still on the phone, but feel free to get on your knees,” I suggest to the woman, and then fix my gaze back on the camera, all forher. My sweet, sweet Ivy, who’s just as poisonous as her name suggests. Because after just one taste of her, I haven’t been able to get her out of my system.

The blonde walks over, a devilish smirk on her face, and I remind myself about the hair thing, wanting to be more careful after the recent suggestion. She kneels in front of me and takes me into the back of her throat. And, as always, I think of another blonde I would rather be choking with my cock. These women… their faces, names, and bodies blur into one. There’s only one woman I’ve ever savored or memorized their every touch.

“Cat got your tongue, lover?” I croon to Ivy. “Does it turn you on?” I repeat my earlier question. The woman on the floor nods her head, but it’s not her I’m talking to. If anything, I’m now growing bored of the situation because it’s not her mouth I want swallowing my dick.

“No,” Ivy deadpans. There’s a tendril of something more in her tone, and I can’t tell if it’s irritation or interest.

“How about this, then?” I thread my hands through the woman’s hair and push her head down farther, encouraging her to take me as deeply as she can. She begins to gag on my cock, but I know her limits since she was sucking me off only an hour ago.

“Looks like she’s looking for something more tangible to eat. Oh, excuse me, that’s my door. My date must be here. Bye, Hawke,” she says and then hangs up. I’m left on the edge, all my libido and the buildup of the anticipated sex talk coming to an end.

“Umm,” the woman on her knees says. I look down at her, and my cock starts softening.

What the fuck?

It’s like a double-edged blade. I always come, but there’s an irritation taking over in its stead this time.

Did Ivy say she has a date?

I know it’s not my right to be annoyed, but how dare she hang up on me for another guy just as things were getting interesting between us.

Then again, I literally have a woman sucking my cock, and it’s now deflating like a punctured balloon. I’m baffled. My dick and I have a mutual understanding. We make each other happy and always get off. I step away from her, and she looks up at me, confused.

I try not to laugh like a madman. This has never happened. Even drunk out of my mind, I always come. There’s only one person to blame for this, and it’s the only woman who’s ever been daring enough to hang up on me.

CHAPTER 12

Ivy

The balls on that fucking asshole. It’s never bothered me before seeing him with other women. Hell, it didn’t even bother me earlier tonight. In fact, I enjoyed it. But at the end, something twisted in my stomach, and I suddenly wasn’t feeling inspired by any of it.

I lied about the date. I didn’t want him to think he was the only one having fun. I finish my bowl of cereal and put it to the side. My room looks like a dumping ground. Billie always suggested we get a housekeeper, but I prefer having a chaotic mess around me. It’s how I work best. If something feels too clean, it reminds me of a clinic or a display home. It doesn’t feel lived in.

I received another project offer and looked over the details. I’m grateful for the distraction. I accepted the job and let them know I’ll be ready to start on it next week, but it does nothing to take me out of my foul mood. Fucking Hawke. I walk into my en suite and turn the shower on cold, not bothering to strip my nightgown off. I want to feel the cold water washing over me, to calm myself down.

I’ve watched plenty of people have sex, whether it be swinging, sex shows, or threesomes, and none of it has reallydone anything for me. Sure, it builds up an appetite, but nothing compared to the yearning of my pussy as I watched Hawke shove his cock into that woman.

I hate that I think about him more than I should. He takes up too much room in my head. I’ve known him for many years, and he’s always been attractive to me. But I never once thought we could, or would, be anything more. We both love sex way too much to stay monogamous, and after our only sexual encounter, I’d backed off, knowing if we became hooked on one another, it would most definitely mess with our friendship or ruin sex for us with anyone else.

I can hear my phone ringing from my room, but I ignore it and enjoy the bite of the cold water. I begin to shake, and goosebumps rise on my skin.What the fuck am I even doing?

“Looks like I can break into places as well,” someone says.

I jump, grabbing the showerhead and pointing it in the intruder’s direction.

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