Page 5 of One Twisted Lie

I look up and that’s the very moment my eyes catch the last person I want to see. Ozymandias stands on the outskirts of the party, his arm wrapped around a random girl as she leans up and kisses his cheek. Something hot passes through me. How can he be so nonchalant after choking on my dick earlier today?

My dick plumps up at the thought. I have no idea what came over me today. I have no idea where that part of myself was unleashed from. I shiver because I can still feel the hot, wet suction of his mouth, can still see the tears in his dark blue eyes and the spit dripping from his lips.

He looks up and sees me, and I have to smirk. Despite not knowing what the fuck went on in my brain, I want to fuck with him. His eyes meet mine and something flickers through them, something like fear and trepidation, but underneath it all, I can see the lust and want.

I unconsciously lick my lips, and his eyes follow my tongue. I see him subtly adjusting his crotch just as my dick perks up.

Oh, fuck no.

“You’re bailing?” Magnus asks when I slam my book shut and shove it in my back pocket.

I nod. I can’t take this. I can’t watch Ozymandias out in the wild like this without thinking of what happened earlier today. I’m going to embarrass myself, out myself, and I can’t even imagine the shit we’d get from our friends if they found out anything happened between us.

“Have a good night,” Mag says, a frown on his face, but that frown quickly disappears when he catches sight of a pretty girl coming up to him.

Oh, Magnus…

As I make my way back to my dorm, I’m in a slump. I’m not even interested in reading the novel we’re working on in class. That’s how serious it is. That’s how much Ozymandias Rupert Clark has fucked me up.

We’re mortal enemies and have been ever since we met at fourteen. All it took was one long look, one sentence introducing us, two names, and that was it. We’ve hated each other ever since, getting on each other’s nerves, despising any time we spend together.

That’s why I can’t wrap my head around what happened. I’m the smartest kid in school—a fact, not a brag—but even my brain can’t comprehend it. It’s not even like he came on to me and begged to suck my dick.Iencouraged it,Idemanded it, andIenjoyed it.

I shudder. I can’t remember the details because if I remember the details, I’m liable to go back to the party, drag Ozymandias by his hair, force him down on his knees, and shove my cock into that stupid mouth again.

He had looked so fucking hot on his knees, needy and eager and like a fucking slut. I don’t know if he realized it, but he was panting at one point, his tongue hanging out and his whines musical as he practically begged for my cock.

Fuck, I’m getting hard. This isn’t good. This is not good. I can’t want Ozymandias.

Thankfully, my phone rings, and I’m saved from the embarrassment of popping a boner on my way back to my dorm. I answer the call without looking and groan when I hear my father’s voice on the other line.

“Carter.”

Not cruel, not mean, not negligent, just straight to the point.

“Father,” I say in a similar fashion as I make it to my room and fish my keys out.

“How are you?”

I pause. My father and I are chill, but we don’t really speak just for the sake of speaking. We don’t necessarily feel any particular way toward each other. That’s just the way it’s always been. So, his question strikes me as odd, but I decide to play along. “I’m fine. I just left a party. It wasn’t really my scene,” I say as I enter my dorm and throw myself on my bed. “Did you want something?”

My father huffs on the other side of the line.“Can’t I call to see how my son is doing?”

There’s an eagerness to his voice that I spot immediately. On instinct, I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose on a loud exhale. “I’m not done yet.”

“No? I thought you were working on the new program?”

I shake my head. My father is as impatient as ever. Since he has a super genius for a son—again a fact, not a brag—I’ve been in charge of certain special projects for the company ever since I could type. I’m currently working on a system that will provide secure encryption and transfer of sensitive user data for security companies. It’s a lot harder to explain than that but nobody who ever asks about it is actually interested.

Except my father, apparently. He gave me the project a few weeks ago, and it’s hilarious that he expects me to be done already. This is literally not doneanywhere, and I’m supposed to have magically figured it out in less than a month.

“I am, but it’s going to take a minute,” I explain patiently. “The software updates are complicated, and I’ve hit a snag in the coding.”

There’s a long pause on the other side of the line, and I can only imagine that my father is rolling his eyes in impatience and exasperation. Same here, buddy. I hate not being able to figure shit out, so however annoying it is for him to wait, it’s even more annoying for me to solve.

“Well, I know how hard you work,”he concedes.“Just give me a call when you’re done.”

“Of course, Father,” I say with a nod and then hang up, not even waiting for him to respond. He doesn’t care. He always says pleasantries are beyond people like us.

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