Filthy Beautiful Lies (Filthy Beautiful Lies #1) (8 page)

Her mouth opens and her eyes remain on mine. I have no idea why that’s such a turn on, but fuck, it is. I place the head of my cock between her lips and Sophie makes a soft sucking sound, the warmth of her tongue lapping at me briefly before I pull myself away again.
"Show me your tongue."

She does, her flat, pink tongue waiting for me so enticingly. I rub the head of my dick against it, letting her saliva coat me and the sensitivity shoots straight to my balls. Pleasure
rips through my veins and I stifle a groan. "That’s it. Open wider, baby."

Her jaw widens and I push myself into the hot cavern of her mouth, taking every bit of pleasure she can give me. Pumping my hips forward, I bump the back of her throat, dragging myself in and out of her mouth.

Sophie is a fucking champ at sucking dick. I hadn’t been exaggerating before. Her gag reflex is practically non-existent, a skill I haven’t encountered with many women, especially given my size. Her hands join the fun, wrapping firmly around my base and stroking as her mouth continues taking me deep. Good god this girl will be my undoing. I clench my ass muscles, fighting off the impending orgasm preparing to rip from my body. I’m going to come in her mouth again, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

I growl out her name and tangle my hands in her hair, pushing myself deeper down her throat as I explode. Sophie’s eyes find mine and she watches me intently as I empty myself into her mouth. It’s the most erotic sight and even as I pull myself free, my erection refuses to fade.

Christ, that was intense. If oral sex is off the charts with her, I can’t imagine what penetration will be like. And that simple thought pumps a fresh round of blood south and I’m fully hard and ready again in a split second.

Taking her hand in mine, I lift her to her feet. Her mouth is swollen and pink, her lips full. I kiss her lightly.
"Stay right here."

I cross the room and retrieve the gift bag from the top of my bureau. I remove the small bottle of oil from the bag and Sophie’s eyes zero in on it, and then dart down to my still eager erection and she swallows roughly. Her entire body stiffens. She looks terrified.
What the hell?

"
Everything okay?" I don’t understand her reaction.

I look down at the bottle of oil I bought earlier and realize she must think
its lubricant. As if I’d just roughly lube up my dick and push into her before she was ready. My gut drops to the floor. I feel like a grade-A asshole. The last thing I want her to feel is fear. "It’s massage oil." I lift the bottle to show her. "We’re not fucking tonight, sweetness."

Her relief is instant. She draws a deep shuddering breath and her shoulders sag.

How in the fuck had I ever thought I could go through with this? The idea of forcing her into having sex with me is deplorable. Christ what was wrong with me? But this was exactly why I hadn’t wanted a virgin. I’d wanted a girl who was down to fuck – not some terrified young thing I’d have to treat with kid gloves.

Drawing a deep breath of oxygen into my lungs, I push away any and all erotic thoughts of taking her and pull on my boxer briefs. I won’t touch her until I know it’s what she wants. But I don’t think I can go without her hot mouth around my dick. Now that I know she’s okay
sucking cock and how well she excels at it – there’s no way I’m giving that up. I’m not that fucking generous. I have needs and I’ve paid royally to have them serviced. 

"
Lay down on your stomach." I point to the chaise lounge chair. She may not be ready for me to touch her sexually, but I plan to return the physical pleasure she’s given me in another way.

She lays down right in the center, and I lift her body to the side, making room so I can sit beside her. She turns her head to the side so she can glance up at me, curious about what I’m going to do.

Pouring some of the oil into my hand, I rub my hands together to warm it before applying it to Sophie’s back. Her skin is soft, but her muscles are tense. Which is exactly why I need to start off my physical contact with her slowly and let her get accustomed to me touching her body.

She feels small and delicate under my hands. I rub the oil into her skin, sinking my fingers into her flesh and rubbing out the knots in between her shoulder blades. Sophie releases a soft grunt when I apply more pressure.
"Is this okay?" My voice comes out huskier than I intend.

"
Yeah," she breathes.

I run my fingers down the slope of her spine, admiring the twin dimples in her lower back just above her firm round ass.

"Colton…" she breathes, her mouth curling up in a happy little smile.

Marta must have told her my name. I like the sound of it on her lips.

After rubbing out all the knots, I lightly massage her neck, digging my fingers into her scalp. She was tense when I first began, but now her body is limp and relaxed for me. "Does this feel good?"

"
Mmmm," she moans. The sound goes straight to my ever present erection, and the beast flexes in my boxers, as if to remind me it’s still there. It seems he’s going to be a permanent fixture when Sophie’s around.

Looking down at her creamy bare skin and knowing she’s topless makes it hard to concentrate, but I do my best at rubbing her back, working my way down her spine until I’m massaging her lower back. The breathy noises she makes are distracting as fuck and the tiny shorts she’s wearing taunt me. I want to turn her over and push my fingers inside her, feel how tight and warm she is. Of course I can’t.
Yet. If I win her trust first, the sex will be that much better. At least that’s what I tell myself.

When I crawl into bed beside Colton that night, I feel boneless and relaxed. It never occurred to me that two days into my new living situation I’d still be a virgin, have an entire wardrobe full of new clothes and be at the receiving end of the best massage I’ve ever had in my life.

I slip under the sheets, thankful they’re cool against my overheated skin. Pleasuring him like that – feeling his taut muscles under my fingertips, inhaling his musky scent, watching him come apart –I can’t deny it’s a turn-on. He’s so in control, so masculine, it’s a potent combination – one that my own libido stands up and takes notice of.

Colton reaches over and with one hand, drags me closer, just like he did the night before, spooning his big, firm body around mine. I feel him release a sigh against my ear.
"Night, sweetness," he murmurs, sounding half-asleep. 

I know it’s totally strange and I shouldn’t let my guard down so quickly or easily, but I trust him. I just do. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me, or maybe it’s because he hasn’t taken anything that isn’t his to take, but regardless, a little sense of ease has wormed its way into my head, allowing me to relax in his presence. Maybe it’s because I know things could have turned out so much worse. God, part of me still can’t believe I’d gone through with that auction. I knew it was crazy, but exchanging six months of my life to give
Becca a shot at the life she deserves made it a no-brainer. It’d be stupid not to do this. And honestly, I’d never been one of those girls who held onto her virginity out of principle. I just hadn’t had a serious boyfriend with all the turmoil of my family life and I wasn’t going to just give it to anyone. I guess it turned out for the best – now that man would be Colton, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he was freaking gorgeous, and I was helping my sister in the process.  

I’m just about to fall asleep, feeling at peace with my decision, when a sudden thought jars me from my peaceful reverie.
What if all this…the kindness, the no-sex thing, maybe he’s trying to lull me into a false sense of security, to get me to trust him so I submit to him completely. The mystery of his past is still bugging me too. There’s Marta and Stella, both of whom I want to understand his relationship with.

And it’s not like he’
s a saint – I’ve pleasured him twice at his command, dropping to my knees to suck him off. God, he’s no prince charming.
Get a grip, Sophie
. I will need to stay on my guard a bit more after all.

Realizing all of this while laying snuggly in his arms, I distance myself the tiniest bit, fluffing the pillow under my head to get more comfortable. I take a deep breath, feeling calmer and more in control almost immediately. I won’t let myself get so sucked into his world I can’t see straight. I may have sold my body as a sex slave, but my heart, my mind, my spirit are all still mine. I still want to be Sophie when this is all said and done. If I’m to survive my six months with him, I need to remember I’m playing a role – living out a very expensive fantasy he’s created – nothing more. Ignoring the ache pleasuring him created between my thighs, I close my eyes and try to relax.

My body’s natural physical reaction and my growing attraction to him causes my blood to pound in my ears. It’s not something I can control, which both excites and confuses me. Perhaps it’s my limited experience, but my body’s sexual response to his nearness is unexpected and frustrating – especially because he seems in no rush to do anything about it. Sharing his bed, being the one to pleasure him makes me want to discover my own body’s pleasure. But for now, I clamp my thighs tightly together and pray for sleep to take me.

I shouldn’t have forced Sophie to her knees last night. For all the pleasure I derived, it’s been overshadowed by guilt, which ratchets up with each passing hour. I feel like a fucking schmuck.

When she cowered away from my touch last night, it put everything into perspective. I don’t do regrets or self-loathing, so needless to say I’m distracted and edgy all day long. I bark orders to my assistant, I’m short with clients and skip several of my meetings. All due to my shitty mood. The strange thing is, I don’t regret buying her. That fuckwad at the auction would have taken her home if I hadn’t. And I don’t even want to know the sick things that bastard had planned. I’d overheard him bragging before the auction began about his playroom – complete with whips, restraints and canes. A girl as soft and pure as Sophie wouldn’t have lasted the night in his company. At least there’s solace in knowing I haven’t ruined her. Yet.

As I cruise up the hilly road toward my private drive, I glance out at the sun sinking into the Pacific Ocean. It’s a view I’ll never tire of, even if this house is tainted with memories of the biggest mistake of my adult life.
Stella
.

Just thinking of her puts a bad taste in my mouth and I force my thoughts to return to my situation with Sophie. Watching the last sliver of orange dip below the horizon, I vow to exercise more self-control. Just because I’ve bought her doesn’t mean I need to violate her with every passing thought.
Christ
. I wince realizing that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

I know all too well what it’s like to have your trust and sense of well-being completely fucking shattered and I won’t be responsible for taking anything from Sophie she’s not willing to give. If and when we fuck – it’ll be because she wants it. My devious mind immediately
launches into various scenarios where I can entice her to want it…
Fuck
. Abstaining is going to be harder than I thought. Excuse the pun. 

As my feet pound the pavement, my breath pushes past my parted lips and my underarms and lower back grow damp with perspiration. I’ve been here a week and it feels nice to be back in the familiar routine of jogging. I lose myself in the rhythm of my feet thumping dully against the pavement. Despite the heat, it feels good to use my body. My lungs scream at me, my muscles pushed to the limit and yet, I make a silent promise to myself.
One more mile.

As I jog, my mind wanders to Colton as it so often does. My brain recalls and catalogs a million little facts about him. How warm he is curled around me at night, the heavy thud of his heartbeat against my back as he drifts off to sleep, the curious way he watches me move about his home like he enjoys seeing someone –
me
– in his space.  There’s something I like about it too. I feel free from the constant worry over Becca. Of course I still think of her constantly, wondering about her treatment and pray that she’s going to be okay, but part of me likes not having to face it every day.

Despite his silence and relative disregard for me, there are lots of little things about my new master I’m growing fond of. The deep rasp of his sleep-laced voice in the morning, the way he always sets out a cup and saucer for my morning coffee before he leaves for work, the slow curl on his mouth when he treats me to a rare smile.

He’s not an over-eager, fumbling man in anything he does. He’s sure, calculated and strong. Which to me is incredibly sexy. Remembering the soft brush of his mouth against mine the few times he’d kissed me, and the confident way he’d handled his large cock, placing it on my tongue and silently groaning out his release… all the muscles below my belly button clench and I fight to maintain my balance.

Even though I know I shouldn’t let my mind go there, I know he wouldn’t be anything like the teenage boys I dated
in the past – with pizza breath and fumbling hands. He’d be confident and sure when he touched me. He is magnetic, charismatic and charming. It’s an irresistible combination and one that I’d be defenseless against –
if
it ever happened. 

Even if I don’t understand this man, or his reasons for bringing me here, I appreciate his unexpected tenderness toward me. My living situation could be a lot worse and I’m grateful for him and for the money that means my sister has a fighting chance at life.

A slow smile uncurls on my lips as I realize I’ve passed the mile marker. With thoughts of Colton to distract me, running is a breeze.

As I circle back toward the house, I see Marta’s little red
sportscar pulling away and she gives me a wave before zooming off down the driveway. I hadn’t known she was stopping over today. She usually comes in the mornings, checks on the work of the house staff and then leaves to do whatever it is she does for Colton.

When I reach the house, I stumble inside, grateful to feel the cool air conditioning against my overheated skin. I slump to the floor in the mudroom, sucking in deep breaths, and
tug off both shoes. Colton’s suit coat is laying on the bench. He’s home? Maybe that explains Marta’s late afternoon visit. I know I should straighten my disheveled appearance – fix my ponytail that is half out already, but as I sit there trying to calm my ragged breathing, I get the sense of being watched.

"
Hey there, sweetness," Colton’s rich voice rasps over my flushed skin and my eyes jerk up to his. He’s leaning casually against the door frame, one ankle crossed over the other. His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and he looks both happy and relaxed. My eyes are unfortunately drawn to the front of his dress pants, which refuse to lay flat over the impressive bulge he sports. Heat flares up my spine as I wonder what he and Marta were up to. He’s never been home this early before, and I can’t help but think her being here isn’t just some random coincidence. "Have a nice run?" he asks, his dimple peeking at me from one cheek.

"
Uh huh." I nod, still utterly out of breath.

He enters the room, stepping closer and frowns down at the running shoes I’ve kicked off. I had my mom send me a package with a few things I missed from home.
Mainly these shoes and my iPod for running. He toes one of the shoes, flipping it over, with a frown on his full lips. "These are what you wear to run?" 

He checks for my reaction and I nod again.
"They’re comfy." I know they’re old but they do the trick. They’re worn in all the right places.

"
There’s no tread left on them. No support. You need a new pair every few hundred miles. How long have you been running in these?"

I’m guessing
"since high school" is the wrong answer. My parents bought me these when I joined the cross country team my senior year. "A while."

"
I’ll give you my credit card, you can order a new pair and have them delivered." His tone is direct and there’s something I dislike about being told what to do. I’m here on my own accord, making my own choices. Running is one of them. "If I want a new pair of shoes, I’ll get them. I don’t need you buying me anything."

His brows squeeze together like this is a foreign concept to him.
Geez
. Just because he has money, doesn’t mean I’m okay with using him or taking advantage of his hospitality. What kind of women did he date in the past? 

"
If I’m offering the help, why refuse it?" he asks.

"
Because I like taking care of myself." I silently add that I don’t need a man to provide all of my needs. Despite selling my body into this jacked up arrangement, I am a strong, smart, independent woman. I wouldn’t compromise on that.

He raises his hands in front of him in a silent peace offering.
"Okay. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to twist your ankle. These have no support left in them."

His concern softens me. He offers me a hand, and I accept, letting him propel me off the floor and to me feet. Now that we’re standing face to face, I’m self-conscious about my sweaty skin – the droplets of perspiration that still clung to my upper lip and between my breasts. I want to ask him why he’s h
ome early, but he distracts me, lifting a damp lock of hair from my neck and tucking it carefully behind my ear. The brush of his fingertips against my neck sends a chill zipping down my spine. His touch lingers there, stroking the column of my throat and my collarbone as if to test my reaction. His finger runs from my neck down to the tops of my breasts which heave with each ragged breath I draw into my overworked lungs.

"
You need to understand you’re mine to look after," he says, his voice rough and full of need.

That had never been explicitly part of our arrangement and we both know it. But somehow, along the way, his concern for me has grown. I’m not about to complain, I just stand here, transfixed by these new and developing feelings growing between us.

The rush of his fingertips against my hot skin force my eyelids to drift closed. Most of my life, everyone’s focus and attention had been on Becca – as it should be, but here, in his presence, I’m the one that matters. His attention feels nice.

But just as quickly as he began touching me, his hand drops away and he takes a step back.

"I’m going to shower," I exhale.

He nods, still looking down at me like there’s more he wants to say.

I exit the mudroom and head for the stairs.