Vivid Lies (20 page)

Kane pulls me down a hall to the elevators and pushes me against a wall. The impact of hitting the wall is intensified with his body slamming into mine. It's not gentle or soft the way he pins me there and runs his hands up my hips and over my ribs, drifting over the sides of my breasts. He's getting impatient and desperate.
 

The elevator rings next to us and the doors open. I didn't even notice him hitting the button. Kane pulls away and looks down at me questioningly. I'm breathing heavily and my heart is racing. When he moves me to the elevator, I don't resist. I'm wrapped up and drugged by the way he makes me feel.
 

In the elevator, his hand holds my thigh and I wrap my leg around his waist. I have no idea how much time we have and I actually don't care. His long fingers trace over my thigh and between my legs. I tilt my head back and gasp when he runs them over the thin material of my panties.
 

"Fuck, London," he growls. "So fucking wet already."

He grinds into me and catches my moan with his lips. The doors slide open and I'm dropped to my feet and rushed out. Kane opens a door down the hall and ushers me inside quickly. My knees are weak and my hands are aching to touch him. As soon as the door closes, I am pulling at his jacket. I shove it over his shoulders and start on the buttons.
 

"I thought about this since I first saw you on that photo shoot," he admits as he removes his shirt.
 

I run my fingers over the firm muscles of his chest and stomach. I wonder what he sees in me. I'm shy and mousy. Average looking.
 

I don't have much time to wonder because I'm lifted in his arms. With my legs around him, our lips fight each other as he walks us across the room. He sets me down on a cold, hard surface, knocking over a vase that falls to the floor and breaks. Kane pulls back, grabbing the hem of my dress. I'm sitting on a small table, windows overlooking the ocean behind my back.
 

The room is dim but I can make out Kane's dark eyes and he slowly lifts the dress over my body and tosses it to the floor. When he's looking at me like that, I don't care if anyone can see or about the broken glass below us. I just need everything he is promising in that look.
 

Reaching behind me, I undo the clasp of my strapless bra and toss it with my dress. Kane reaches for the skinny strap of my panties and pulls until they break off me. When he drops them, I'm sure I'm getting the table wet beneath me. This is the most erotic and hottest moment of my life.
 

Kane drops to his knees and licks between my legs. I moan so loud I'm sure neighbors can hear. I press my back to the cold glass as he rests my feet on his shoulders. My legs are shaking around his head, and it's so intense, I try to squirm away. Kane doesn't let me, grabbing my hips and pulling me back to his hungry mouth.
 

He nips and licks at me like he's starved. It's the first time anyone has eaten me out, and I would be freaking out if I didn't need it so badly. His tongue is soft but firm against me.
 

"Fuck. Kane," I moan loudly before I clamp my legs down on his head while I come. The orgasm is intense and unlike any I ever had before. It rolls through my body forcefully.
 

He continues to lick and suck until I can't take it anymore and I’m begging him to stop. Kane stands and has his pants down in record time. I stare at his cock, hard and long in his hand as he rolls a condom on. He steps between my legs, rubbing it over my clit, releasing aftershocks of pleasure.
 

"I love how you sound screaming my name," he says as he pushes against me.
 

I dig my nails into his shoulders as he pushes slowly inside me. Kane distracts me from the pain of taking all of his size by sucking on my nipples. I'm already close to coming again by the time he's deep inside of me.
 

"Fuck," he curses, resting his forehead on mine. There's a thin layer of sweat over both of our bodies.
 

"Please," I beg.
 

That's all it takes. Kane pulls out and slams back into me. I scream with the mixture of pleasure and pain. He's banging me against the window as I shout his name. I feel sexy, wanted and freer than I ever have. I have no restraint or reservations. Every action and reaction is a response to what I feel right this second. Nothing more. Nothing less.
 

I come again in a mess of shouted curses and trembling limbs. Kane is right behind me, biting lightly on my neck then licking away the mark. We don't move for a while, panting, sweaty, and exhausted. My legs are weak, and I'm sore from the roughness, but it's a satisfying pain.
 

"You okay?" Kane asks, pulling away and helping me off the table.
 

"I'm great."
 

I stand awkwardly for a moment before going toward my dress. Is this the time that I leave? Does he walk me downstairs? I'm never in this situation to know how things work. Right before I grab my crumbled dress off the carpet, Kane grabs my hand.
 

"Are you leaving?"

"Should I?"

Kane pulls me closer and brushes the hair off my face. He seems to be contemplating his answer.

"We never do as we should," he finally says. "I can't seem to stay away from you, no matter how hard I try."

"Then don't."

Kane kisses me again and I leave the dress on the floor. Maybe one day I will need to face the consequences for this, but not tonight.
 

Brooklyn
 

"Are you doing the walk of shame?"

London freezes, mid-step. She's wearing the dress she left in yesterday for the wedding. Her hair is messy, makeup smudged, and she has a tuxedo jacket over her shoulders.
 

It's almost comical how reversed the roles are right now. I woke up early and took a run, finished laundry, and have been waiting for London for hours now.
 

"You look thoroughly fucked," I tease. "You little hussy."

"I, uh, didn't think you would be up," she stammers. Her face goes beet red.

"I’m glad I was because I wouldn't want to miss this. Who were you with?" I get up to follow her as she tries to flee to her bedroom.
 

"Some guy from the wedding," she finally says.

She's lying. I know she is. I can feel it in my bones. We can always read each other, so it's almost pointless to even try to lie. But she is.
 

I don't call her out on it. It just gets added to the other lies and secrets we've recently accumulated between us. It's all just shoved in the corner, and we pretend we don't see it. We just ignore it.
 

But now they are piling up, and soon we won't be able to ignore the lump of deceit. It's taking on its own shape now. It's growing, taking up more space. We can almost reach out to touch it. It has its own color and texture. It is materializing right before our eyes, and we still pretend we don't see it.
 

"Go you," I say with a grin. She probably sees it's fake. "How was it?"

It's the mandatory girl talk. The conversation we've never really had before because London has never done anything as spontaneous and reckless as a one night stand. She's been acting so out of character lately, but I'm trying to be supportive. What I really want to do is jump on her with questions and pull out the reasons for this sudden change.
 

Instead, I sit on her bed while she gets ready to wash the night away in the shower.
 

"It was—" she pauses, searching for the right words—"fun."

"Fun?" She could have said amazing, terrible, hot or even mind-blowing. I wasn't expecting the word 'fun'.

"Yeah. I did something totally crazy and I loved it. It was fun."

London leaves the room like she had just told me about a day at the park. No biggie. I sit there, stunned. I have so many questions and for the first time in my life, I don't think she will give them to me honestly. I pick up the jacket she left on the bed. She would need to return it at some point, right?

I leave the room, irritation itching at the back of my neck. Is it fair that I'm upset with her hiding who she was with last night when I haven't breathed a word about Miles? It won't matter to us who she was with, but whatever is happening with me and Miles could change everything.
 

My sister and I spend the lazy afternoon without revealing our secrets. So many moments each of us could, but we let the moment pass. I'm almost relieved when I start to get ready for work. Getting lost in my performance on stage is exactly what I need tonight. Escape the weight of silence that is growing between us.
 

Backstage, I ignore the other girls and concentrate on myself. I make sure I'm ready, focused on my dance, without distractions. I need the power and strength that dancing gives me. It's like my drug. My hands shake with anticipation when I stand on the steps, ready to take the stage. As soon as my high heel hits the glossy floor, I feel relaxed. Much better.
 

I soak in the lights, the pounding of the bass, and the crowd clapping. The faceless shadows watch me as I spin, twist and contort for their viewing pleasure. Blood rushes to my head when I spin upside down, my ankles locked around the silver pole.

My clothes hit the floor, heavy with studs and leather. Dollar bills join them. Every move is perfect. I feel my power filling me back up, pushing out the worries and insecurities. I feel like myself by the time the song ends. Sexy. In control of my own life. I gather my cash and clothes and disappear backstage. At my locker, I breathe in deeply like it's fresh air, even though it's tainted with perfume and smoke.
 

"New York! VIP!"

My good mood plummets. I make good money on the tables and stage but rarely get called to the back. When I do, it's the same person. I can't dance for him. I brace myself at the solid door, ready to yank it open and tell him to fuck off.
 

I don't want to give him the satisfaction of getting me worked up, so I open the door calmly. I step inside the dark room and step on the stage like I'm not expecting him. Like it's any other night, just another customer with a hard dick. The purple lights turn on and the music starts. His face comes out of the shadows when he leans forward.

"Miles," I breathe.
 

"Brooklyn." His voice is a deep rumble. It sends goosebumps over my skin.
 

I automatically start to dance for him. A nervousness I haven't yet experienced makes my hands sweaty. I slide my body down the pole and spread my legs. Miles watches me with dark eyes. Never before has he seen me like this. This was a part of me I didn't show to the people I loved because it was all an act.
 

"What are you doing here?" I ask while I arch my back and spin around the pole.
 

"I wanted to see you. Here. Dancing."

My top comes off and hits the floor. Miles eyes are still on my face which makes me feel more exposed than if he was looking at my naked body. I step away from the pole and off the small stage. I stop only a foot away from him.

"Why?"

Miles finally looks away from my face. He gazes down my almost naked body. It's a slow perusal. Unhurried and careful. Intimate.

"I've never seen you dance before. I wanted to see who you became up there."

"What did you see?"

I step closer, my bare thighs touching his knees. My body moves on autopilot now. Trained by trying to entice and seduce, it moves on its own. Miles's fingers inch down his lap toward my legs.
 

"I saw you," he says, looking up at me. "Just bolder. Amplified. Brighter."

His words tumble on repeat in my head. His fingers find my legs and drift over my skin. I gasp as they tickle their path up to my hips. He pulls me to stand between his legs and I realize I've lost the control. Miles is now in the driver's seat. Driving me. Steering me.
 

"Is that a bad thing? Does it make you jealous?" I ask.

I don't know what answer I expect. If the recent past has told me anything, it will be what I least expect.
 

"Jealous? No, I'm not jealous of those men out there."

He pulls me suddenly to his lap. I cling to his shoulders as we face each other.
 

"I'm not jealous because they don't know you. They only see you in costume and makeup, putting on a practiced show. That's not the best part of you."

My heart pounds against my chest. I thought the faulty organ was frozen in stone, but it's wild and strong inside me.
 

"They don't know the sound of your laugh. They don't know how your eyes light up when you're excited. They've never seen you cry and still thought you looked perfect."

I shake my head, looking into his eyes, begging him to stop. He's reaching deep inside me and it hurts. I'm being torn apart and split open. Miles is digging a hole into me.