Deception, p.18
Deception, page 18
She’s quiet, aside from her heavy breathing, waiting for me to get us into position. I fumble with my jeans until I’ve pulled my cock out.
Condom.
I need a condom.
But I just want to feel her slick pussy against my flesh before I pull a rubber on.
Hooking my arm around her stomach, I pull her back into my lap. My cock slides between her thighs, rubbing at her wetness. We both groan at the sensation of how it feels. Her hips rock back and forth. Fuck, it feels amazing.
Her body angles forward, like she’s begging for me to penetrate her. I grip my cock and obey her. She cries out as my fat cock presses into her impossibly tight body.
“Oh my God,” she hisses.
We’re both drenched in sweat. This car sex is fucking annoying, but I want her too badly to figure out better arrangements. Pressing my palm on her lower stomach, I lift my hips. I can feel my cock inside her, pushing against my hand.
I fill her to the brim.
Stretch her to the max.
I manage a hard thrust that has her crying out when we hear it.
Ringing. Over and over.
Her whole body freezes, turning ice cold.
It’s her phone.
“Don’t answer it,” I mumble, biting her shoulder and then neck. “We’re busy.”
She moans when she reaches to grab it from the seat and I chase her ass with a hard thrust. I’m undeterred, picking up my pace, trying to remind myself to pull out since I skipped right over the condom like a dumbass.
“Ford, stop,” she hisses. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“It’s my dad!”
The ringing stops and then a text pops up.
Dad: Pick up your phone. I know you’re not at school.
It starts ringing again. She completely shuts down. Stares at the phone in shock, no longer present in our fucking. Jesus Christ.
Sliding her off my throbbing dick, I twist her toward me so I can hold her. Her skin, which was just hot and sweaty, feels cold to the touch.
“I have to answer. I have to answer. I have to answer.”
Her chants are almost robotic sounding.
“Don’t answer it,” I tell her firmly. “You can call him back.”
But, with each furious text and incessant call, she starts losing her shit. She scrambles away from me, hurrying to throw her clothes on as quickly as she can. I look like a horny douchebag with my wet dick practically crying to get back to fucking.
That’s not happening.
Ignoring the painful blue balls, I manage to put my dick back in my jeans while she does the one thing I told her not to.
She answers the damn phone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Landry
“Oh, hey, Dad.”
Be calm. Be calm. Be freaking calm.
His silence may as well be screaming. I can feel the unspoken wrath battering against me like the force of a hurricane. What makes it worse is Ford is watching me, his face twisted in concern. I’m standing between two sides of my life, unsure what to do or how to behave. The fear of my father wins out and I attempt to smooth things over with him.
“This coffee shop on campus doesn’t have a good signal. I think you’re cutting out.”
“You’re not on campus,” Dad says, voice dripping with fury. “Are you?”
“I am,” I croak out. “Promise.”
Lies. And he knows. I don’t know how, but he does. It’s probably my phone. He’s a tech genius, so I bet he has a locator on my phone.
I’m so stupid.
“We’ll see. If you’re not waiting outside the front of that school by the time the driver pulls up, so help me Landry, there will be hell to pay.”
He hangs up on me. I stare at my phone in horror, shock rendering me immobile for a few long seconds. My ears ring loudly and my heart pounds out of control. It’s not until Ford squeezes my thigh do I realize he’s speaking to me.
“What are we doing, Laundry?”
“School,” I rasp out. “I have to get back to school or…”
He doesn’t wait for me to elaborate and fires up the engine. The trip here was terrible because he drives like a maniac, but right now I’m thankful because it means I might make Dad’s frightful deadline.
“Belt on,” Ford barks. “And tell me why the fuck I don’t stick around and beat his ass when we get back.”
Shuddering, I buckle my belt and shoot him a glare. “Don’t even joke about it. He’d bury you, Ford. It’s what he does.”
“Who’s in the mob family now?” he jokes, but it falls flat because neither of us are feeling very playful.
I close my eyes and gnaw on my bottom lip that’s still sore from this weekend. I’m all out of sorts. My nerves are eating me alive from the inside out. Parts of my body, though, still throb from Ford’s expert touch.
We had sex.
Well, we started to. It would have been better had we finished. For those few minutes, it felt so raw and real and ridiculously hot. I was someone else. Not Landry Croft. If I could have frozen the moment, I would absolutely have.
That’s not my reality, though.
This is. My reality is my father controlling my every move and punishing me the second I step out of line. The older I get, the harder it is to play by his rules. I don’t want to be here with that monster. I want to be far, far away with Della.
What would a life without pain and fear even look like?
“I don’t want to take you back to him,” Ford grumbles. “I want to take you back to my place. Keep you safe.”
I nearly burst into tears at the earnest, sweet way he says that. I’d love that. Then I could keep pretending we were in our own little world.
But where does that leave Della?
All alone with the monster.
“You can’t call me anymore, Chevy. Don’t text me or anything.” My bottom lip wobbles. “I’ll see you at school on Wednesday and later that day when you tutor Della. I can’t risk him knowing I have a…you. I don’t want him to know.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’m deleting your number. Please don’t make me block you.”
His jaw clenches and he glares at the road. I feel like a bitch, but I don’t know what Dad will do. I’ve had my fun and lived a little. Look where it’s gotten me. I’m crushed at losing this thing with Ford. I have no choice, though.
“Pull in the back,” I instruct when we make it back to campus. “I’ll go through the building. He can’t see me pull up with you.”
“Your dirty little secret.”
He’s hurt and I get it. It doesn’t change anything. My dirty little secret has to go to the grave now. I have to figure out how to convince my dad that I’m not sneaking around doing bad stuff. If I can’t, I dread to think what he’ll do.
To me. To Della. To Ford.
Ford pulls up to the curb and throws it in park. Before I can escape, he curls his palm around the back of my head and pulls me to him. His lips crash to mine, possessive and comforting. I want to sink into his kiss and forget my life. Just live here in this blissful moment.
“We’ll talk on Wednesday,” he assures me against my mouth. “Tell me everything.”
I can’t make him any promises, so I don’t. Not that he lets it deter him. He steals another soul-warming kiss before I physically wrench myself from him. I hurry out of the car and when I turn back around, he has my backpack in hand. I go to take it, but he doesn’t let go.
“We’re going to finish what we started, babe.” He winks at me. “Next time, I’m going to take my time with you. Enjoy being deep inside you.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but a silly grin finds its way on my face which is quite a feat considering the amount of stress I’m currently under. “Bye, Chevy.”
“Later, Laundry.”
He peels out the second I close the door. I don’t waste time and rush into the building. Passing by the coffee shop on campus, I swipe an empty coffee cup with a lid from the trash can. The walk through the building toward the front makes my stomach cramp. Anxiety eats at my insides. I’m about to puke by the time I exit the building.
A shiny black Mercedes pulls into the lot and I make my way toward it. I’m hoping it’s just one of our drivers and not Dad. When the car stops, the back door opens and Dad climbs out. He’s suited like usual and wearing black sunglasses. From afar, you’d never be able to tell he got his ass beat last week.
I toss the empty cup into the trash can near the curb and force a smile. “Hi, Dad.”
“Get in, young lady. You’re not going to sweet talk yourself out of this one.” He holds his phone up and I take note of a tracker app blinking my location. “You must think I’m incredibly stupid.”
Dread claws at my throat. The smile falters on my lips. I try and fail to suck in adequate air as I climb into the stifling car that reeks of his cologne.
Breathe, Landry.
He doesn’t know where you were, just that you were gone. Deny, deny, deny.
Dad gets back in the car, closes the door, and whistles at the driver. I sit beside him, trying like hell not to visibly shake.
The drive back home feels too long.
A prison sentence carried out silently.
Each quiet second that ticks by feels like another lead weight pushed down my throat and settling in my stomach.
“Thank you, Eric,” Dad says to the driver when we arrive at our building. “Let’s go, Landry.”
Dad carries my backpack, holding it out beside him like it contains all the evidence he needs to prove crimes against me. I follow behind him, my eyes downcast.
What’s going to happen?
Maybe he’ll just accuse me of disobeying him and ground me.
That thought is almost laughable. He’s too furious for that. I slipped out of his carefully cast net. Swam around in the dark abyss without him. He’s going to want to know exactly what or whom I was exposed to.
We enter the elevator and the air is stifling. I’m suffocating on the cloying scent of his cologne. Swallowing down the bile, I attempt to get a handle on my breathing so I don’t pass out. The elevator spins which tells me I’m not doing such a good job.
“I’m missing work because of you,” he spits out, words burning me like acid as we step out of the elevator onto our floor. “I can’t let this go unpunished.”
Oh God.
“Dad,” I whisper, trailing behind him. “It’s not what you think. I was working on a project with a girl named Melody—”
He whirls around, pointing a finger just inches from my nose. “Do not fucking lie to me, child.”
Child.
This is bad.
Really bad.
Tears burst free of their dam, streaking down my cheeks. He turns on his heel, ignoring my emotions, and stalks to our door. Once he’s unlocked it, he holds it open for me.
“Go to your room,” he growls. “Now.”
I scurry away from him, hightailing it to my room. He follows me inside and closes the door. His lips purse as he sets my bag down on the bed. I stand awkwardly watching him as he unzips each zipper, pulling out item after item. Books. Laptop. Notebooks. Nothing of interest.
Which means he knows what’s on my computer, just like I feared. It’s a good thing I only used it for school. Once he’s done emptying the bag, he holds out his hand.
“Phone,” he barks. “Sit your ass down.”
I avoid the bed because I don’t want to be near it with him, choosing to sit on my chaise lounge chair instead. He’s quiet as he unlocks my phone and starts his hunt. The panic swelling up inside me is too much.
The room darkens and spins.
I’m going to pass out.
He pockets the phone and crosses his arms over his chest. Slowly, he makes his way over to me, staring down at me. I hate that he’s within hitting distance.
“You’re out of control lately,” he spits out, furious. “I knew college was a bad idea. Too many unknowns.”
His words are a punch to the gut.
“That ends today.” He uncrosses his arms, fisting his hands at his sides. “You know a car is absolutely out of the question now. And your phone? Mine. Apparently, you’re not responsible enough to even leave the penthouse or to have…friends.”
Each word out of his mouth feels like another shackle, trapping me in this nightmare.
My phone buzzes with a text, making all the blood drain from my face. He pauses mid-rant and pulls it out of his pocket. The unreadable expression on his face is more terrifying than an angry one.
“Your boyfriend says hi.” His tone is cold. “So sweet of him to check in on you.”
Boyfriend.
Oh God.
I told Ford not to message me. Why would he message me?
“Dad,” I whimper. “I’m sorry.”
He shuts me up when he starts replying to the text. I have no idea what he’s saying or what’ll happen now. My life feels over. Collapsing in on my head. I want to die.
“Mr. Constantine will be here around six tomorrow to pick you up for your date.”
I gape at him in a mixture of relief and confusion. “What?”
“This stunt you pulled today will never happen again. I will not have my daughter’s reputation on the line because she likes sneaking off, but this arrangement with the Constantine family needs to happen. You’ll see the young man and charm him like I know you’re perfectly capable of doing. That will be your only focus. No more distractions.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pockets the phone again before cupping my cheek. I wait for a strike but nothing comes. Somehow that feels worse.
“I’m going to find out what you were up to. Your lies are transparent, sweetheart. When I discover what you’re hiding, we’ll determine your punishment from there. Until then, you’re to stay in this room until your date with Mr. Constantine.”
Not fully trapped.
I have Ty.
My last hope.
If I can get him to help me, I’ll be able to leave this hellhole once and for all. At least now, being banished to my room, it gives me time to come up with a solid plan.
I have to.
The alternative is too terrifying.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sully
The front door of our apartment slams hard enough a picture slides off my wall. There’s only one asshole who flings doors shut like he’s trying to break them. But that doesn’t make sense because Sparrow should be at school. With a groan of irritation, I climb off my bed, throw on a pair of sweats, and make my way into the living room to see what has his panties in a wad.
Scout and the devil cat are sitting together in one of the recliners like a king and his favorite pet planning world domination. Sparrow is standing at the front door looking like a man with his dick in a vise.
“What the hell is your problem?” I ask Sparrow as he tosses his book bag into the floor.
His hair is mussed up like someone’s been running their fingers through it. If he weren’t so unhappy, I’d be pissed thinking about how he got his hair like that.
Sparrow storms over to the other recliner and falls into it. His features are twisted into a scowl that reminds me of when we were younger and he didn’t get his way. He’s fucking pouting.
“Dude,” I grind out. “Are you going to tell us what’s up or make us guess?”
He rubs his palm over his face, sniffs, and then flashes me a smug smile. I clench my jaw, glancing over at Scout. Scout’s watching Sparrow with an unreadable expression. Something brews in his dark eyes—anger, violence, jealousy.
I feel all three of those like a punch to the gut.
“So I was with Landry,” Sparrow says, his smile fading. “I took her for a ride and parked somewhere private. Things got hot and heavy. I was trying to make up for what you did.” He glowers at Scout. “One thing led to another and then we were fucking.”
The room goes completely silent. Even Heathen stops purring.
He fucked her? He fucked Landry? Seriously?
“You fucked her?” I hiss, fisting my hands at my sides. “Why?”
Sparrow sneers at me. “She’s our job.”
Scout makes a derisive snort. Though he’s apathetic about a lot of things, his attempt at boredom doesn’t work. Not with this. I can tell he’s just as mad as me.
Sparrow then goes into detail of everything that happened this morning from him picking her up to dropping her back off at campus. The smiles, the moments they shared, the hot sex. By the end of it, I want to ram my fist through his nose.
“Now, I don’t know what’s going to happen with her dad,” Sparrow complains. “I don’t know when I’ll see her again.”
“I’ll see her tonight.” I smirk when he shoots me a nasty glare. “Maybe if you’d have kept your dick in your pants and stayed at school like the job required, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” Crossing my arms, I look down at him, watching the vein in his neck pulsate with fury. “I’ll make sure she comes this time.”
“She fucking came,” Sparrow growls. “And if you touch her—”
“You’ll what?” I snap, throwing my arms in the air. “Tell her you’ve been lying to her? That you’re just one third of the person she likes? Didn’t think so.”
Sparrow flies to his feet, bringing his nose to mine. “If you touch her or speak of that shit, I’m going to beat your ass, Sull. You know I can.”
Probably.
Do I care?
Nope.
I swing at him, managing to sucker punch him in the jaw and catching him off guard for all of three seconds. As soon as he recovers from the hit, he’s on me, tackling me hard to the floor. His fist slams into my ribs just as I bring my knee up between his legs. We both howl in pain followed by a string of cursing.
Somewhere in the fog of our scuffle, I hear voices. I’m too fired up to care who it might be. Sparrow somehow gets his hand around my throat, his grip a crushing vise that has me struggling to suck in air.
“Boys!”
The older man’s voice, sharp and furious, cuts right through our bullshit. Both me and Sparrow freeze, panting and sweating. I still want to kill him, but not with Bryant fucking Morelli standing over us.
