The Good Liar (Infidelity #1)

by C.P. Harris

Heat and sweat licked over my body, turning parts of me crimson. “Look at you,” he whispered in wonderment, spreading my hair around my head, and fingering the blush crawling over my face.

“Yes,” I said, as he used his nose to sift through my pubes, dipping under my testicles to noisily inhale along my taint as if it were a line of coke. His middle finger voyaged inside my sticky hole.

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“Fuck!” I screamed through a raw throat as he ate me with vigor, swearing and spitting and moaning obscenely into me. “I–I can’t.” “You can and you will,” he said before shoving off the bench and fitting his dick into me next.

“Cole,” I croaked through a hoarse voice and chapped lips, unsure of what I wanted from him, but knowing I needed whatever it was now. I felt the cold head of the dildo at my entrance again, and then something warmer, something real bump up alongside it. I popped my head to the side, casting my eyes downward to see the largest dildo missing from the lineup. “Fucking impossible,” I breathed, shaking my head as the dual cockheads crossed through me and waited just inside. “It’s too much,” I whimpered. “I once got a fist and half a forearm in here, angel. Nothing’s impossible,” he said gently, coaxing my retreating erection. “That’s it,” he praised when I began to reharden against the graze of his palm, a slave to my need. To him. “We’ve been preparing for this all day. Loosen up for me. Let us in.”

Cole took his time, complimenting my cock-taking skills as he made his way home in small increments, ebbing and flowing, all while fisting my cock leisurely, occasionally clutching me at the base when my lack of breathing gave away my approaching orgasm. “Look how well you take us,” he said, “and how wrecked you look while doing it.”

At one point in time my body had been conditioned to take Cole’s cock regularly. Conditioned to accept whatever he had to give me. And although we’d been fucking pretty heavily for several days now, taking Cole’s dick with grace after so many years of going without it was not like riding a bike. Accepting double his size at once was downright unthinkable. But I wanted his pride, his acclamations, his demons and whatever else he had to offer. “How do you feel, Jas?” he asked. “Fu–full,” I stutter...

I was splintering apart, feeling more vulnerable than I’d ever felt in my life, my heart beating uncontrollably against its cage. There was too much of everything, and yet not enough. There was the calling for my orgasm by his hand, yet not enough squeeze to force an answer. There were one too many cocks fighting for entry, yet I didn’t have all of either of them. I needed more, I needed less, I needed to come undone. So I surrendered the sliver of control I hadn’t known I was holding on to until then. I relaxed in my chains, trusting ...

“Yes,” he said, dragging out the syllable, bottoming out and going motionless. “Look at me, angel. Stay with me.” Cole and the dildo became one, giving and taking pleasure in synchrony. “More,” I mouthed, hooking my...

“Feel that? That’s me. What you’re feeling right now is all because of me.” He punctuated his irrational jealousy with sharp, concise jabs, needing me to know that of all the cocks at our hedonistic party, it was his driving me wild. Cole removed the dildo, his expression smug when I remained a blubbering, gaping mess. “See?” his gaze said. “I’m the reason.”

The bed posts whined, the headboard aggressively thumped against the wall, and my right leg lowered as the chain holding it unwound a fraction. And Cole fucked me like he didn’t notice the mayhem he was causing, as if nothing outside the joining of our bodies and souls deserved his attention.

Our heads lurched in competing directions, both fighting for a kiss we’d already won, for a passion we already had.

Cole reached out blindly, unclasping the chain from one of the cuff’s eye hooks. My hand immediately shot to my dick, and he threw his whole body into fucking me now, rattling the whole bed and sending the dildos toppling off the mattress. The chain holding my right leg out and up abandoned the post completely, sending my foot crashing to the floor from where Cole fucked me along the edge of the bed. He was too far gone to stop and investigate the disturbance, his tongue still piercing my mouth, his fingers still clutching my hair.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathed down my throat before devouring my tongue again. “Work yourself harder, angel. I’m right—” he paused to groan, “there.” It was what I’d been unknowingly waiting for. His permission, him chasing me as I exploded into microscopic fragments, only to be pieced back together again by him.

My harsh breathing canceled his out, and vice versa, until we were just one breath, one entity, one orgasm. Without pulling out of me, Cole unhooked my other wrist and leg, sliding an arm under my back, and hoisting me to the top of the bed.

“Tell me the truth you’ve been holding back from me, angel,” he whispered. “Just this once. Just for tonight. And I promise to never use it against you.” His arms became steel bands around me. His heart thrummed fiercely against my skin. “Please.” I debated pretending I’d already fallen asleep, but Cole had given me so much, had always given me so much, wasn’t it time I gave him something in return? No matter the emotional cost to me? “I still love you, Cole. And I can’t make it stop,” I said, words shattering like glass, the shards stabbing at my heart.

THE PENTHOUSE WAS cold without him, and every surface I’d taken him on had been scrubbed clean in our absence. The cum-stained sheets we’d left behind had been replaced with silks that smelled of a fragrance too soft to be him, yet too masculine to be him either. Jasper landed somewhere in between Heaven and Hell, angel and devil, and without even trying, even when he believed he was doing exactly that for my benefit. It was all him. Rare and lovely.

Balled up in the back of my top dresser drawer was the t-shirt Jasper had discarded on my bathroom floor before showering with me the last night we were here. I’d decided on a whim to hold on to it because I needed some part of him, some kind of link to him whenever he wasn’t here.

It wasn’t that I needed him near me at all times. Our individual lives were too full for that level of obsession. It was the access to him I needed like my next breath. I needed to be the one who got to see the sun rise in his eyes every morning and set over nightly dinners. I wanted our schedules to be built around the time we set aside for each other, instead of having to shift things around to be together. I wanted him to surprise me at work in the middle of the day because he missed me, and simply because he could. I wanted the privilege of holding his hand around friends and strangers, of letting the world know he was mine. I had Jasper’s heart, but Daniel got to share a life with him out loud, and it was killing me. I’d been a fool to think it wouldn’t.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked. “No. Not really,” I said before dipping my head to his exposed shoulder and inhaling up to his ear. He smelled like coffee. Like someone had taken a sip before tugging his shirt to the side and laying their mouth on him. I bit him there, replacing the last memory of what had happened in that spot. Now when he thought of it, he’d think of me. Jasper stiffened, crying out, and I withdrew my teeth before breaking the skin. “Don’t worry, my mark will be gone long before dinner.” My words dripped with venom. A venom I’d never had toward him before. I cupped his cock and noted nothing else—besides the cotton joggers—stood between my hand and his semi-erect length. Was it swelling for me? Or was it left over from whatever Daniel had started but hopefully couldn’t finish?

I understood how unlike myself I sounded. How irrational my argument was. I didn’t care. I didn’t care that I could be blowing his marriage to smithereens if Daniel walked in on us now. Right then, I only cared about whether or not my hands, my mouth, and my cock, had been the last thing to touch him intimately.

“Don’t,” he said, taking a hold of my wrist and yanking my hand out of his bottoms. My fingers moved to his throat as I caught him up in a brutal kiss. “Cole,” he said, breaking away only to be pulled back in. “Stop.” I couldn’t. I needed him. I needed him immediately. I needed him on the bed he shared with his husband. I needed Daniel to charge in and make the executive decision Jasper couldn’t.

Dragging a hand over my beard, I aimed for the bedroom door, stopping to lean against the jamb, to recoup some strength. “You said to call or text whenever I needed you,” I said with meaning, my back to him. “That hasn’t changed,” he said in a relieved tone, ready to forgive me now that I’d put a few feet between us. “Keep your phone close at all times.” I shot him a look over my shoulder. “I’ll be needing you often.”

“You’ve survived years without him, and now you’re back in his life and this is what one night apart does to you?” He flung his hand toward me, and I smoothed down my tie. There wasn’t anything I could do about the rest of me. “It’s not that simple, and you know it.”

I’d left a key for him at the front desk, and had only provided him with a time and place. He’d entered the suite equally worried and confused. “What’s going on, Cole?” he’d asked as the door swung shut behind him. “I need you,” had been my reply.

How could I tell him that Daniel’s disappearance after the board meeting—and after I’d booked the suite, had sent me into a tailspin, making it virtually impossible to get anything else done, too obsessed with where he could be. I’d made multiple needless trips to the copy room merely so I could pass his office, checking for his return. Was he still somewhere in the building? Was he handling non-Nexcom business for his firm? Had he taken the rest of the day off? If so, why? And where was Jasper? With him? Waiting for him? Heading to meet him? Jasper hadn’t responded to my text by then, and my call to him had gone to voicemail, so I’d caved and made up some silly excuse to phone Daniel just so I could listen to what was happening in the background of our call. No, I couldn’t tell Jasper all that.

Cole whispered, roughing me up by my hair, his hard gaze flickering over my suddenly scalding face. I shouldn’t have found his constant harsh treatment of my body erotic. Shouldn’t have reveled in feeling like a piece of meat, or property. But I did, and I was helpless to do anything about it.

“Tonight,” he said in response to my arousal. “If I take you now, I won’t want to stop, and I want more than sex today.” I want you, he didn’t say, but didn’t have to because there wasn’t much his heart could hide from me. I was grateful he didn’t vocalize it, though. Grateful I didn’t have to ruin things with a reminder of what couldn’t be, especially when day by day I was finding it harder to hold on to the reasons why not.

There were secret touches from the backseat on our drive to Lincoln Center. Fingers sent fluttering over the part of my throat Cole loved to sink his teeth into. A hand fondling my clothed cock, a thumb running along my waistband, tugging as if saying, “I need this the fuck off now…” And all those torturous touches made to my body were made by my own hand as I pretended Cole wasn’t suffering as he watched from the seat next to me. I kept at it in the dimly lit audience, my eyes fixed on the performance. At one point I turned to Cole, who couldn’t keep his eyes off me, and seductively bit my bottom lip while nudging my head toward the stage. “Pay attention,” I mouthed.

I returned to the foyer. “Cole—” “You’re not leaving. Stop seeing every move you make as an admission of guilt and tell him what any normal, loving husband would. Tell him it’s late, and you’re already half asleep on my couch. Tell him you’ll see him tomorrow.” “Cole—” I tried again. “Did it ever occur to you why he’d want to drive four hours in the middle of the night to get to you?” he asked, getting increasingly worked up. “How long did you think this ‘no sex’ thing would last? It’s a phase. They say all married couples go through it. He was overwhelmed with work, focused on making a good impression—” “Cole!” “You’re not leaving! I’m not sending you home with my cum running down your legs all so he can attempt to fuck you and make it like this night never happened. Like we never happened.” His admission brought with it a grave silence. This was about more than this moment. It was about every second of every minute I wasn’t his. It was about the promises I couldn’t make but wanted to.

“I never said I was leaving, Cole.” I flattened my palm against his heaving chest, then pushed his shirt down his arms while angling my head to kiss the vein leaping angrily at his neck. “And your cum isn’t running down my legs,” I whispered. “But it will be,” he said gutturally, rectifying that problem immediately.

“I’ve already got plans with Cole,” I said as relaxed as possible. He was my brother, after all, according to Daniel.

“Fine. I’ll get ready.” “And wear that green suit of yours,” his voice followed me upstairs. “It does something majestic to your eyes.” That suit had been left in ruins on Cole’s foyer floor. “I think I’ll wear the maroon one,” I shouted back.

My bones were cold, giving me a sneak peek of what life without him would be like. What life without him was like. I took the liberty of starting a fire, and then waited near his balcony doors.

“Do I even want to know where you’ve been?” I asked, knowing I had no right to. There was the sound of fabric, and then a thunk as what I guessed was his coat hitting the sofa. I couldn’t turn to him. Couldn’t even face his reflection in the glass doors. I kept my gaze downcast. “I could ask you the same,” he said, “but I’d rather not know.” His tone was limp, tragic, deserving of its own ballad, and my chest constricted from the pain of hearing it. “It’s always the worst at night,” he said, getting straight to the excruciating part. “When I don’t have a busy day to distract me. When I don’t have your busy day, or Daniel’s, to bring me comfort, because then I know at least he doesn’t have you.” He exhaled. “But at night, I imagine him holding you. His arms around you in bed, testing the waters to see if you’re in the mood. I tell myself you’re not, because I’ve been more than taking care of your needs. But still he holds you, and I imagine you pretending it’s me, and while that soothes my ego, it does nothing for my fracturing heart, because whether you’re pretending to want him or not, whether it’s my face you’re seeing instead of his, he does in fact have you. And the sad part is, he doesn’t even appreciate it.”