Grand Lies by JC Hawke

8

Nina

He called me Pixie.Until now, I’ve presumed Elliot made it up as a joke, but the way Mason says it, as if still testing the word on his tongue. It leaves me assuming it’s for another reason.

Are they making fun of me?

My hands flatten on his shoulders as he gently lowers my leg to the ground. Tremors still rack through my body, causing me to stagger on my feet as I try to gain control of my limbs. When he told me to stop drinking, I felt collared. The thought of doing something for him because he told me to only made me want to do the opposite. Now I’m unsteady on my feet and wishing I’d listened.

The light tap of his finger on my ankle has me snapping out of my postorgasmic daze. I lift each foot so he can slide my underwear back into place, then smooth the material of my dress down over my hips myself. I lean back lazily against the door, watching him, wondering if he is even real.

His hair is a mess from my fingers—just like I wanted it. But what’s better than his just fucked hair is the satisfied smile that’s plastered across his face and that smile; it makes me feel fucking powerful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.

He steps into me again, pulling my chin between his thumb and finger. “I’m thinking I should’ve done that on our first night together. I didn’t realise how easy it is to tame you.”

My jaw drops in shock. “You cheeky prick! You make me... untamed!” I push on his chest playfully, and he captures my wrist in his hand.

“Well then, it’s a good job your cunt is my new favourite pastime, isn’t it? Makes for a good team.” He leans in, kissing me tenderly.

His phone starts to ring, and he pulls away, digging in his pocket to retrieve it.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand running through his hair as he brings it to his ear “Scar,” he mutters. He sounds dejected, and my stomach knots at the tone of his voice.

He turns away from me, walking to the desk in the far corner of the room, and it gives me a chance to take in my surroundings for the first time since entering the room. We are in an office. Minimal furniture decorates the space, and the lack of windows makes it dark and a little depressing.

Mason sits on the edge of the desk, his chin dropped down to his chest as he listens on the phone. Unsure about what I should do, I push off from the door, walking toward the sofa.

His dark eyes lift immediately, burning through me as he reaches out an arm, gesturing for me to go to him.

“It’s not your problem, Scar. It’s neither of our problems,” he says as I step up next to him. He brings his arm around my waist, pulling me to his side and places a chaste kiss on my temple.

I wonder who Scar is. It sounds like a woman’s name. The voice is slightly whiny—definitely a woman.

“Alright, calm down,” he huffs in annoyance. “I will leave now, give me an hour, okay?” He hangs up, angling his body to face mine.

I force a smile. “You aren’t taking me home, are you?”

His warm palm encases the side of my face as his thumb brushes my lower lip. “Not tonight, angel. We still have our date tomorrow?” he questions.

“Are you going to tell me where you are going?” I answer his question with one of my own.

His face morphs into one of displeasure, his jaw clenching tight. “No. We have our date tomorrow,” he tells me.

‘You need to trust him’ Vinny’s words resonate in me.

Should I trust this man? He’s going to see a woman right now that much I’m sure of. But I don’t feel the jealousy I did out in the club before. His frustration with having to go tells me enough, and it only makes me worry for him.

“You want me to come with you?” I ask, running my hand up his chest.

“No, I don’t. Sorry,” he says before stepping away from me.

Long strides put distance between us, and the more steps he takes the farther away I feel him drift from me. The strong set of his shoulders, his fists that are now curled at his sides, all tell me that soft, tender Mason is gone.

Mr Lowell back in his place.

I hurry to catch up with him, not wanting to be left behind in the poorly lit room. He pulls open the door in a rush but instantly comes to an abrupt halt, making me stumble and face-plant into his back.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans.

I lean back, looking up into Lucy’s eyes.

What the fuck?

“Luce?” I frown.

“Hey, babes!” She smiles.

“Stay right there,” Elliot’s voice floats in from outside.

I look around Mason to find him holding Lucy up under her armpits. She is leaning over Megan, who kneels at her feet. Megan’s face is firmly inserted in Mason’s crotch. I frown, looking at Elliot standing behind them, his phone poised at the ready. “I need to get a picture of this.”

“You were listening in?” I accuse.

Sneaky little bitches. I giggle to myself, looking down at Megan, who still hasn’t moved. I’m sure she is loving this.

Mason looks fuming mad, which makes me want to laugh harder. He’s so damn serious.

Elliot steps forward, a boyish grin in place as he takes Lucy by the waist and lifts her from Mason’s grip. I help Megan to her feet, giving her a cheeky wink when she smiles wide.

“I’m heading to Lowerwick,” Mason tells them, detached and cold.

Elliot’s face drops, a frown taking over. “You want me to come with you?”

“No. Get Vinny to take the girls home,” he says firmly before stalking off in the direction of the exit.

I stare after him, watching as security opens the door, and then he disappears, gone in a flash.

“Looks like it’s home time for me.” I smile sheepishly at the group, feeling conscious that they may have been listening in on the two of us.

“Sorry, Pixie, you’re coming with me!” Elliot tells me, grinning in amusement.

* * *

Half an hour later,Vinny arrives to take us home—although we aren’t going home. Elliot is taking us to Mason’s. Lance voiced his opinion on the idea, and if I’m honest, I’m just as uncertain.

Mason wasn’t in the best of moods when he left, and I can’t imagine he will be happy to find a houseful when he gets home from dealing with Scar.

Who is Scar?

Elliot gets in the car with me, and the girls—silly man—whilst Charlie and Lance take a taxi.

“So, what happened to Cece, Elliot?” Lucy jibes in a posh accent.

“Oh darling, please, she couldn’t possibly be seen with the likes of us,” Megan challenges with her finest snooty voice.

“Of course. How silly of one to think such thoughts. Tell me, Eli, does she suck cock as fantastic as I’d imagine one would?” Lucy laughs, losing her composure, the last part coming out on a snort. The car is filled with our drunken cackles while Elliot sits smirking at us, not giving a shit that we are ripping into his friend.

I can’t see Vinny, but I’m certain he is smiling too.

* * *

My thought processwas flawed when I agreed to go with Elliot because now I stand in the foyer of Mason’s penthouse, and all the emotions I experienced last weekend are waking inside of me.

Megan and Lucy come up behind me, awe on their faces as they take in the expansive space.

“Holy shit, Nina!” Megan whispers. “You never said—”

“Come on, girls. Let’s get a drink.” Charlie drapes an arm over my shoulder, smiling down at me with pity in his eyes.

He leads us to an entertainment room. There is a minibar, pool table, sofa, and a screen the size of the entire wall.

“What you having, girls?” Lance asks as he places six glasses on the bar top.

I stand in the doorway with my arms wrapped around myself. It doesn’t feel right being here without Mason. How will he feel when he comes home and finds us all here?

Finds me here.

“I don’t want anything, thank you,” I say.

Alcohol is the last thing I need right now.

“Good,” Elliot whispers so only me and Charlie can hear. I turn, finding him at our backs out in the hallway. “He will need you when he gets home, Pix.” He brushes past us, joining the girls at the bar and leaving me with a growing pressure in my chest.

Is that why he brought me here. To make Mason feel better? To distract him from whatever has dragged him away?

Charlie squeezes my shoulder. “He’s right. It’s probably the smartest idea he’s ever had.”

“Will he be mad?”

“Not at you.”

“At Scar?”

He frowns at my question. “No. Never at Scar.”

“Then who?” I ask, confused.

Seemingly not wanting to answer, he steps into the room and grabs a pool cue from the wall. “Fancy a game?”

I purse my lips, rounding the table. “You like losing?”

* * *

It’s goneone a.m. when we finally relent. Mason is still not home, and the thought of him not wanting me here makes me grow more and more anxious by the second.

Lucy and Megan bounce up the hallway to ‘their room’, Elliot loving his new role of being their tour guide.

Luckily, there is room for us all to stay with the penthouse’s multiple bedrooms. It’s massive. Far more space than one person needs, that’s for sure.

The girls begin opening and closing all the bedrooms’ adjoining doors before flopping down onto the bed in pure elation. I smile as I look at Elliot, and I get the feeling he likes having the girls around. They are gorgeous, fun and give back his banter tenfold.

“Nina hunny, remember to shag his brains out,” Lucy calls from her spot on the bed, her head dropped to the side as she points at me. “And I mean completely. We don’t want any cerebrum left getting in the way of us and that marriage proposal.”

“This will be my room,” Megan states.

I shake my head at the idiots I call my friends. What happened to ‘No kissing him, Nina.’?

“Pixie,” Elliot calls, summoning me as he heads back to the room at the top of the stairs.

The master bedroom.

“He won’t be long. I’m sure you’re familiar with this room.” He pops a brow, walking backwards and then disappearing inside a bedroom farther down the hall.

My feet flush hot against the heated floor as I stand on the threshold of Mason’s bedroom. I want to go inside, but I have to force my feet to move forward. My head not quite caught up with my heart.

I step inside, closing the door behind me.

Everything is as I remembered, which surprises me for the amount of alcohol I had consumed the last time I was here. His super king bed sits dominantly in the large room, dressed with fresh white sheets. Thoughts of Mason watching me as I drift off to sleep rush through me, and I quickly walk past the bed, feeling like an intruder in his private space.

I contemplate going downstairs to sleep on the sofa, but the idea of being alone in such a colossal space has me heading towards the en suite instead. I strip down quickly before stepping into his walk-in shower, the spray hitting me hard.

Spotting his body wash on the stand, I pop open the lid and inhale.

Hmm. That’s the stuff.

The woodsy scent expels some of my doubt. Mason wanted to take me home tonight—that must mean something.

Yes, he wants to have sex with you, Nina, not move you in.

Ignoring my own reasoning, I squeeze a generous amount of soap into my hand, lathering up my body and losing myself in all things Mason.

Reluctantly I step from the shower, struggling to see anything through the steam and condensation that’s filled the room. Wrapped in one of the super soft towels I found in the shelving, I walk back out to the room, a cloud of mist following me as I go.

Silence settles around me as I stand in the centre of the room. I can’t hear a thing, not even the girls. Looking down at myself, I wonder what I should put on.

Can I go to bed in my underwear?

I spot one of the adjoining doors slightly ajar and wonder if it’s his wardrobe. Would it be rude to go through his things? I tiptoe to the door, tentatively pushing it open, and the light flickers on automatically, making me jump.

My eyes do a quick scan of the room, relief filling me when I see a discarded white shirt on a grey padded stool in the corner of the room. I walk over, pick it up and bring it to my nose. Mase. Will his smell ever stop having this effect on me?

I slide the shirt over my head then smile down at myself. I look ridiculous. It’s huge, hanging low on my tan thighs.

Without overthinking this whole situation any more than I already am, I leave the wardrobe and get into bed, picking the side I slept in the last time I was here.

Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling, trying to think about anything but the fact I’m lying alone in Mason Lowell’s bed.

* * *

Mase

Fucking parents.

You would think it would be the children calling up to ask for help, not the other way around. Scarlet couldn’t handle our father on her own, and it’s unfair to think that she could. Unfair that she feels the need to still live with him after all these years.

Since our mother died, my father has slowly been killing himself, his purpose gone with her last breath.

I rub my hands over my face harshly, the image of my dad slumped in his chair completely unresponsive, making my stomach lurch.

I need a fucking shower and my bed.

The elevator doors slide open, and the smell of liquor instantly assaults me. I lift my collar, sniffing myself, but it’s not me.

Fucking Elliot.

If he has brought Cece here, I will kill him; they already caused enough problems for me tonight.

I take the stairs two at a time, desperate to shower and at least try and get some sleep. It’s just gone three a.m. and my alarm is set for my morning workout in three hours.

The moment I step into my room, I feel her. My eyes seek out the silhouette of the woman in my bed—her soft, delicate curves covered by the thin fabric of my sheets. I swallow thickly. It’s not her. It can’t be her. Vinny wouldn’t have brought her here. He knows better.

It’s not her. I tell myself as I quietly step inside my en suite, ignoring the hope that consumes me because if anyone could erase the bullshit I’ve endured tonight, it’s her.

* * *

Nina

My body stirs asthe bed dips behind me, awakening me from the most peaceful sleep I have had in months. His distinctive smell wraps around me moments before his arms do, his soft lips brushing across the exposed skin of my neck as he breathes me in.

“Angel,” he whispers.

“Mase, you’re home. What time is it?”

“You’re in my bed,” he rasps, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the taut lines of my throat.

His body moulds to my back as his hand runs from my bare thigh to my waist, dragging the shirt along with it.

“You want me to leave? Elliot—”

I sigh as his hand slides into the front of my underwear, cupping me with just the right amount of pressure.

He lifts his head to look down at me, his dark eyes piercing through mine in the moonlit room. “Try leaving.” He smirks, dipping one finger into my heat.

My back arches away from him, pushing me farther into the hand that cups me. Farther onto the thick finger that penetrates me at a deliciously slow pace.

“Mase,” I moan, turning to give him my mouth.

Our kiss is gentle at first, slow, as our mouths find a rhythm that fits, and I can’t help the soft smile that finds my lips as I think about the worry I faced at him finding me in his bed.

“Why are you smiling?” he whispers against my lips.

“I was worried you’d be mad at me coming here tonight, being in your bed when you got home,” I say, gasping against his open mouth as he pumps his finger inside me.

“You have no idea what you being here does to me, Nina.” He rolls his hips, his hardened cock nestling into the line of my ass as his lips find mine again, demanding and controlled in their assault.

His fingers leave me, spreading my desire through my slick flesh, then swirling around my clit before pinching it between his fingers. I moan when he pushes inside of me again, unsure how many fingers are stretching me wide.

Mason doesn’t stop. Not until I’m writhing beneath him, so close to falling over the edge, I can feel the tremor about to pulsate through me. As his hand leaves me, I whimper, but he wastes no time, grabbing my hips and flipping me to my back.

A moment seems too big a word to describe how quickly he enters me. Deep, harsh, and fully to the hilt.

“Oh my god!” I cry out as he groans, falling onto me. “Mase,” I breathe, feeling overwhelmed and consumed by him. “Shit.” I roll my hips, trying to ease the burning sensation between my legs.

“Stop moving,” he demands, bringing his forehead to mine and closing his eyes. “Just stay fucking still a minute. Please.”

I smile up at the beautiful man above me, watching as he fights for control, fights to stop himself from coming.

Holy shit. “Mase, a condom!” I say in a panic.

“I. Know!” he grounds out, his body trembling above mine.

I roll my lips trying to hold back a smile.

“Angel, you need to stop fucking smiling,” he moans.

Not being able to help myself, I squeeze him tight, using every muscle I can convince to help me in what I’m sure will be my vagina’s very own assassination.

His cock twitches in delight as my walls contract around him. “Fuck!”

I should know better than to push the man, but it works. With every last bit of his control shredded, he gives in, starting to move inside me. He lifts one of my legs over his arm to push himself deeper, and my smile slips as his cock rubs against the spot inside me that he’s seemed to have already learnt so well. Our bodies move as one, craving the release we both search for in each other.

“Shit, I can’t, you’re so fucking tight,” he moans.

“Not. Yet. I’m nearly. There,” I beg.

A growl leaves him as he drops my leg to the bed, then he is grabbing my hips in an unforgiving hold, pounding into me relentlessly as he pulls me onto him. His lips take mine in a bruising kiss as I start to convulse around him, his own orgasm causing him to jerk above me. I feel his cum fill me as his cock jolts inside my still throbbing core.

Lying completely sated beneath him, I bring my hand up to push his hair out of his face, looking into his eyes as they spark, the dark pools seeming to glow almost black. He has the most captivating eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Can we name him Samuel?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny, Nina.” He smiles, capturing my lips in a soft kiss. “Please tell me you’re on something.”

I school my features, swallowing thickly. “No, Mase. I’m not.”