Page 65 of All Your Lies

Meet me at our house in 30.

Alexa

Our house? There is no “our”!

The Liar

What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine, baby.

Alexa

Gag

The Liar

You gagging on my cock sounds lovely. Meet me at our house or I’m coming to your condo. Maybe we’ll go for round two? I distinctly remember you loving what I did the last time I was there.

I gulp at the reminder of being tied and spanked with a gag in my mouth. That’s something I can never forget. Nor would I ever want to, much to my dismay.

The Liar

27 minutes. You’re wasting time.

What a persistent, controlling dick. I’m tempted to stand his ass up just to show him who’s in charge. But nothing has gone according to plan when I go against him.

Alexa

I’ll see you in an hour and not one minute before.

The Liar

I’ll be counting down the minutes.

Ugh. I throw my phone on the bed. He’s so infuriating.

I rush through getting ready because I wouldn’t put it past him to still show up. I’ll be in his territory at his house, but I can’t have him in mine after that tainted night. Jenna also has a key, and I guarantee she would find me in a compromising position, and I’d never live that shit down.

I follow my GPS to a row of black-and-white townhomes that stand alarmingly close to my condo… like, mere minutes.

The dick was right under my nose the whole time, and I was oblivious. It’s a damn good thing my future job isn’t as a private investigator because I’d suck.

I confidently stride through his front door without bothering to knock, a small act of rebellion mirroring his own uninvited entrance into my domain.

I’m greeted by a sparse, almost clinically clean space. It looks like a model home. Complete with beautiful paintings and a modern black, white, and tan color scheme. The distinct scent of his infuriatingly delicious cologne and marijuana permeate the air as I enter, leaving no doubt that I’m in his home.

“Gage?” I call out as I walk through the lower level. Where the hell is he?

I walk up the stairs to the second-floor landing. As I pass countless closed doors, I reach one at the end that is illuminated with bright lights.

To the left, an enormous black canopy platform bed and oversized furniture dominate the space.

As I walk in, the sound of running water fills the room. I continue to walk and peek around the corner to the right, where a bathroom sits.

Billowing steam fills the shower, obscuring my vision, but I can still make out Gage through the hazy air. His back, kissed by the sun and adorned with tattoos, is a sight to behold. With each movement, his muscles flex as he uses his firm hands to scrub his scalp with shampoo.

His special scent of darkness and spice lingers in the bathroom, enticing me to take an involuntary step closer.

I lick my dry lips as the inevitable hunger and longing that’s now associated with Gage runs through my body.