Dinner In The Mansion Full Of Lies

The steam blanketed the bathroom, thick and suffocating, curling around my body like a lover I couldn’t shake.

The mirror was useless, fogged up and dripping, but I didn’t need to see myself. I could see her just fine.

Emily.

Fuck.

I clenched my jaw and let the scalding water pour over my back. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. My cock was already hard, aching, twitching with the same goddamn need that had plagued me every fucking day since she walked into my office.

In that tight pencil skirt. Hair pinned up. Red lips that screamed sin.

My fucking secretary.

The same girl I’d had a one-night stand with… before I knew who she was.

And now?

She was right there. Every. Fucking. Day. Clicking around the office in her heels, leaning over my desk with that sweet, fake-innocent smile like she didn’t remember how she rode me until we broke the bed.

I groaned low and grabbed my cock, wrapping a firm fist around it. It jerked against my grip, thick and leaking. Precum was already beading at the tip, proof that just the thought of her had me ready to explode.

“You fucking tease,” I muttered, pumping slowly.

My thumb circled the head, spreading the wetness around before dragging down the thick vein along the underside. My balls tightened instantly. My hips shifted forward on instinct.

I was so fucking gone.

I could see her now, on her knees in the middle of my office, red lips parting, that wicked look in her eyes as she whispered, “Let me taste it, sir.”

Sir.

God help me.

She moaned when I pushed into her mouth. She choked on it, loved it. Saliva dripping down her chin, eyes fluttering as she gagged herself willingly on my cock.

My grip tightened, pumping harder now, faster. The slap of skin against skin echoed off the tiled walls, obscene and perfect.

I didn’t care. I needed this. Needed her. Even if it was just in my fucking head.

I tipped my head back against the shower wall and groaned, stroking faster, hips fucking into my hand now. My cock was rock-hard, angry red, throbbing with every pulse of desire I couldn’t shake.

I imagined her bent over my desk, panties around one ankle, blouse half-ripped off.

“Beg for it, Emily,” I growled under my breath, stroking harder.

She’d whimper, glancing back over her shoulder, lips swollen and cheeks flushed.

“Please, Mr. Steele… I need your cock.”

That fucking voice.

That sweet, filthy mouth.

I was losing it.

I could almost feel her pussy squeezing around me, tight and wet, sucking me in so deep I couldn’t tell where I ended and she began.

I hissed between clenched teeth and twisted my wrist, pumping faster, messier now. My thighs tensed. My abs clenched.

“Take it, baby,” I panted, vision blurring. “Take every fucking inch…”

My balls pulled tight.

The pressure built like a firestorm in my spine.

One more stroke,

And I snapped.

With a guttural groan, I came hard, thick spurts of cum spilling over my fist, shooting across the shower wall. My body jerked with every wave, cock pulsing violently in my hand as the release dragged out longer than I expected.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I leaned forward, panting, my free hand pressed flat to the wall for support. Water washed over me, swirling away the mess, but it didn’t take the guilt or the craving.

Even now, after blowing the hardest load I’d had in weeks, I was still half-hard.

Still not satisfied.

Emily had ruined me.

I couldn’t look at her without remembering how tight she was.

How loud she screamed my name.

How she clenched around me when she came.

And the worst part?

I had to see her in a few hours. Sitting across my desk. Acting like she wasn’t the best fuck of my life.

Like I wasn’t still jerking off to her every night.

She didn’t need to know. She couldn’t.

Because if she did?

I’d bend her over the nearest surface and remind her who made her scream like that the first time.

And this time?

I wouldn’t stop.

My hips jerked forward into the rhythm I’d craved since she walked out of my office today.

All because of that damn kiss.

Sabrina’s unwanted, sloppy lips had cost me the only person I cared about. I should’ve pushed her off me faster, should’ve locked my damn office door. Should’ve known better.

But all I could think of now was Emily, how tight she was, how sweet her scent was when I buried my face in her neck, how she clung to me like I was her whole world.

“Emily,” I groaned, breath ragged, guttural, and needy.

I felt the orgasm before it hit, deep in my gut, tightening like a coil pulled taut. The heat exploded through me in a rush, my release spilling down my hand, hot and thick, painting the tile in front of me.

I stood there, chest heaving, heart pounding, still bracing against the wall like the orgasm had knocked the strength out of my legs. And honestly? It had.

The water kept falling. The ache didn’t leave.

I wasn’t just hard for her body. I wanted her. Her laugh. Her sass. Her eyes that saw right through me. The sex? Yeah, it was mind-blowing. But the real pain was knowing I may never get to see her again. That I may have ruined it.

With a muttered curse, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel. I scrubbed at my face with it, not bothering to dry the rest of my body completely. I stared at myself in the mirror.

“You’re a fucking mess, Dominic,” I muttered to my reflection. “All this for one woman.”

But she wasn’t just one woman.

She was the woman.

I pulled on a crisp black shirt and buttoned it halfway, rolling up the sleeves. My silver watch slid on smoothly. I hated suits, but Sabrina’s father was old money, stuck in the Victorian era. And appearances? They mattered to men like him.

I chose a navy blazer over it, sharp and cold like the armor I needed to wear.

Theo called again, probably to wish me luck before walking into the mansion of my doom. I declined. I didn’t need a pep talk. I needed whiskey. And maybe a shovel to bury Sabrina and her plastic personality in.

As the driver pulled up in front of the Rodriguez estate, I muttered under my breath, “God, give me strength… or at least a mild case of food poisoning.”

The butler greeted me with a stiff nod and let me in. The mansion hadn’t changed, still screaming of money and bad taste. Crystal chandeliers big enough to crush a man, golden wallpaper that hurt to look at, and a lingering scent of imported roses that tried way too hard.

Sabrina bounced down the stairs like a bouncing Barbie, all pink silk and too much perfume. She threw her arms around me, but I stiffened.

“Babe, you’re late! Daddy hates it when you’re late.”

I smiled like a good little fiancé. “Then let’s not keep Daddy waiting.”

She giggled. Gag.

We sat at the dining table with Mr. Rodriguez at the head, his eyes sharp and judgmental as ever. His wife didn’t say a word, probably because her facelift made blinking difficult.

“Dominic,” the old man said. “When do we begin planning the wedding?”

I gave a practiced smile. “Soon, sir. Very soon.”

Sabrina squeezed my thigh under the table. I nearly flinched. I looked down at my plate, pretending not to notice how she was trying to play footsie with my leg.

The chicken was dry. The wine tasted like betrayal. And every minute I had to pretend to care about Sabrina’s story about her spa day made me consider leaping out the nearest window.

As dessert was served, some weird French pastry that looked like deflated boobs, I excused myself to the balcony for fresh air.

I pulled out my phone. Opened Emily’s contact.

Typed.

“I miss you. More than I should. I’m sorry.”

Stared at it.

And deleted it.

No point. She probably hated me now. And if I were her, I would too.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket just as Sabrina came out, fake pout in place.

“Are you okay, Dommy?”

If she called me Dommy one more time, I was jumping off this goddamn balcony.

“Peachy,” I said with a tight smile. “Just peachy.”

She looped her arms around me. “I was thinking, maybe next weekend, we could go to Milan. I saw this Gucci coat I really want. You know, for our honeymoon wardrobe.”

“Sure,” I said. “Right after I book my appointment to sell a kidney.”

She blinked. Didn’t get the sarcasm. Of course.

I lit a cigarette instead. Took a long drag.

I needed to get out. Soon. Before this farce swallowed me whole.

And somehow… find a way back to Emily.

Back in my car, I loosened my tie and leaned back. The driver didn’t speak. Good man.

My thoughts drifted again to the feel of Emily’s skin under my hands. The way she said my name like it was a prayer. The way her body welcomed mine like we were made to be one.

Tonight, I had faked love with Sabrina in a mansion full of lies.

But my heart? My body?

Still belonged to a woman I might have already lost.

I needed a plan.

And fast.