Chapter 19: Little Liar: Chapter 19

Mom steps back, her mouth open. Then rage takes over. “You have some nerve,” she sneers, “to show your face around here.”

She’s mad. I fully expected her to hate me, but I’m not a fan of the way she’s looking at me like I’m a monster.

My brows knit together; I’m confused by the slight twinge of pain in my chest. I knew I’d lost her as a mother the second I laid my fists on Dad, but this has just set it in stone for me.

I lost my father the day I was arrested.

I’ve lost her too.

As angry as Mom is, she also looks terrified of me. And that’s all my fault. But why send me money? Why give me enough funds to survive so I didn’t need to try finding work as an ex-convict with a terrible track record with communication and behavior?

“You…” She stops and shakes her head. “It’s your fault. Every hurdle in Olivia’s life is because of you. You’re the reason she ran out of work crying. Why won’t you leave her the fuck alone?”

She slaps me across the face, making my head turn to the side, my cheek burning. She fixes her bag on her shoulder and marches away without waiting for a response, her heels clicking until she climbs into the car picking her up. It drives off.

My mom just hit me.

So did my bio-mom.

Why do they keep fucking hitting me?

My confusion vanishes the second her words register with me. Did she just say Olivia was crying because of me?

I pull my phone out and try to call her again, but there’s no reply. The security guard walks out of the building and locks the door, so I know she’s not in there—the lights are all out too.

Fuck.

Checking the cameras in our house while I cross the road, I don’t see her, and no movement has been detected. Then I open my other app—the one I haven’t used since she came back to me—and check her old place, then stop when I reach my bike.

She’s there. In her apartment. Not ours.

I only have one camera left in there. It’s facing the front door, just above a picture of the family, hidden, so she’ll never know it’s there.

Her bag is by the door.

Fuck. What did I do?

I pocket my phone, throw my leg over the bike, shove my head in the helmet, and set off to her apartment. I still own the one across from her. It has too much shit in it for me to give up right now. If she knew about all the pictures, TV screens, lists of names I hunted—people who even as much as looked at her—she would lose her shit with me. I managed to take the ones I still need to the house, but not the rest. She’d faint if she knew just how much I was buried in her privacy.

The cops would pull me over if they saw how fast I’m going, especially in the pouring rain—I zip between cars, squeezing the throttle to gain even more speed until I reach our street.

I pause at the main entranceway, glancing over my shoulder to see a black car stationary outside. The window slides up, hiding whoever it is behind blacked-out glass.

I unlock her apartment with the spare key I had made months ago, then close the door quietly and pause when I hear soft sobs traveling down the hallway from her bedroom.

Despite it only being weeks, the place feels different. I used to come here all the time when she was drugged and passed out. It was like a second home. But Xander came in, changed her wardrobe, made her dye her hair, and the place feels more poisoned than the bottles of wine still in her fridge.

The closer I get to her cries, the more my nerves shatter at the thought of my Olivia being hurt. If it wasn’t me that hurt her, then who is making her cry like this? Who the fuck do I need to kill this time? Everyone else Mom set her up with while I was in prison is buried in my backyard with no trace back to me. The only reason Xander is still standing is because he’s literally untouchable given how much protection he has.

When I reach the room, the cries are louder, and she’s face down on her bed, her body shaking with sobs. My breath halts at the sight.

I want to say her name, but my mouth moves, and no sound comes out. My heart is fucking racing, and all I can do is slowly walk to the side of her bed, lower to my knees beside it, and place my hand on her shoulder.

She flinches, growing silent, except for the sniffs she can’t control from hyperventilating.

“I can’t lose you,” she cries, not looking at me. “I can’t.”

She won’t. Olivia is stuck with me until one of us dies, and even then, we’re still bonded—sealed together by our undying love. Even if she tells me to leave, I won’t. I’m hers and only hers, even if she doesn’t fucking want me.

I’ll take a thousand slaps from Mom. I’m staying.

I kick off my boots, strip my wet clothes to my boxers, and climb into bed beside her. I freeze when I see how red her eyes are—she’s looking at me like she’s in pain. She’s been crying for hours by the looks of her face.

“Why can’t I be in control of my own life? Why did Mom make me like this?” Her entire body wracks with how much she’s trembling in my hold. “I hate who I am because I just want to please her. She saved me, only to put me back in danger. I won’t marry him. I promise I won’t leave you again. She’s setting up a meeting with them, but I won’t do it. I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

My chest swells at the same time my hands fist. Mom made her sad. I should do something about that. Maybe a threat, or maybe I completely ruin her fucking life like she’s trying to do to Olivia.

“I can’t breathe,” she says, gasping and shaking again. “I need you. And that’s what scares me. It scares me how much I need you.”

Holding her tightly through her sobs, I bury my hand into her hair and massage her scalp, placing kisses on her temple and tear-streaked cheek until she falls asleep. I stay here, still as a statue, and wait until she’s completely out cold before I slip away from under her.

I rise from the bed, watching her for a long minute while I try to plan my next move.

I need to deal with Mom. It’s her fault Olivia is upset. It’s her fault she was forced into this life. It’s her fault Xander wants her, and it’ll be her fucking fault when I bury her next to everyone else who becomes an obstacle between me and Olivia. I have two more left to deal with before we can move on.

The image of Mom’s lifeless eyes on me as I rob her of her last breath doesn’t make me excited or want to jump at the opportunity of revenge, but if I have to do it, I will.

She and my dad will be sitting down for their dinner—made by the manor’s chef—about now. They’ll discuss work, Olivia’s marriage, and how ridiculous it is that me and her are together.

Two eliminations.

I can do it discreetly too.

Olivia groans and reaches for my hand. “Hold me,” she whispers. “Please.”

My plan can wait until tomorrow.

“Make it stop,” she says, more tears spilling down her cheeks like she hadn’t just fallen asleep. Her body trembles as I come back down beside her, pulling her into my arms.

She’s sobbing again, and I’m clueless—surely I should know how to calm her down? I’m supposed to be her boyfriend.

Do I make her a coffee? Run her a bath? Maybe play some music?

Trembling, she’s uncontrollably crying against me, and I’m frozen. Whenever she was upset when we were younger, I’d cuddle her until she fell asleep. Twice, I held her up in my arms and swayed around my bedroom while she passed out with her head on my shoulder.

This feels different—those moments were me being a good big brother. I’m not the same guy I was then, and Olivia is different too.

I want to ask her what I can do to help, but words aren’t coming to me, and she’s curled up against me, so I can’t sign. I stroke her hair, feeling how hot she is.

I drag my hand down her back and up inside her shirt to feel her bare skin, and she’s sweating. Her entire body is hot. My girl is so fucking emotional, she’s going to make herself ill. I need to distract her.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, I try massaging her shoulder, her hip and ribs, as she hikes her leg, but she’s still crying, still clinging to me like I’ll disappear.

Then an idea comes to me, and I fist Olivia’s hair and hold her there as I sit up against the headboard and tug down my pants and boxers, freeing my cock. She doesn’t seem fazed by the fact I’m pulling off my clothes—she even moves herself so I can kick my pants from being trapped around my feet.

I’m not hard. But this isn’t about me—this is me trying to calm down my little sister. “Open,” I force out as I tighten my grip on her hair and rest her head in my lap, using my other hand to press the tip of my dick to her lips. “Put me in your mouth.”

Just when I think she’s going to scowl at me and tell me to get fucked, she relaxes a little and parts her lips, taking most of my softness and closing her eyes with a hum.

Fuck.

Tears are still streaming down her face, but she’s not in hysterics anymore—her tongue is wet against my cock, keeping it nice and warm as she heavily breathes through her nose.

Just sitting in her mouth.

It’s somewhat calming her.

Slowly, I grow inside her mouth—I can’t fucking help it. Even as she hums again, her body shaking from her hyperventilating, I can’t stop myself from reacting. Heat crawls up my spine, and the soft way I stroke her hair is the total opposite of how I’m feeling inside.

Her tongue glides along me as she swallows, and I tense my jaw at how her mouth tightens around my cock. Her head stays in my lap as I thicken and stretch against her tongue until she can’t help but suck, making my balls tingle, my own layer of sweat sticking to my forehead as I stare down at an angel—her mouth stuffed with my dick.

It’s like her anxiety is lessening, replaced with a calm that spreads to me—I want to sink into the mattress with us connected. I want to touch her too. I want to feel her heat against my tongue while my cock stays settled in her mouth.

“Shhh. No more sad tears.” Then I stop stroking her hair as her eyes open to look at me. “You’re my good little sister, aren’t you?”

She nods, her head still resting on my lap as she sucks, not moving, just sucking and humming, and the sadness starts to vanish from her eyes.

Swallowing again, her throat contracts around the head of my dick, and my hips absently push against her, encouraging her to take more of me, and I bite my lip as I hear her gag.

Fuck. I can’t handle this. What was supposed to be me calming her down and distracting her from whatever had given her anxiety has now turned into me wanting to fuck her.

I won’t.

I can’t.

Keeping my dick in her mouth, I shift so I’m on my back, readjusting her so we’re in the sixty-nine position. I tug down her shorts, her panties, and my hands shake as I grasp at her inner thighs. Pausing, I look down at Olivia to see her eyes wide, mouth filled with cock, watching, waiting, the need for me to taste her in her hungry gaze.

I rest my head on her inner thigh, the tip of my nose touching just below her entrance, and she whimpers as I lightly breathe against her pussy. I’m trembling more than she is, but I hold back, keeping my hand gripping her skin while I settle, relaxing into our position as Olivia’s tongue glides up the underside of my dick.

She pops me from her mouth. “Please,” she begs.

I make a dismissive sound and shake my head, inhaling deeply, feeling the heat of her radiating against my mouth. So fucking close. I could stick my tongue out and taste her, push it in deep and make her come, but when I hear that she’s still hyperventilating, a sign she’s still deep in her emotions, I stay still.

I want to rock my hips—her mouth is so fucking perfect.

I want to tense my ass cheeks and empty deep in her throat—hear her choke and gag and sputter for air while I rob her of it.

Closing my eyes, I focus on everything else but the way she always moans my name. Hugging her hips to my chest, I rest my face between her legs, desperate to taste her but having enough control not to stick my tongue in her pussy.

Then my eyes ping open as she palms my balls and sucks me all the way into the back of her throat. It contracts around my cock—she’s sucking and licking, bobbing her head as her tongue strokes my flesh.

The groan I let out vibrates against her pussy, and she sobs loud enough to echo off the walls as she arches her back, forcing herself against my mouth.

Instead of going wild with her cunt, I keep the side of my head resting on her inner thigh, opening my mouth, and pushing my tongue out, allowing her to ride me as she swallows each inch of me.

Olivia grinds that perfect pussy against my wet tongue until she finds her release, and the way she cries around me, that soft hand strangling the base of my thickness, makes me latch my lips around her needy clit and suck her into a diabolic mess as she comes.

It only takes me a few of my own hard thrusts into her crying mouth to send a shockwave of pleasure down my spine to my balls. I empty down her throat, loving the way she struggles to breathe—she tries to push me back, but I wait a few seconds before I grant her oxygen.

I sit up and wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. “Why were you crying?” I ask clearly.

Barely lucid, she slides her palms down her face and keeps her fingers over her eyes. “It was just a bad day.”

“Liar.”

Her hands drop before she shifts on the bed, crossing her legs to face me on the mattress. “Mom gave me crap about you and my role in the family, that’s all. I’ll deal with it.”

“Xander?”

Her shoulder lifts. “I haven’t heard from him.”

I fist my hands and run my tongue across my teeth. When I struggle to find my words, I sign, Do you want to leave town? We’ll leave everyone behind. Fuck them.

She smiles, then it turns into a non-humorous laugh as she shakes her head. “Dad is here, and so is Molly. My friends are nearby too.”

I stare at her, silently telling her they mean nothing and we can easily leave. What’s stopping her? We have money, we have a bike for transport, and we can buy somewhere to live. All these assholes are extra baggage she can drop. All they’re doing is taking up her time—time that should be spent with me.

Olivia sighs and pulls her panties back on, and then she’s climbing up beside me in bed and pulling me to lie down. “I’m tired.”

It takes her minutes to fall asleep, and all I can do is stare at her while I try to imagine what the fuck she dreams about.