Chapter 22: Little Liar: Chapter 22

For some reason, being at work has me feeling on edge.

Abigail has insisted I don’t go in at all this week and tells me I’ll understand, and Molly has been calling me all morning, but I’m too busy.

I’ll get back to them both on my break. I have fifteen emails to respond to, and Mom needs me to take her coffee at midday.

My phone dings, and the message that pops up has me pausing.

She attaches a video, and the five-second clip, which has been taken from Molly’s window, shows Malachi across the street from the Vize manor, smoking, while sitting on his bike.

I open my chat with Malachi and type. All my messages have been ignored since I came to work earlier. He’s not speaking to me for some reason, and I hate it.

He reads it, but no dots appear to tell me he’s typing back a reply. Ten minutes pass, and I accept he’s not going to respond. I try to call, but he hangs up on the second ring.

With my heart beating hard in my chest, confused and terrified, I shake my head and type one last message.

How hypocritical of me—I’m keeping secrets from him, yet I’m demanding he reply to a text message and throw words like that at him.

An hour later, the door of my office opens without the person announcing themselves, and the prickling sensation at the back of my neck spreads all over me, mixing with the anticipation of the silence and footsteps that pull my flat lips into a smile.

Everything was fine when he dropped me off. He kissed me then went off to do his normal morning exercise. A run in the woods, boxing in the garage, and some other workouts he does in the yard.

For some reason, I’m not allowed in the backyard. And if I do go out there, he’s in a rush to get me either into the woodland or back into the house.

I type away on my computer, pretending I’m not paying attention and that my body doesn’t instantly become alive and aware of Malachi closing the door behind him. Feigning indifference, I act as though I’m not in the least bit affected by him—I keep my eyes on the screen, my fingers moving over the keyboard.

His quiet is always so loud to me.

I love it.

My breathing grows heavy as he walks to the glass panel that gives me a view of everyone else in the office—they’re all at their desks, working, none the wiser as Malachi pulls the string to snap the blinds shut, hiding us from their potential attention.

Still feeling his lips on me from this morning, I shift in my seat, swallow, and trap my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Are you here to kidnap me again, big brother?”

He doesn’t look at me as he turns and walks towards me, to my desk, and snatches up my letter opener. He flips it in his hand a few times as he stalks the room, changing the energy around us as he circles my desk until he’s behind me.

Just when I think he’s going to kiss me or speak or break this tension, I gasp as the cold, sharp edge of the letter opener presses to my throat.

His other hand fists at my hair, yanking my head back so I’m staring at the ceiling, his hard face glaring down at me.

No words pass between us; only our breaths can be heard in the room. I want to ask him what’s wrong—even when he’s quiet, he’s the loudest.

My mouth parts to ask him, but he grits his teeth and yanks me to my feet, the blade nicking at my skin but not enough to hurt—the sting follows me as he bends me over the wooden desk, removing the sharpness from my throat and stabbing it through the desk.

My eyes widen as I look forward—he’s stabbed through my sleeves, trapping me in place as he pushes off me and starts unbuckling his belt.

“Tell me why you kept it from me,” he demands, the leather of his belt snapping as he pulls it from the loops of his pants.

“If you want me to fuck this,” he says, slapping my pussy from behind and making me flinch, “then you’ll tell me, Olivia.”

Gasping, I ask, “Tell you what? What did I keep from you?”

He spanks me so hard, the pain vibrates through me.

“Mason is dead.”

I bite my lip, refusing to speak.

He kicks my legs together then wraps his belt around my thighs and fastens it tight to keep them shut.

“He died nearly ten years ago.” His voice is shaky. His emotions are beating him up. “The same night I was arrested, he fucking crashed his bike and died.”

I flinch as he spreads my cheeks and a ball of spit hits my back hole. I shiver, expecting a finger or a thumb, but I pause when I feel the pierced head of his cock. He doesn’t give me a chance to ready myself before he pushes it into my ass, fully sheathing himself.

My nails dig into the wood of my desk, my body on fire from the sudden fullness. I gasp, pain following as he grabs my hair and pulls out, only to slam back in again.

“He’s dead,” he grits, thrusting hard once more, fucking my ass with so much hatred, my pussy begs for attention.

All I can do is chew on my bottom lip to stop the entire office hearing me cry as my brother fucks me over my desk.

I let out an accidental scream as he pulls out and thrusts hard, hitting my hips into the desk. He tuts and leans over me further, which only draws him deeper, then takes the metal ruler from my stationery holder.

Malachi forces it into my mouth and closes my jaw with a firm grip.

“If someone hears,” he says slowly, moving in and out and making me cry around the metal, “I won’t stop. I’ll fuck your ass in front of them.”

Malachi has a bit of an obsession with anal—my butt is like his safe place recently, but he also uses it as punishment. He knows I want my pussy fucked. My entire body is screaming for it as he pounds into my back hole, knocking things from my desk and shaking my computer so much, I think the screen might snap from the stand and smash on the floor.

There’s a knock at the door, the shadow of someone on the other side, but Malachi ignores them and keeps fucking me, stretching me, bruising my hips against the desk and yanking my hair so hard, I think I might lose a few strands.

I’m panting through my nose, breathing heavily, my eyes watering—if he just reaches his hand down and touches me, it’ll be everything. I’m throbbing and needy and seconds from exploding.

Just one touch. I’m silently begging.

“Olivia? The stupid door is locked.”

Abigail.

She knows how to—

The door opens after she messes with the handle, making us both freeze.

Malachi doesn’t pull out when he sees it’s my best friend; he just huffs and presses his forehead into my back.

Meanwhile, Abbi closes the door, only noticing us when she turns around. Her eyes widen, and she drops her bag to cover her eyes. She parts her fingers to make sure what she’s seeing is real—me, bent over my desk with a letter opener stabbed through my sleeves to keep me in place, a ruler in my mouth keeping me gagged, and my brother’s cock in my ass.

She’s not in a hurry to leave either. She crosses her arms. “We need to talk,” she says. “I’d appreciate it if I had your full attention.”

I try to budge, but Malachi takes his forehead off my back, his hand snatching my nape, and I gasp as he pulls out to the tip and hammers back in so hard, the desk creaks.

“Hey!” Abigail grabs a pen and throws it at him but misses. “Stop fucking your sister! This is important!”

Malachi grunts, lying his front on my back as he thrusts again, turning his head away from Abigail and snatching my lobe between his teeth, filling my ass with every inch of him.

Another pen flies towards Malachi, smacking him in the head this time.

It annoys him enough to stop, his pissed-off gaze lifting to her.

I spit the ruler out. “What is it?”

“The Reznikovs are coming tomorrow morning,” she says, not taking her eyes off Malachi as he still doesn’t pull out of me. “I’ll come as moral support since your mom is psycho about it all.”

“How do you know it’s tomorrow?”

Her eyes flicker to me with a touch of hesitation. She lets out a forced laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

My brow raises. “You don’t know how you know?”

“I can’t focus. Please tell him to get out of your ass and leave,” she says. “Anyone could just walk in and see the two of you. The entire office thinks you’re siblings.”

Malachi isn’t going to leave—I can already feel the rage building around him. He was interrupted once before, and it nearly cost our father’s life. Who’s to say he won’t hurt Abigail?

Despite my contracting pussy, desperate for attention, and the way my ass grips Malachi’s cock, I pull my sleeves free of the letter opener and try to stand.

Malachi doesn’t budge.

“Can you please leave?” I don’t know who I’m talking to, but both are offended—Malachi because I move in a way that means he has to pull out; Abigail because she’s offended by his entire existence.

Malachi hides himself as he tucks his dick away, scowling at Abbi like she’s crashed his party and stolen his favorite present.

She raises her brow and pops her hip. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

His jaw tenses, eyes burning into her.

I grab his wrist when he takes a step forward. “Wait for me,” I tell him. “I’ll finish up my last email and meet you outside.”

This isn’t finished, he signs.

I smile because I absolutely hope it’s not.

Abigail raises her brow when he closes the door behind him. “What the fuck?”

I groan. “He found out about Mason.”

Her face drops. “Oh.”

“Dad didn’t think it would be good for him to know. Even when he was in prison, he said it was detrimental to Malachi’s mental health and he’d know eventually, just not yet. It’s been eight years. We thought the danger had passed.”

Her eyes flash. “Eight years or not, he was his best friend. Of course he’s going to be upset that everyone kept it from him.” She crosses her arms. “What are you going to do about tomorrow’s meeting?”

“Refuse and run.”