Little Liar: A Dark Taboo Romance (The Web of Silence Duet Book 2)
Little Liar: Chapter 9

Mom and Dad have far too many friends here—the pool is packed with cheerleaders, music is blaring, and the barbeque has a queue of people I’ve never met before in my life. Some of them haven’t even spoken a word to my parents.

It’s Mom’s birthday. I think she paid people to be here because there’s not a chance in fucking hell this many people tolerate that woman enough to celebrate her day of birth.

In a way, I used to worship Mom for saving me. I’m still thankful, which is probably why I put up with her shit. She raised me, put clothes on my back, gave me money whenever I needed it—birthdays and vacations were always extravagant, and she lets me do whatever I want. Unlike Olivia, who has extremely strict rules, even at the age of eighteen.

Going from having nothing to everything, I know I owe Mom a lot, but because of her, I lost someone who belonged to me from the moment we met in that airport.

She let my sister fuck someone else, and for what? To prove she’s got what it takes to marry into a wealthy family? Or so Mom could finally solidify how much control and influence she has on the life of a girl she raised since she was a kid?

My jaw tenses at that thought, and I gulp half of my beer, needing something stronger to banish the bitter taste of betrayal.

Mason is standing beside me, but I didn’t invite any of my other friends—not that they’d fit in with these assholes anyway. They’d end up taking drugs and wrecking the place. Plus, one of them would flirt with my sister since they think she’s pretty, and then I’d be arrested for multiple murders.

I trust Mason now that he’s stopped trying to annoy me by commenting on how hot my sister is. But given the way he’s staring at Olivia’s group of friends in the pool, I’m starting to think inviting him was a mistake. If I replace out he’s looking at my girl, I’ll fry his eyeballs and make him eat them with ketchup.

Not really. Mason can handle himself and puts up a good fight against me. We’ve had a few scraps over stupid shit where neither of us came out the winner, and I’m in no mood for a bloody nose or broken bones.

Who’s the purple-haired girl? he signs, gesturing towards Abigail.

I roll my eyes. Don’t waste your time.

Sometimes he’ll sign with me, and other times, he’ll speak. Mostly, though, it’s so we can slaughter our company with words without any of them knowing what the fuck we’re discussing. He learned sign language as soon as we became friends—he asked his parents to bring a tutor in, so I’d have a friend in school.

But if he fucks Abigail and breaks her heart, I’ll need to hear about it from Olivia for the next few months until she gets over him. Mason isn’t monogamous and likes to have more than one partner at a time—a recipe for disaster when it comes to him having any interest in one of those cheerleaders.

She’s the one who keeps looking at me. He presses the heel of his boot against the wall, dragging smoke into his lungs as he studies Olivia’s friend.

She’s a headcase, I tell him, finishing the rest of my beer and heading over to the ice barrel filled with bottles to grab another.

When I get back to Mason, he signs, I think your dad is in a shitty mood.

My eyes drift towards him. Dad looks like he wants to disappear or set himself on fire as he watches Mom socializing like the butterfly she is. He’s the total opposite of her in every way. He hates people and has no patience despite being a high-profile defense attorney.

That makes two of us though. I can’t stand being around Mom’s friends. We’re more alike than we both would like to admit—Dad hates people; I hate people. He won’t fake a conversation; neither will I. Our friend groups are small. In fact, I don’t think he even has any friends.

We even glare at each other the same way. If I didn’t have memories from before the Vize family, I’d truly believe I was his biological son.

Mason shifts beside me, sighing. “I know you told me not to go there, but the little purple-haired cheerleader is looking at me like she wants me in every hole. Give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t.”

I silently laugh. She’s clingy.

She can cling to my dick.

Searching for more reasons, I chew my lip. She flirts with everyone.

So do I.

I breathe out an annoyed huff and glare at him until he rolls his eyes.

Just in time, Abigail climbs out of the pool and tells Olivia she’s running into the house to use the bathroom—it’s the first time I’ve seen Mason put out a cigarette and give himself a few breaths before telling me he’ll be right back with a pat on my chest.

I quietly tut and shake my head. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into with that girl. She’ll eat him alive, from the stories I’ve heard from Olivia.

Drawing my attention back to the pool, I ignore the irritation in my gut. Has the music gotten louder? I become hyper aware of my surroundings the longer Mason is gone from my side—I hear giggling from Olivia, a scream as someone splashes, and the sizzle of the grill.

So many faces, so many eyes, so many voices, and all I can fully focus on is my little sister. She keeps screaming and splashing her friends, then climbing out the pool in her tight black bikini and cannonballing back in.

I know people are watching her. How could they not?

She’s looked at me a few times, caught me looking back at her, but it doesn’t put a frown on her face or spoil her fun—if anything, she grows more comfortable and confident, and fuck is she beautiful when she believes in herself.

I’ve noticed her mood depleting recently. Even her kisses are growing more desperate while she lies to herself that she’s only teaching me.

Annoyingly, she’s always at Parker’s house, or at Adam’s. It’s like they’re just passing her to each other, despite none of them knowing the other exists.

Adam is terrified of me. I’ve followed him on my bike, slashed his car tires, held him against the wall by the throat until he begged me to believe that he doesn’t even want to be with Olivia. Both our parents are forcing them.

I haven’t bothered with him much the last few weeks. He’s no threat, as much as I want to beat the shit out of him out of pure jealousy.

The emotion is pointless. I have an ugly green monster on my shoulder, angry about the guy even though I get to kiss Olivia whenever I want—when she comes to my room or I go to hers, her “lessons” getting more handsy by the night. My anger issues about Mom’s obsession to marry my sister off have been overshadowed by the joy I feel every time Olivia whimpers against my lips while riding my fingers like my own little whore.

Four times.

Five tonight, once everyone fucks off and leaves me alone with her. It never goes further than a fingering, despite what I signed to her the morning after that first night—that I wanted her to teach me how it felt to have her lips around my cock. She went out with Parker later that day—feels like she has been out with him fucking constantly—so I couldn’t make good on my threat, but every moment I’ve been able to steal since then, I’ve taken things are far as she’ll let me.

She still hasn’t touched me properly. She always grabs my dick through my shorts but never skin-on-skin or stroking me. Apparently, the lessons are about teaching me and not her doing stuff to me, and I’m not going to argue, as much as I can’t wait to shove her to her knees and watch her eyes water from choking on my—

My thoughts are interrupted as another family walks down the side of the house, drawing a huff and a muttered “fucking hell” from my dad. My beer nearly cracks in my grip when I see my dad’s business partner, Victor Melrose, and his imbecile son, Parker. He’s a preppy asshole. Shaggy blond hair, clothes too big for him yet he thinks he’s a style icon. Looking like he smells of sweat from five days ago although he’s never lifted a weight in his life.

He’ll look so good covered in his own blood—still a dickhead but unmoving, unseeing, silent, dead. I’ll drag it out. Make sure he’s aware of his attacker and feel every bone snap while I engrave me and Olivia’s names into his skin before I remove that too.

His eyes are studying the yard and the pool. His father shoulders him and points to Olivia. She’s concerned and questioning the purple-haired girl she calls her best friend and spends a lot of time with.

I hate her too. I don’t like the immature influence she has on Olivia, but my gaze is pulled to the guy who thinks he can have my sister. The guy who, no matter how many times I threaten him, keeps appearing and getting on my fucking nerves.

His eyes clash with mine, and I see him paling before turning away.

I run my tongue across my teeth as Mason appears once more—he looks pissed, my gaze flicking to Abigail as she rolls her eyes and gives him the middle finger.

“I think she likes me,” he says even though he looks like someone shoved a knee against his nuts. I need to come over more often.

No he doesn’t. And he won’t. I’ll tell Olivia her friend is no longer welcome because I refuse to have our groups tangled up in drama.

Who’s the preppy guy?

I grit my teeth. Someone my sister might be marrying.

He snorts, smirking at the evil look in my eye. You wanna fuck him up?

I nod. Parker is three years older than me, four if you count the random few months because my birthday is before his, but I tower over him and have nearly two times the muscle mass. I could squash him like a bug within a minute.

Olivia hasn’t noticed Parker yet—she’s too busy gossiping with her friends and eye-fucking me when no one is looking. Her hair is down her back, halfway to her perky ass, and her bikini clings to her curves. I can’t stand the thought of everyone looking at her, including Parker.

Has he fucked my sister?

I look at him again, watching him push his hands into his slacks and laugh at something my mom says. To the left, my dad is drinking a non-alcoholic beer, scowling at the same person I am. His gaze moves over to me, then he glances at Parker again, his eyes darkening with a deadly glint.

Good. We both hate him.

That means he doesn’t have Dad’s approval. He’ll never get to marry her. But will he give me his blessing? Should I ask again, but this time tell them that we’re together and in love? That I’ll treat her right and make her happy?

Someone else appears at the party—they greet the Melrose family then my mom, and my heart pounds at the anticipation of fights breaking out.

I swear to fucking God, if Adam shows up, I’m blowing up this yard and everyone in it.

The party goes on for the next two hours. For 120 minutes, I scowl at Parker and the way he keeps attempting to get Olivia’s attention. She goes to the food table, dodging him when he says something to her, and then when she sits on the ledge of the pool, she jumps into the water when he tries to crouch beside her.

Good girl. At least I know she doesn’t like him.

His dad will be forcing him to approach her. Mom is openly flirting with the guy, her hand going to his chest while she laughs at something that isn’t even funny, and then whispers stuff in his ear. I go to stand beside my dad near the back door to the kitchen while Mason floats over to the cheerleaders to flirt with Abigail again.

“Your hooligan friend better not cause trouble,” he tells me. “I’m in no mood to beat the shit out of a teenager with more tattoos than my insolent son.”

Mason is twenty, but I don’t correct him.

I take a big gulp of my beer, not gracing him with any response. The fact I’m even standing beside him is good enough after he basically called me arrogant.

The sound of giggling has me glaring in the same direction as him.

Surely he’s aware of Mom’s obvious flirting? She’s seconds from taking Parker’s dad into the house. He’s staring at my mom’s tits like his wife isn’t five feet away with their son.

Fed up with the blatant disrespect, I step forward, but Dad grabs my arm. “Don’t bother,” he says with no emotion. “Let her make her own bed and lie in it.”

Glancing back at my mom, I huff and lean against the wall, checking my phone to see if our friends are out riding. Not that we’d be leaving until Parker fucks off and Olivia is in my bed, already coming down from her orgasm, waiting for me to return to cuddle her to sleep.

The music gets even louder, and my skin itches from all the voices.

Dad notices. “You don’t need to be here if it’s too much.”

I swallow.

Blank him out.

Blank it all out.

“Your mother will understand.”

No. Mom is too busy fucking up her marriage by batting her eyelashes at a married man, and my dad isn’t doing a damn thing about it. She wouldn’t give a fuck if I was here or not—but Olivia would be disappointed.

Shocker, Mason and Abigail go back into the house, or more like, he follows her, and she has a smile hidden behind her scowl.

If they fuck in my bed, I’ll burn them alive.

“Malachi!” my sister calls out, my eyes already on her. “Can you help me?”

I tilt my head in confusion.

“The filters won’t turn on for the pool,” she clarifies, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Please.”

I down the rest of my beer and head towards her, feeling Parker’s eyes burning into the back of my head—Dad’s probably are too as I vanish around the side of the pool house to where all the filters are. She can never fix them herself.

As soon as I’m out of view, Olivia grabs me by the shirt and yanks me towards her, backing herself up against the brick wall and cupping my cheek in her palm. “Hi,” she says, smiling. “This is a lesson on spontaneous kissing.”

I smile back and wrap my arms around the small of her back, pressing our bodies together.

“Kiss me,” she whispers.

My mouth comes down to her, chaste, gentle presses of our lips turning open-mouthed until our tongues are moving together.

I can taste her fruity drink, and she can probably taste mint from my chewing gum and smoke, with a hint of beer. Or she’s not focusing on that because she’s turning us around and sitting me down on the ledge, straddling my thighs in her tight bikini.

She’s either drunk or she’s confident no one will come around here and catch us. The place is crawling with people, yet she’s got her tongue down my throat and making my eyes roll by just kissing me.

Fuck. This girl owns me.

“You’re angry,” she says between strokes of her tongue against mine. “Because he’s here.”

I nod, biting her bottom lip. I can’t sign because my hands are all over her, and plus, words couldn’t describe how angry I feel right now.

I hold her tightly to my body, devouring her mouth like it could be the last time she wants to teach me something intimate. Her skin is smooth and warm from the sun, yet wet from being in the pool—she molds into me like she belongs in my lap.

The drastic opposite between us is glaringly obvious. It’s hot as fuck out and I’m in black combats, boots, and a white shirt, and she’s wearing a scrap of fabric and glowing from tanning on a lounger all day.

She pulls back, her gaze on mine. The way she’s looking into my eyes momentarily stalls me. I’ve been feeling like I’m trapped within a dream since the moment I knew I could push my boundaries with her—the tent, since she fell asleep in my arms in a non-sisterly way and made my heart pound, when she touched my dick and made it hard, when she kissed me back for the first time and had my chest tightening at my luck. The first damn smile that gave me butterflies at the age of seventeen—when the attraction escalated into fucking heaven.

I always had a thing for Olivia. Since I was a kid. I had no idea it could get stronger. So much so, I think I’m a health risk to myself and everyone around us, because I would kill for this girl without thinking twice.

Olivia’s smile grows. “If you’re not mad, then you’re jealous.”

My eyes narrow, and a fire lights and spreads like wildfire within me as she hums, grinning against my lips like she’s genuinely happy.

“I like it when you’re jealous.”

I squeeze her hips, making her giggle some more.

Then she tilts her head. “Keep Mason away from Abbi.”

I give her a glare that silently tells her to keep Abigail away from Mason.

“We should go before someone sees us.”

I shake my head. Not yet. This is the highlight of my day so far—I’m not done with having her attention yet.

Her eyes light up when my fingers play with the string of her bikini, which is resting on her hip, and I tug to loosen it. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth as I do the same to the other side. The scrap drops to the ground beneath us with a slap of wet material.

“Take yours off too,” she orders, pulling at the waistband of my combats.

I let her unfasten the buttons of my pants and slide her hand under my waistband to feel how hard I am. She palms my dick, and the gentle touch sends shocks straight to my balls, drawing a muted groan into my throat.

“Have you ever been touched, Malachi?”

She knows the answer. But the way her pupils expand when I shake my head has me wanting to worship her until the day I die.

Olivia has groped me through my clothes, touched me, but she’s never gotten me off using her hand or stroking my cock until I found my high. So when her fingers wrap around the thickness of it, I gulp nervously, wanting to touch her but leaving my hands on her hips. My fingertips dig into her skin as she goes from base to tip, twisting her wrist and back down.

“This can be another lesson,” she says. “A lesson on receiving.”

She can call it whatever she likes. I blink far too much, watching her hand move up and down on my dick while warm euphoria wraps around my spine, making my legs and stomach tense.

Using her free hand, she snatches my throat, forcing me to look at her. “Touch me while I’m doing this to you.”

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

I gulp against her palm, my pulse hammering, as my fingers leave her hip, shakily sliding between her legs to feel the heat of her pussy.

She must get off on the way she’s making my eyes roll because she’s soaked. I push two fingers in at the same time she rocks her hips, taking me to the knuckles.

Humming a soft moan, her eyelids fall shut, and I’m mesmerized with how beautiful she is while she rides my fingers at the same time she jerks me off. I thicken from her touch, and I flinch as the pad of her thumb swipes over the bead of precum at my swollen head.

I mouth a “fuck” and pull the cup of her bikini down under her breast and suck a nipple into my mouth, causing her to tighten around my fingers and let out a whimper.

So warm and tight and fucking mine.

“You don’t need any more lessons on touching,” she breathes. “I guess I’m just selfish and greedy for my big brother’s fingers.”

My cock twitches, dying to dip into her pussy. To have her mouth. Her ass. Fucking anything. The way she talks only has me shoving my fingers even deeper, grabbing on to her skin for dear life while she rocks into my touch.

The sounds she makes when I add another finger has me snapping, my balls going firm, and I have to sink my teeth into her nipple from how intense the powerful orgasm hits me.

Lashes of my cum coat her thighs as I suck hard, and her free hand goes to my hair, tugging while I curl my fingers deep inside and stroke a spot that has her tensing all over as her high smacks into her like a tidal wave.

We ride it out together. Her dragging my mouth back to hers and me swallowing the loud cries until we’re both panting the same air and holding on to each other.

After a few minutes of catching our breaths, she lifts her head from my shoulder, bites her lip nervously, then smiles.

Olivia climbs off my lap, looking down at the mess I’ve made of her skin—her cheeks and chest are flushed a deep red, her pupils dilating even more as I slip off my white shirt and clean my cum from her thighs.

In a daze, her fingers trace up and down my arms until I’m sure I’ve gotten rid of the proof the Vize siblings have been fucking around.

“The filter wasn’t broken,” she admits before snatching up her bikini bottoms and fastening them back onto her body. “It was only an excuse to get you alone.”

I already knew that. She’s not very creative, since it takes less than a minute to fix the damn filters and we’ve been around here for over ten.

Like nerves are sinking in, she fidgets then kisses my cheek and runs back to the party, leaving me feeling like I’m the luckiest guy in the world with a stupid smirk on my mouth.

It’s when I stand, checking if I’m able to put my shirt back on, that Mason walks around the corner, calling out my name with a tone filled with concern.

He pauses.

Stares at me.

Looks back at the party, then to me again.

“No. Fuck no. Tell me you weren’t doing what I think you were doing.”

My nostrils flare as I run my hand through my hair. Then don’t ask.

Mason’s lips part to say something else, then he flattens them and stares at me.

“That’s fucked up, Vizey.”

Rolling my jaw, I shake my head in annoyance. Tell a soul and I’ll kill you.

It makes so much sense, he signs. So much fucking sense.

I flip him off, and he laughs like he’s been told the best joke ever.

Well I pissed off your sister-turned-girlfriend’s friend and I think she might throw a drink in my face or hit me with a glass bottle, so can we go?

We both grab one last beer and head out, and Mason promises to keep my secret, as long as I figure out a way to get him and Abigail in the same room again.

The blackmailing dickhead.