“I didn't ask for career advice from someone who faked his entire existence to me. Who slept with me under false pretenses. Who lied to me every single minute of our time together," she raged back.
"And you enjoyed every second of it, didn't you? You begged for it."
"And so did you. Or was all of that a lie too?"
"What do you think, mistress?" he growled.
Her emotions could only be blamed for what happened next. She punched him in the chest. "Shut up, boy."
Sean's face froze. "What did you say?"
Lillian slapped his face, her muscles trembling. "I didn't give you permission to speak. Get on your knees."
He immediately dropped to the floor.
"Strip," she commanded, the air thickening between them.
His eyes, finally visible in their full emerald glory, held hers.
He obeyed.
Every inch of skin he revealed peeled back one more layer. He was baring himself to her, giving her what she'd been denied. She could feel her pupils dilate as if they too were devouring the sight before them.
She held up a hand when he stood up to remove his pants and underwear. What her eyes saw made her feverish with lust, but anger was right behind it. Finally, she understood the lengths he'd gone to to conceal any identifying characteristics. The green paint. The fishnet shirt and tights.
Without speaking, she went into her room and grabbed the riding crop.
As expected, he was still waiting in silence in her living room.
She stood behind him with the riding crop and traced it up his spine. "You have a lot of freckles."
He remained silent.
"You may speak when I address you." She hit his shoulder blade for emphasis.
"Yes, ma'am."
"How did I not see these the first time?" she asked, angry but wondering. His body was the same and different. The freckles and the red hair sprouting from his arms, legs, and crotch—still bearing evidence of having been shaved.
"It was dark, and you were drunk."
She brought the crop down on the firm globes of his derriere. "You saw to that too, didn't you? You hardly drank around me."
The man dared hold his tongue.
Stepping around him, she hit his hip near his cock, which was standing upright under its own power. "Was it fun to ply me with drinks? TELL ME!"
Again, his eyes met hers. "It was the only way to keep me from giving in."
"I don't believe you." She hit him three times near the knees. "Don't lie to me anymore.
"I'm not."
The crop whistled through the air, hitting the fronts of both of his thighs, red lashes left in its wake. "Tell me the truth!"
"I wanted you so badly the first night, even though I was never supposed to see you again. Those tequila shots you ordered me to take were hell. And then every hour, every day, I saw you at the hospital, unable to tell you anything."
"But you lied to me over and over again." She aimed at his chest this time, lashing an 'x' right over his lying heart. “Back on your knees.”
