Kendall Ryan - Filthy Beautiful Forever

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by Kendall Ryan Books 2014

First published in Great Britain by Harper 2015

Copyright © Kendall Ryan 2015

Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2015

Cover photographs © Gallerystock

Kendall Ryan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008133924

Ebook Edition © February 2015 ISBN: 9780008133917

Version 2015-01-30

‘Provocative and filthy…I. Love. This. Book.’ – Roxy Sloane, #1 bestselling erotica author

‘Every Kendall Ryan book should come with a fan and some batteries because they are that hot.’ – Lauren Blakely, New York Times & USA Today bestselling author

‘Compelling characters in a wicked hot story. Kendall Ryan is a goddess.’ – Lexi Ryan, New York Times & USA Today bestselling author

‘Intense, consuming, and ridiculously sexy…Kendall Ryan has outdone herself yet again.’ – Emma Hart, New York Times bestselling author

‘Sinfully enticing, sexually charged and lust driven! Filthy Beautiful Lies is Kendall Ryan at her devastatingly best.’ – Rachel Brookes, author of the bestselling Breathe series

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Filthy Beautiful Lies

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

KR Page When I Break

KR Page Lies

KR Page Love

KR Page Lust

About the Author

Tell Me Your Favorite Part!

Connect With Kendall Ryan:

Also by Kendall Ryan

W6 Book Cafe

About the Publisher

Collins

I can’t seem to ejaculate lately.

It isn’t from lack of effort on my part. Hell, no. I’m no quitter, but despite pumping into my very hot supermodel girlfriend for the last hour, trying every position you can imagine, and even inventing a few of my own, I am nowhere near coming.

Fuck .

Sweat drips from my abs and chest onto hers, and I murmur an apology and thrust harder, slamming into her body again and again as I try to get there. She’s already come four times and during her last two orgasms she asked me if I was close. Yes, I lied.

Giving a final huff, she pushes me off her. ‘What the hell, Collins?’ She moves from the bed, tossing a pillow at my face, as she grabs her silk robe.

I sit back on my heels; naked as the day I was born, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. Tatianna is tall and thin with long silky hair, and she’s front and center in the mental spank banks of men worldwide. This has nothing to do with her, or shit, maybe it does, I don’t know.

‘Listen, babe, I’m just tired, okay?’ I’d run six miles that morning and then done a brutal kickboxing workout with my youngest brother, Pace. And hell, maybe some of the conversation we’d had while throwing jabs and uppercuts is still spinning in my head. When he’d inquired about my relationship with Tatianna, I’d admitted to him that I was pretty sure she only regarded me as her personal bank account, and she was merely a warm body to lose myself in. Only that isn’t working so well for me lately either.

I watch from the bed as Tatianna dresses herself, choosing designer garments from the massive walk-in closet I had built for her. She tosses stray clothes to the floor before finally settling on a black shift dress and matching heels. ‘I’m going out,’ she says in my direction.

I know she’s pissed at me, but shouldn’t we talk about this? Isn’t that what couples do?

I merely nod.

I’m sure she’s going out shopping, her typical Saturday afternoon activity.

After she’s gone, I shower and dress, then sit alone in the library enjoying a one-hundred year old scotch. I consider calling my brothers, but they’re probably each busy with their families. Leaning back in the leather armchair, I close my eyes.

I exercise control over all things in my life—from my company, to my relationships, to the way I handle my business—only my cock hasn’t gotten the memo. The selfish prick.

I could make an appointment for a physical—but I’m sure my doctor would tell me the problem is with my head, not my dick. I can come just fine with my own hand—and I don’t want to hear why he thinks that is. Not something I care to examine, thanks, Doc.

As the oldest brother in a family without a mother, and a father who worked too much, a hell of a lot fell on my shoulders. I ran a tight ship and made sure my brothers kept in line. And now, as the CEO of a company, it’s no different. I rarely have time for frivolous things, like fun. Maybe now I’m paying the price. I’ve forgotten how to fucking ejaculate. Christ .

I’m sitting alone, enjoying a drink while the sun sinks low in the sky, when the doorbell chimes. No one rings the bell. My brothers would let themselves in, and the housekeepers would enter through the garage. I push up from the chair and head toward the foyer, wondering who the hell is at my front door.

I open the door to find a young woman standing on my front porch. There’s something alluring and vaguely familiar about her wide set mossy-colored eyes fringed in dark lashes. My dick perks up in interest. Really, now? To this brown haired girl who looks equal parts terrified and hopeful?

We each stand there, eyes roaming over the other. Did her car break down? It seems unlikely that she hiked the mile up my private driveway. I’m about to offer her my cell phone when she speaks for the first time.

‘Collins?’ She squints at me, like she isn’t just looking at me, but looking into me, as strange as that sounds. Her voice has a familiar quality to it. Soft, yet gravelly. My memory scrambles through a scotch-induced haze to place her.

‘Gremlin? Is that you?’ I find that I’m the one squinting now, trying to understand how the girl I used to know by that nickname has transformed into this beautiful creature before me.