Page 22 of Tattletale

“Get on your knees, baby, please,” he groans.

While I sink to the floor, he pushes off his briefs. His long, thick cock springs free. I shut my eyes and open my mouth wide. But he doesn’t rest the glistening tip of his cock on my tongue like I expect him to. Lance hooks his finger under my chin.

“Open your beautiful eyes.” Then he slides his dick into my cleavage. “These fucking tits…drove me crazy…years, baby. I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

He bridges his hips and thrusts again. I grab my tits, pushing them together so he feels the pressure of my chest, squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, Cricket,” he moans.

We stay like that for a while. Me smiling while he fucks my breasts, looking like a man who finally found nirvana. When my knees start to ache, I ask, “Are you close?”

He laughs. “You’re going to learn a lot about my endurance tonight.” He lifts me like a little rag doll and tosses me onto the bed. Fisting his cock, he climbs on top of me. “I don’t have a condom.”

“That’s fine. What would we need a condom for? I want you bare and feeling how wet I am for you.”

His face pinches in anguish. “That might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. But I better be the only man you say that to moving forward.”

I bat my eyelashes and flash him a wicked, teasing smile. “Absolutely. I’ll make all the other guys wear a condom moving forward.Promise.”

He scowls. “Not funny.”

Laughing, I flip over and pop my hips in the air, preparing to take his length from behind.

“What are you doing?” Lance asks.

I stare at him over my shoulder. “Well, if you don’t know, I’m going to go ahead and say you don’t have as much experience as you claim to. Ever heard of doggy style?”

“Doggy style is for my hookups.” He smacks my ass with both hands. “You mean so much more to me than that. Turn over.”

I shake my head and bury my head in the pillow. “No, like this.” I close my eyes.

“I want to see your face. I want to see your eyes roll back into your head when you come all over my cock.” He grabs my hips and tries to flip me over, but I plant my knees, refusing to budge. “Cricket…what is going on?”

After rolling over, I scoot up the bed, away from him. Protectively, I tuck my knees to my chest. “It’s the only way I fuck.”

Eyes closed. From behind. When I can’t see, I can control my reality.

“Why?” Lance folds his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly concerned.

“It’s just what I like.”

He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Nope. Not good enough. You always have a reason for everything. Tell me. Don’t you trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

I don’t want to. I don’t want to go back to the origin of why I am the way I am. Why I can’t look at a man’s face when we’re fucking. Why every single time I close my eyes, I see ghosts. No matter how many evil men I put into the ground, I’m still drunk with fury, angry about what was taken from me.

How do I explain that there’s a hole in my heart that’ll never be filled? I’m bleeding out so slowly; it’s living torture. I can’t tell Lance that selfishly, I wish with every fiber of my being that Saoirse and I had switched places, and I could be dead and inpeace with my family, instead of living every day alone in a lost legacy.

“It’s not exactly pillow talk.” I glance at his erection. “Quite a mood killer.”

“Talk, Cricket. Don’t mind me.” He follows my eyes. “I can wait.” Lance sits on his backside, hiking up his knees, hiding his hard cock from my view.

I exhale. “You know how Vesper found me.”

He nods. “Trapped in that room, left to die as a prisoner after the mafia attacked and killed your family.”

I wet my suddenly dry lips, staring intently at the white comforter. “Know how I survived?”

“Vesper said you were starving and delirious when she and Linc found you.”

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