Page 111 of Sinful Lies

She spread them wide, inviting me in.

“Judging by how you get off on fucking with me,” I muttered, “I’d say you’ve been busy planning ways to poison me.”

Her breath caught as I grazed my hand over the exposed skin of her thigh. She braced herself with her arms behind her, silent—her eyes locked on my hand as it slid higher, teasing, until it disappeared beneath the edge of her dress.

I felt the lace of her underwear.

A dark smile spread across my lips. She was already fucking soaked.

I pushed aside the fabric, leaning in closer as my lips brushed her neck, kissing and sucking at her skin.

Her scent hit me—dark oud, with a hint of caramel. It was fucking intoxicating.

“And with how fucking wet you are right now, Miss Whitenhouse,” I growled, letting my finger glide through her folds, watching her drop her head back, her moans thick with desperation. “I’m sure you’ve been imagining me buried deep inside you.”

I slid a finger inside her, feeling her pussy clamp down, tight and eager.

“Am I wrong?” I whispered.

I pushed my finger deeper, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

Then I added another, fucking her hard and fast, her slick coating my hand as I bit down on the curve of her neck.

My free hand tangled in her hair, gripping tight as I yanked her head back. She gasped, her body arching into the pull.

When she tried grinding against my hand, desperate for more, I tightened my grip, jerking her head back harder.

“Don’t fucking move,” I said, my fingers working faster, deeper.

Her pussy clenched around me, impossibly tight, her body trembling as she neared the edge.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” I muttered, my lips brushing her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed out, breathless and needy.

I let out a low, dark chuckle. “That’s my girl.”

Leaning in, I kissed her hard, and she responded with equal hunger, her hands flying to my face, her tongue plunging into mine. She kissed me like she needed me more than air.

Her body went rigid, a broken cry tearing from her as she came, nails sinking into my scalp, yanking at my hair like she wanted to tear it out. She bit down on my lip, her teeth digging in, pulling a growl from deep in my chest that rumbled against her mouth.

I didn’t stop—my fingers still fucking her, slick and tight, until her body stopped shaking.

“Fuck,” I muttered against her lips, grabbing her jaw to hold her in place as I pulled my fingers free, dripping with her. I brushed them over her lips. “Suck.”

Her mouth parted eagerly, her tongue flicking out to lick them clean, eyes never leaving mine, as if daring me to look away.

I pushed my fingers in deeper, and she sucked them with a desperate intensity, her lips pulling tight, her cheeks hollowing out.

“Guess I won, Miss Whitenhouse.”

Honestly, it felt too damn easy.

I couldn’t help but think she’d picked those three just to make sure I’d fuck her.

A wicked smirk curled at the corners of my lips.

My finger slid out of her mouth, and before I could react, she shoved me back, stood up, and kissed me—a quick, teasing peck on my lips.

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