Page 164 of Sinful Lies

With that, she placed her hands firmly on my knees.

Then—fuck.

She leaned forward, her pussy practically dangling in my face.

I didn’t need a second invitation.

I dove in, my tongue lapping up her sweet juices, savoring every drop.

So fucking delicious.

I sucked on her clit, feeling her soft body respond beneath my mouth while her nails dug into my skin. Then I bit it, hard.

“Ouch!” she gasped.

“Get closer,” I growled, sinking my teeth into her ass cheek.

She shifted backward without a word, her legs trembling as I buried myself between her thighs.

Her body locked up, thighs trembling violently as my tongue thrust deeper, drawing out a strangled cry. She bucked against me, grinding harder. Her taste was addictive, bitter and sweet, dripping down my face as I fucked her with my tongue.

She shattered—hips jolting, gasps turning ragged, her nails clawing my knees as she gave in completely.

For the first time in years, the ghosts in my mind didn’t get through.

She had burned them out, erased them with the way she fell apart.

No darkness.

No memories.

Just her.

“God,” she muttered, barely able to breathe as she slumped backwards on my lap.

A second passed before she turned her head, looking at me with a wicked smile.

“I hope you’ll remember that forever,” she rasped. “Every second of it.”

I couldn’t even respond, still choking on the fact that she’d managed to make me forget.

Actually forget.

She stood, unhooking the cuffs. My wrists burned as she rubbed them. Then, without hesitation, she climbed back onto me, her legs locking me in place, her mouth crashing down on mine.

I fisted her hair, yanking her head back. “I should punish you for this. Or maybe just fuck you until you can’t even stand.”

Her grin widened. “Do both.”

I didn’t waste another second.

Grabbing her ass, I stood, carrying her like a trophy, her legs locking tight around my waist. Her nails scored down my back, her teeth grazing my jaw as she whispered sinful promises that seared straight to my core.

I threw her onto the bed and fucked her until she passed out, soft snores breaking the silence. Her body, flushed and tangled with mine, felt like it had always belonged there—as if the universe had been rearranged just for this.

For the first time in years, the ghosts didn’t claw at my mind. They didn’t even dare show their faces. She hadn’t just quieted them; she’d annihilated them, erased their existence, left only herself in their wake.

Jade Whitenhouse wasn’t my salvation; she was my damnation. My curse. And somehow, that made her perfect.

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