Page 116 of Never Tell Lies

“Yours truly.” He gave my thigh a squeeze and I couldn’t help but smile despite knowing what he was up to. Alfie Tell, Master Manipulator. The only man who can lie to me and I still end up smiling.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?”

Alfie sighed. “Are you going to push this?”

I pretended to think about it for a minute before shaking my head. Apparently his scar was a big secret too. I’d file it away with Charles, his parents, his business, and the Never Tell Club. So, basically, his whole life.

“Not right now, no.”

“Good, because I can think of much better things to do.” His free hand roamed over my hip before grabbing a handful of my backside and pulling me to him. His erection pressed up against my mound, hard and ready. The man was tireless.

“Again?”

“Again.” He rolled until he lay between my legs, and before I could speak his mouth claimed mine once more. I moaned my approval at the invasion of his tongue, at the way he sucked and nipped my lower lip, at the groans emanating from him as hemade a feast of my mouth. I loved the way Alfie fucked me, but honestly, I loved the way he kissed me even more. His kisses could mean so many things and none of them had ever failed to reduce me to a gibbering wreck.

His fingers found my entrance and he sunk two and then three in with ease. He swirled them, easing me open further even though I’d taken him only minutes before. There was no need for this and I wondered if he just enjoyed the act of doing it, of knowing how quickly my body readied itself for him, of feeling the copious wetness and knowing it was all his fault. I knew how that felt. His erection, after all, was my fault, and I took great pleasure in knowing that.

I gasped for air as he finally released my mouth, and as his lips moved to my neck I let out a loud groan, my sensitive flesh rippling over his expert fingers.

“Fuck, Alfie!” I cried out as I began to peak.

“That’s it, baby.” He reared up, resting on one forearm as his other hand continued to work me. He was smiling at me, an arrogant grin. “Say my name,” he commanded. I held his gaze, my breathing heavy and laboured.

“Alfie,” I panted and his grin grew.

“Again.”

“Alfie.” My hand wrapped tight around his biceps as he worked me. I writhed under him and my mind writhed too as he reduced me to a skin suit of toe-curling pleasure.

“Again.”

“Alfie!” I cried out as I began to implode.

“That’s it, Lola. Scream my fucking name.”

His name became a mantra in my mouth, an epithet, a prayer for salvation as my body racked with a sanity-stealing orgasm, one of many that he dealt out like lollipops. He wrapped his arms around me, hushing me softly, whispering sinful somethings in my ear.

“I’m going to do that to you all over the planet, baby; Paris, Italy, Berlin…everywhere.” His words were a careful mix of deadly romance. The danger of them sent a ripple up my spine. It set off an alarm in my brain too, and as the tide of my orgasm began to recede, the events of yesterday came crashing in on thunderstruck waves.

He thought I was leaving with him.

Oh shit.

“Alfie…”

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” He nuzzled my neck and I felt him move into position, his erection hard and ready. I wriggled and pushed on his chest, all the while trying desperately to drag back coherent thought and speech from where he’d just blasted it into outer space.

“No, I…can we talk?”

He reared up on his forearms, confused and slightly distant, like his mind wasn’t entirely here. It wasn’t really. During sex, Alfie’s mind was definitely in a whole different zone altogether.

“Talk? Right now?”

“Yeah, I just…were you serious about that? About wanting me to go with you?” I asked.

His brow creased in exasperation. “Yes, I was serious. Can I fuck you now?”

“Yes. No!” I forced his mouth away from my breast where he was trying to tease a delicate nipple. “We need to talk about this, have an actual, real conversation.”

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