Page 36 of Conflicted Lies

He remains there, his cock giving me a standing ovation, as I trail my other hand over my stomach, pretending I’m rubbing his cum into my skin. The blue of his eyes darkens, and I see the moment the last of his control snaps.

He eliminates the distance between us, his arms wrapping around my waist possessively, feeling my curves until both hands grab my ass and he lifts me. He takes my breath away as he slams me against the board affixed to the wall, a few pins digging into my back. Photos and pins fall around us, pieces of string dangling from the board here and there as he lifts me higher, effortlessly hooking my legs around his shoulders.

“What are you—” And then his mouth is on me. Oh, fuck me. His tongue devours my pussy, kissing and nipping hungrily as if he’s waited for this moment just as much as I have.

I have nothing to grab on to apart from his hair, and my head is almost touching the ceiling. I press one hand against the ceiling, trying to offer me some kind of support as he eats me out like a starved man. His tongue slides through my folds, and he tastes me like I’m his favorite dessert.

Fuck me, his tongue.It works fucking magic. I tighten my grip on his hair, pushing him deeper between my thighs. My legs squeeze his head and pull at his curls as he keeps me pinned to the wall.

Oh fuck. I’m stunned when my legs begin to shake, the buildup rising quickly. Am I seriously going to come this soon?

Surely, he’s not that good?

I want to fight it, not at all wanting to give in to his ego, but the high overrides logic. My legs tremble from the onslaught of the orgasm that’s hitting me. “Fuck!” I scream, shocked by how hard and fast it rips from me.

Shit, maybe I should’ve fucked someone sooner.

I don’t want to give him credit—it might make his ego inflate too big—but hell, he just made me come in a matter of minutes with his tongue alone.

That is some gift.

I grab under his chin and use force to pull him away from my pussy. An arrogant smirk graces his shiny lips as I tighten my grip on his throat, thinking about how good it might feel to choke him. So I do exactly that, and it only widens his smile as he suddenly drops me from his shoulders. Pins fall everywhere as my back drags over them. He catches me so I don’t roll an ankle in my heels and wraps his own hand around my throat, restricting my airflow.

“We can play like this, Shortcake, but don’t cry when I scare you.”

“Why don’t you actually do something to try and scare me,” I manage to get out around the pressure on my throat.

His smile is devious as he releases me and licks his lips. “Now, get on your knees. Surely, you’ve learned something since I last saw you. Did you learn how to bite?”

“How did you know making men bleed was my favorite game?” I reply as I drop to my knees. I open my mouth, and he’s already there, shoving his cock between my lips. I gag at its assault, wanting to shove back with just as much force. This might be a power imbalance, but even if I’m the one sucking him off, I’ll fucking show him what kind of woman he’s fucking with.

I bite down. Hard.

“Fuck!” he yells, then slowly drags his cock out of my mouth, gritting his teeth as a vein jumps in his neck.

“Are you scared?” I ask, pouting my lips.

His devilish smirk unravels. “We’re just getting started, Shortcake. That can’t be all you’ve learned.”

Heat radiates in my core as I take him into the back of my throat again. Relaxing the muscles to take as much of him in as possible. My glasses keep hitting his lower abdomen as I swallow him, bite him, and drag curses from him that unfurl something dark and needy inside me.

I grab his balls and tug, and he jerks in my mouth, hissing at the pain but threading his fingers through my hair as he encourages me. I despise Braxton and everything he stands for. A do-gooder. An arrogant asshole. A temptation that I want to physically destroy. I tug hard again. I want to break him as much as he wants to break me.

He pulls out of my mouth and lowers himself to my level. “You’re going to crawl to me, do you understand? Like a good girl.”

He releases the tight grip on my hair, and I fall forward onto my hands and knees. Braxton steps back, leaning against the dining table.

“And what do I get for it?” I ask.

“Punishment.”

My body is crawling to him of its own accord, drawn to the promise of the type of sex I know only he can give me.

When I reach his feet, he offers me his hand. I take it and slide my body up his.

“You’re too fucking beautiful,” he seethes.

“And you’re too sure of yourself,” I bite back. “You’re a fucking problem.”

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