Page 37 of Conflicted Lies

He smirks, grabbing my ass and lifting me up so I have to wrap my legs around his waist for support. He slams me onto the table, piles of papers scattered and drifting to the floor, and I move my leg so my stiletto is at his throat. His smile grows. “It’d be easy, wouldn’t it?” he asks. He glances at a spot above my shoulder, and that’s where I notice the gun in the holster placed on the table once again as if he’s testing me or inviting me to take it.

I do, and his hand slides up my body to rest on my hand, which now has the gun. My stiletto is still at his throat, pressing in firmer as he leans over me. And then I feel him at my entrance, rubbing through my juices. Oh, fuck me. This man…

He edges closer, the tip nudging in and out as my hips automatically loosen to let him in deeper, but he doesn’t move to do so. Instead, his hand wraps around the gun. My finger rests on the trigger, and a heated look passes between us.

“You want this cock, Shortcake?”

“You want to remain alive, asshole?”

“Why do I have a feeling you’d like fucking me if I’m dead?”

A very dangerous thing unfurls inside me. I don’t want to fuck a dead person, but his innate understanding of this darkness within me calls to it and draws it out.

He takes the gun and points it at his head with a crazed smile.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, his voice like gravel.

“More than you know,” I seethe.

“Oh, I know, Shortcake. I know,” he says as he replaces his cock at my entrance with the barrel of the gun. I try to squeeze my thighs together, and a moment of dread runs through me. But a dark curiosity quickly overshadows it.

“What are you?—?”

The cool muzzle of the barrel slides into my pussy, and the sense of danger riles something deranged within me. “You like that, don’t you?” he questions.

“Yes,” I breathe, shocked, broken, crazed.Is this really me? Is this a part of me that I’ve tried so hard to keep at bay?He thrusts the gun farther into me, and I take a sharp breath, not breaking eye contact as blood drips from his throat from where my heel has cut him.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers as his gaze skitters over me. “So fucking wild, waiting to be set free.”

“I didn’t ask for poetry. Fuck me,” I demand, unsettled by the fact that he sees me. All of me. This part of me I’ve tried to bury and conceal that he coaxes out with such ease.

His pumping of the gun continues as I roll back on my elbows, taking my pleasure. My hips rock back and forth, needy, and when I glance down, I see he’s fisting his own cock, watching me like a crazy man.

He removes the gun, and I immediately feel its loss. “It was a trick, wasn’t it?”

“What was?” he asks.

“The gun was a test.”

“Was it?” He arches an eyebrow as he aims across the room and pulls the trigger.Bang!The light beside his bed explodes.

A jolt of adrenaline passes through me as I realize I could’ve shot him in the head. He could’ve shot me in the pussy. So many things could’ve gone wrong, and yet a wild, carnal feeling explodes within me and has me reaching for his neck and crushing his lips to mine.

We’re hungry for each other, biting, clawing, sucking, viciously trying to take everything we can from one another. He picks me up again, my legs wrapping around his waist as I try my hardest to impale myself on his cock. Fuck me, this asshole is my wildest fantasy, and I didn’t even fucking know it.

I’m led by something entirely animalistic that I’ve never tapped into before. His mouth leaves mine only momentarily as he bites along my neck. I hiss as he pinches my skin between my teeth, devouring me as he walks us over to his bed.

I get impatient, and as he places another bite on my neck, I nip at his cheek.

He hisses, grabbing my ass and squeezing hard. Braxton’s gaze is lethal as he says, “This fucking mouth of yours is dangerous.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, avoiding the broken porcelain on the floor. “Be a good girl and grab a condom from the top drawer and then impale yourself on my cock. Show me how needy you are.”

When he releases my jaw, I’m almost salivating, my body alive and burning in pain, but I want more.Needmore. I lean over to the top drawer, and he slaps my ass. Hard. I hiss, keeping the scream in, refusing to let him break me, even though I really fucking want him to.

I hastily tear open the condom and then slide it over his cock, trying not to show it’s the first time I’ve put one on a guy; they usually do this part. But I so desperately need him inside of me. I need to feel his size destroying me from the inside, showing what damage he can cruelly deliver.

I put a knee on either side of him, straddling his hips, but I don’t sit down. Instead, we lock eyes, and then he leans in and kisses me, stealing my words and everything else he can take. It’s slower than before, the high at a lethal edge, and it’s as if he’s trying to coax it back ever so slightly. To make it feel more human.

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