Page 50 of Devious Delusions

She gasps and splutters as she lies to herself, “No, it’s not real.”

Bullshit. Her legs open and she tilts her hips forward, wanting me, needing me.

My voice is filled with gravel, deeper and raspier with the mask distorting it. “You were a very bad girl and you wanted them both.” I slap my fingers directly over her dripping cunt as I repeat, “A very bad girl.” Another slap. “So fucking greedy.” She moans and I slap again, harder this time.

Every wrong thing she has done was confessed to me and the latex stops me feeling just how soaked she is as I slip my middle finger between her lips.

“You’re never satisfied with one of anything, koukla mou.”

Delilah shakes her head and widens her thighs as she rolls her hips to get my finger on her needy clit. Her voice trembles as she says, “It’s not true.”

It forces me to pull out her other secrets and a groan deepens my voice further as I push my middle finger inside of her.

“The first time you put your pretty little fingers in your delicious cunt, you were scared.”

She shakes her head.

“You were scared,” I repeat, my tone hardening, “of getting caught.”

Her hips roll and she cuts off her own air to stop from moaning. I mimic the movements she once showed me as I slowly pull my finger out and hesitantly trace every delectable inch of her soaked slit.

But she shakes her head and lies to herself again. “My mind already knows those things. It’s not real.”

I’m getting sick of hearing that bullshit over and over and fucking over again. It forces me to continue giving her details as I softly trail the fingers of my free hand over her stomach.

“Your sister was sleeping in the same room at your grandparents’ house?—”

“Shut. Up,” she grits, squirming under my touch.

I keep moving up her body with my free hand as I brush her clit with the tip of my finger.

“And you put your hand over your mouth.”

“No.”

I copy the first time she touched herself and push my hand up through the neck of her t-shirt to cover her lies. Her cheeks dent from the force of my fingers but she doesn’t try to bite me. She knows now and we can continue without her need to be a liar.

Flattening my hand between her legs, I continue and purposefully slow each word.

“Then you did this”—I increase the pressure and press the heel of my palm to her clit—“and you were so scared you were going to get caught, but you couldn’t stop.”

She shakes her head and pushes her hips down as a soft, delicate moan vibrates into my palm.

“It felt so good, so exciting and new, to finally touch yourself. But it wasn’t enough. You need more, don’t you, koukla mou?”

The change in tense isn’t accidental, we both know she fucking needs me. She needs to be fucked, to be filled, and to be stretched to the point that she breaks. Until she’s nothing but a soaking wet, drooling mess.

There’s no movement as I slowly push my two middle fingers up and her legs shake as she resists the urge to ride my hand.

“So, you put one pretty little finger inside and felt how warm and comforting you can be.”

Her eyes close.

“It felt so good to have something inside of you, and that excitement of knowing you could get caught at any moment was too much,” I say. My voice is deeper, breathing ragged as her cunt takes a third finger. “A moan slipped out.”

She does the same now and I push my palm into her mouth.

“But you wanted to scream.”

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