Page 106 of Liar
I swear I feel his smile spreading against me.
He plunders me ruthlessly, aggressively, like he’s marking every inch of my tightness with his tongue. All I see is his dark head, but judging by my very physical response, my juices are all over his mouth and face. I groan at the thought as much as the blissful tension building inside me.
I arch my hips when he circles a moist thumb across my clitoris. It takes seconds before the combination of mouth, tongue, and finger send me flying over the edge. It’s a feeling unlike anything else and goes on and on until I can’t bear it anymore and I push his head away. Made all the more special because it’s his gift to me.
He sits back.
I stare down at him in wonder, the evidence of his gift to me all over his mouth.
I’m lifted like a ragdoll and laid down on the bed. For a heartbeat, he stares down at me before stretching out next to me.
I turn on my side toward him. “It’ll be difficult to consummate this marriage with you still in your suit.”
His silence makes me nervous because it always leads to heartache. I’m naked in body and soul, aren’t I?
Something in the air shifts, subtly, yet noticeable to my overly-sensitive mind.
He takes a breast into the palm of his hand. “Jesus, these breasts are going to be the death of me.” His fingers scissor a nipple, and a groan escapes my lips. My response surprises me but pleases him. “You like that.” Another tweak, and I’m pushing myself further into his hand.
“More?”
“Yes.”
“Ask me to suck your tit.”
My eyes flash wide, though I shouldn’t be surprised by his dirty mouth. Filthy mouth, controlling nature.
“Suck my tit while you touch me.”
He flashes me a smile, a mix between a warning and a promise. Then, he’s on me, rolling me onto my back and latching onto me with his mouth. The suction is intense and sends shock waves through me. I never imagined this could feel so good. His attention shifts to my left breast as he lightly runs his teeth across my nipple. I wonder if he likes sex rough but is holding back with me.
His hand slides down my body until his fingertips graze my clitoris. His slow, controlled spirals cause my body to shake. But the finger curling into me is what elicits a groan.
“Your greedy pussy is soaked.”
“Yes.” I bite my lip, unfamiliar with sex talk and how to respond.
“Good. It’ll be easier for you when I fuck you.”
I gasp.
“Too fucking innocent.” His finger goes deeper then thrusts in and out, in and out. “Too goddamn tight.”
Lust sweeps over me, intense and intoxicating. A flash of lust sweeps over me, and cheers on my success. This is happening.
His lips resume their assault on my breast as he fingers me.
I run fingers through his hair, over his cheeks, down his back. I’ve fantasized about him touching me for months, never dreaming he’d be this patient or so invested in helping me discover what lovemaking—fucking—is all about.
“You like my finger fucking you,” his warm breath caresses my skin. It’s a statement, not a question.
“I like you fucking me.”
“Fatti penetrare,” he murmurs. “I’m going to add a second finger.”
“Hurry. Because I’m not going to last long.”
“Neither am I, if this is how receptive you are.”
