Page 92 of The Lies We Tell
When I’m standing in my underwear, he drags his gaze down my body and back up again. “You know, I spent a fair chunk of the drive trying not to think about how I was going to fuck you when we got here.”
“And what conclusion did you come up with?” I unfasten my bra, guide the straps down my arms, and let it fall to the floor.
His eyes track me as I remove my underwear. As I step out of them, I widen my stance a little and let my fingers skate between my legs. It feels good. Soothing. Gently arousing.
“Fuck, Bri. Slide two fingers inside for me.” His voice is rough.
“If you tell me how you’re going to take me.”
“Somewhere by Hershey, I figured I was going to fuck you standing up against the door.” His voice is low as he unzips his jeans and pushes them down his hips a few inches. “Somewhere outside of Pittsburgh, while you slept, I decided I was going to make love to you, slow and deep. Missionary, with your legs up around my back.” He dips his hands into his boxer briefs and palms himself. He sucks in a breath. “Cleveland, I was so tired, thought you’d have to do all the work and ride me. Then, in Toledo, I remembered how you sucked me down the back of your throat. Now, slide those two fingers into your pussy, pull them out, and suck on them.”
It’s dirty, the way he’s talking to me. And I love it. I do as he asks, focusing on my own pleasure as I dip two fingers into my warmth. I slide them back and forth three times before I pull them out and hold eye contact with him as I dip them into my mouth.
Saint goes slack-jawed as he watches me through hooded eyes. “Now what?”
“Do it again, but this time put them in my mouth.”
I do as he says, my body coming alive at my touch. When I remove my fingers, I take them to him, and place them to his lips. With his other hand, he grips my wrist and feeds them into his mouth. Heat pulses through me in waves. The look in his eyes is hungry. Feral.
He licks between them before he releases them with a pop. “You taste so fucking good.”
In one swift move, he grabs my hips, lifts me, then sets me down on the edge of the bed. Saint drops to his knees between my legs and pushes me back so he can get to my pussy. “Oh, God, Saint,” I groan and grip his hair.
“Inside voice,” he grunts. “And ride my fucking face.”
I don’t need telling twice. The feel of his rough palms against my thighs is such a turn-on. As is the magic he’s currently working with his tongue against my clit.
It feels raw and intense.
I want it to last, yet I want to come.
He adds a finger, then another. His tongue licks and sucks my clit. It’s noisy and messy. I want all of it.
My legs begin to shake as I detonate for him, my hips lifting, then he holds me down on the bed.
“Knees,” Saint says. As I climb onto all fours, he tugs me right back to the edge of the bed, where he stands behind me. Within seconds, he’s sheathed and thrusting deep inside me.
I hear the hiss of his breath as he does so.
He pauses, seated deep. Almost too deep. I can feel him throb inside me. It’s too good. “Jesus, Rose. You feel so fucking tight like this.”
I place my forehead down on the bed, but as I move to stretch my arms past my head, Saint grabs them and holds them in one fist behind my back. I’m completely at his mercy, unable to properly support myself.
“You don’t like this, call me Ryker. Otherwise, don’t make a sound.” Saint grunts. And without warning, he slaps my ass, hard. The sting burning as I clench around his cock. “That’s for breaking your promise to do as I say and to leave without me.”
I try to raise my head to say something, but he slaps me again. “And that’s for calling me an old man.”
He isn’t moving his cock. It’s deep inside me, stretching me wide. The feelings are confusing. The pain and the heat. It’s like ice and fire.
“Please, Saint,” I beg.
He slaps me again. “That’s for speaking when I said not to.”
I can feel a second orgasm building. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy this. How much I needed it.
“Fuck, I can feel how much you want this,” Saint says. “You need some more.”
I nod. Following his instructions. He slaps me again, then runs his palm over my ass, making it burn more. “Feel good, Rose?” he asks.
