Page 77 of Marry Lies
I’m alone down here anyway.
“That’s it. You’re such a good girl, taking my cock so well,” Ryder growls.
“Yes, god, yes! Harder, please.”
“You want Daddy to fuck you harder, Belle? How do you ask?”
“Please, Daddy. Please give it to me harder,” I beg.
I blush as I load my bowl in the dishwasher, biting my lower lip as it continues to play.
“Are you going to come for Daddy, angel?”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m so close.”
“That’s it,” he growls. “Your cunt is milking my cock, sweet girl.” Wrapping his hands around my neck, he continues to pound into me. My knees shake beneath me as he thrusts up into me and—
Someone clears their throat behind me, and I jump about twenty feet into the air, spinning around and swiping my phone, pressing pause quickly.
Miles is leaning against the opposite wall of the kitchen, smirking.
“Morning, Estelle.”
My heart is in my throat, and I take a steadying breath before glaring at him. “Jesus, Miles. You scared me.”
His eyebrows quirk up as he glances down at my phone quickly. “Now I know why you always have those earbuds in. You’re listening to porn.”
I scowl. “It’s notporn, you heathen. It’s romance.” I close the dishwasher and turn to face him, arms crossed. “I’ll have you know I read, like, three books a week,” I add, defending my addiction.
His lips twitch as he pushes off the wall. “I probably would, too, if my books had scenes like that in them. So, Daddy kink?” he asks, his lips curving ever so slightly. Not quite a smile, but close.
I glare at him. “How long were you listening?”
“Long enough,” he adds, walking to the fridge. “Feeling better?” he asks, eyes scanning my face.
I shuffle my feet a bit, looking down at the floor for a second before meeting his gaze once more. “I am.”
Is he going to bring up the fact that we cuddled every night?
Something unsure flashes across his features. “Good. I’m happy to hear that.”
Something about the way he says that last part makes my heart flutter lightly in my chest, and I can’t help but smile wider.
It sounds almost likeconcern.
Before I can contemplate his words further, he takes a step closer, hands in the pockets of his pants. He has more scruff than normal, he’s not wearing a tie, and his white button-up is unbuttoned by one button–the furthest I’ve ever seen his throat exposed. A mix of intrigue and guilt swirl in my gut when I realize he likely didn’t have time to shave the last few mornings. My eyes flick to the shiny scar right under his jaw before coming back to his face.
“What was that book called, anyway?” he asks, his voice a low murmur.
Relief washes through me. I’m glad he’s not talking about it. It helps me to move on—to forget about it until the next episode happens.
It helps me when I get back to my normal life.
I swallow as he stops a foot away. “I can’t remember.”
At this, he smiles. And …god.His smile could win entire wars.
Before I can stop him, he reaches behind me and swipes my phone from the counter. I try to grab it from him, but he’s quicker. I see his eyes widen as he takes in the screen—a cover of the scantily-clad, older man.
