Page 81 of Marry Lies
“Yes,” I gasp out.
“Mmm, I’m sure you do. What about the fact that anyone could walk in and see us?”
I can hardly see straight. Stars begin to dance in my vision, and each thrust against my clit threatens to send me over the edge.
“My wife is so needy,” he murmurs. “I fucking love it.”
A whole body shiver works through me at his words. If I’d known how much of a dirty talker he was—
“There are so many ways I want to paint you with my cum,” he says, hips jerking erratically. “So many things I can do to you,” he adds.
“Miles, I’m coming.”
He lets out a low groan just as my orgasm slices through me quickly. Gripping onto his shoulders, I let it roll through me as my toes curl, as my thighs clench.
“That’s it, butterfly,” he growls. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”
He stills, but his cock pulses against me from inside of his pants. Wetness seeps between us, and I’m still panting as he finishes.
I lower myself carefully, even though my legs are jelly. When I look up at Miles, he’s watching me with a heated expression. A smile tugs at his lips, and then he’s reaching over to the table for a serviette to clean us up. Without a second thought, his arm comes underneath my dress, wiping up the mess he created against my knickers. Quickly grabbing his shirt, he buttons himself back up.
“You should finish your dinner, Estelle,” he says, discarding the napkin and placing his hands in the pockets of his suit pants as he watches me.
I don’t know what else to do, so I walk back around to my seat at the table, feeling disoriented. Miles takes his usual seat, too, and when I look up at him, he’s watching me with fire behind his eyes.
“I’d say that was a six out of ten, yeah?”
I’m still laughing when the chef comes in to clear our plates a minute later, looking thoroughly confused as to why our food seems completely untouched.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
THE EDUCATION
Miles
After finishing the dessert course, Estelle and I walk back to our living quarters side by side. A small part of me is proud at the way her cheeks are still flushed—at how wild her hair looks. When I close the door behind us, she turns to face me.
“Thank you. For showing me your scars,” she clarifies, cheeks reddening to an even deeper shade.
I take a step forward so we’re only inches apart. Placing a hand on her cheek, something inside of me stirs at the way she seems to nuzzle into my touch.
“It’s only fair.” I smile as I step away, letting my hand fall. “Goodnight, Estelle. I’ll see you in the morning for our walk.”
I barely catch the surprised expression on her face before I turn and walk to my bedroom, closing the door behind me as I lean against it.
She might think I’m finally conceding to her walks, but the truth is, I am terrified to see her sad again. And if walking helps her, I’d do it every goddamn day of the week. Though I know it’s very likely she’ll have more episodes over the course of the year, I can at least do my part to help her to avoid them however I can.
I pull off my clothes, smiling when I think of the way she writhed against me. The way she smelled. The noises she made. This had, somehow, become bigger than an obsession.
I am consumed. Tormented.Possessed.
After taking a quick shower, I sit down on my bed and check my phone, my towel still wrapped around my waist. There’s a text from Chase, and I scowl when I see it’s a link to Instagram. I don’t have any social media accounts that I run personally, though our publicists run our RCF accounts.
When I open it up, I’m surprised to find that it’s a link to a picture of Estelle and I on our wedding day. I’m not sure who took it because the image is slightly blurry, and I recognize it as our kiss at the altar.
Right after the commissioner had pronounced us husband and wife.
My eyes scan the account, and I realize with a start that it’s Estelle’s account. I scroll a bit to read the caption of the picture she posted.
