Page 50 of Tell Me Lies: Manlove Edition

“Yes,” I agree, overly eager.

“I wasn’t asking you, just confirming that you want, like, not just sex but dates and seeing movies together and shit? Like in public?”

“Why is this so hard for you to believe?”

“Well...” Laur fumbles for an answer. “You could … anybody in that club would just…”

He pushes me away again, but moves with me, so that I end up on my back and he leans over me. No longer accepting kisses but giving them tentatively as if the taste of my skin might poison him. “You really never dated anyone before?”

I shrug. “Just Paul, and I don’t know if he would call it dating. It certainly wasn’t healthy. And no one else … you cared. You remembered I didn’t drink coffee.”

He tsks. “Anyone who doesn’t have a coffeemaker either drinks tea or orange juice. Anyone could figure that out. I broke into your house.”

“Well, I stalked you and then jumped you in the privacy of your home.”

“And I’m still mad at you for that, by the way.” Laur opens the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a tiny jar of Vaseline.

“Ooh, you gonna drag me into your dungeon and punish me?” I spread my legs to accommodate his greased fingertips. I moan lewdly when he pushes inside, considerably easier than when I’d finger-fucked him earlier.

“I think you like my punishment,” Laur whispers into my neck.

His ear is near my mouth, and I moan lustily for him as he stretches and opens me.

He presses his lips against my neck. “I bet all the guys you slept with took one look at you and decided they weren’t worthy.”

“Sure.” I roll my eyes. “Or they got a look at my medicine cabinet and ran.”

“You’ve got it under control.”

It’s my turn to lean back to look at him with disbelief.

“When you don’t have your routine fucked up by, you know, assholes with dungeons.”

He runs his hands over my chest, and I rock my hips into his fingers. What a strange and intimate way to have a conversation. Even as he pushes in a third, I know I want more than his fingers can give me.

“I’ll be a rotten boyfriend,” he admits, getting rough and twisting. “Emotionally constipated, mean as hell. I might have a drinking problem, too. Not to mention ass-ugly.”

I place my hand on his neck and pull him down to my level to kiss him. The taste of whiskey burns against my lips. He shifts between my legs, pulling out his fingers and angling his cock.

“I might be shit at monogamy.” I pull away from the kiss and confess. “I have very poor impulse control.”

He pins my shoulders and pushes his cock inside. I gasp from the sharp pain as his cock plunges farther than his fingers have been able to reach. Laur groans from the pleasure, arching back away from me. I feel the tremble that rocks through his body and wonder if it was his shredded muscles spasming or the sex.

Laur looks at me, helpless, with love, I think. “We’ll get good at forgiving each other.”

“Yeah.” I nod and swivel my hips to offer more of myself to his cock.

He grunts and starts to thrust. He could be truly brutal when he moved, but he’s clearly trying to keep it gentle. Problem is, he’s gripping my thigh as if he’s worried I’ll slip out of his clawed grip.

“Touch yourself,” he commands.

He means my cock. He wants to watch me cum. But I obey only the suggestion, moving one hand over my chest and abs as I rock back into his hard thrusts. Squeezing my own nipples, rubbing my neck and side, dancing around his cock.

“You sexy bitch,” he growls and fucks harder.

“Touch me, Laur,” I beg.

He strokes along with the pace he’s set. I gasp and feel the orgasm rising faster than I thought possible, like everything in me wanted to flood out and drown this man.

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