Page 91 of Merciful Lies

Nico is a beast. He’s dominant and intense. His body seems made for me. And I love every bit of it.

“Love you, Rosebud, so fucking much,” he says as he fucks me.

He tears at my pretty dress, but I don’t give two shits. I need to feel all of him, too. And as he rips off his shirt and presses his chest to my swollen, aching breasts I moan aloud.

“Fuck. S’good,” he says.

I nod and watch as he claims me with his body. His face is a story. And that story is so damn complex.

He looks like he’s in the throes of something biblical. Something heart wrenching and soul breaking. I want to soothe him. To ease whatever he is feeling, but I feel it, too.

His hands are on my throat, and he squeezes, those electric eyes watching me for every expression following my movements hungrily like he can't wait to learn everything about me.

I let him. I give him complete control of my body, and he rewards me with another long stroke of his dick, grinding his pubis against my clit and sending torrents of ecstasy racing through me.

The way he makes me feel, I can’t describe it. It just gets better every time. It’s more every single time.

My pussy twitches and flutters, I am so ready to explode.

“Tell me,” he commands.

“Gonna, oh fuck, Nico, I’m coming.”

And he’s right there with me.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE-NICO

Iglance at Anna in the back seat with me. She’s wearing one of the spare button downs I keep in my office.

I have extra slacks in my office, but she looked at me like I was out of my fucking mind when I offered, and I didn’t push her.

I’m a big guy and the shirt is long enough on her that she’s decent. She looks good in my clothes.

Sexy and rumpled.

Like she’s just been well-fucked, which she has.

She smells like me, too. Like my soap. And I like it.

I fucking like it a lot.

We took a fast shower, rinsing off the mess we made and whereas I could put back on my pants and slide into another shirt, her dress and panties were hopelessly ruined.

But she’s being quiet now.

Too quiet.

I have to talk to her. I want to know what she’s thinking, but I won’t ask her. Not where Tommy can hear us.

Sure, my driver is discreet. He has to be to keep his fucking job.

But this is personal.

So, I wait until we’re in the elevator. My nerves are stretched taut, like Odysseus’ bow strings.

I feel tight. So fucking tight. And ready to bust a vein.

“You lied.”

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