Page 93 of Pitiful Lies

That fucking mouth.

If anyone asked me what my favorite part of a woman is a year ago, I’d say something stupid. Like her tits. Or her ass.

And don’t get me wrong. Giselle has fantastic tits, and her ass is divine.

But it’s her mouth that gets me every fucking time.

The things she says. The sounds she makes. The way she tastes.

Fuck. Me.

I fucking love her mouth. I’m obsessed with it.

With her. I love her.

Emotion sizzles through me, and I am so fucking amped. I know I said we’d stay an hour, but I’ve had enough of these people and this place.

I want to be alone with my woman.

My Little Doll.

I want to peel that gown off her smooth skin, touch her softness, test how wet she is for me. I want her juices dripping down my chin, soaking my balls as I fuck her hard and deep with nothing between us.

After that day we talked about protection, I sent her copies of my most recent physicals. I’m fucking clean and I know she is, too. She hasn’t mentioned it again and I’m glad.

Of course, if she insisted, I’d wear a condom. Hell. I’d wear two. But the fact is I don’t want a fucking thing between us when we make love.

Or fuck.

Or whatever.

Shit.

I guess it is making love. Even when we fuck.

I can say it now. Because I love her. I’m wild about her.

Giselle completes something in me I didn’t know was missing. But now that I have her, I don’t want to know what it feels like to be missing that piece ever again.

Wife.

I called her wife before, and it felt so fucking right. The more I think about it, the more I want it.

Her.

As my wife.

I need to keep her with me. I plan to.

If I have to fuck her into submission to walk her down the aisle, I will. But I think maybe she wants me just as much as I want her.

Is it possible she loves me?

She’s looking up at me now, her peridot eyes glowing and my chest squeezes. I don’t know if she loves me or not.

But I want her to. And I can help her get there.

“Fuck this. Let’s go.”

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