Page 106 of Loving the Liar

And those words. They’re not only not his voice, but they’re also not words he would use. They don’t have the adoration his descriptions of me do.

When I can finally see a face in front of me, I can’t say I recognize it. He’s a Shadow, but I have no idea who. Just another man who thinks the rules don’t apply to him.

“Aren’t you a desperate fucking whore?” he snickers. “Look at how fucking wet you are. I understand now why he wouldn’t say anything to us upstairs. I would keep this to myself too.”

But I’m not desperate anymore. Not with him around. Not with his dull eyes on me that are nothing like Chris’s. Not with his dirty words that are like a bucket of ice water on my entire body. I feel a shiver of disgust running through me, the egg suddenly hurting despite its low setting.

I’m pressing myself against the chair when his disgusting hands touch my boobs, shaking my head no. A scream gets lodged in my throat, impossible to get it out with the gag.

It barely lasts a few seconds before a colossal presence appears behind him. Chris is so much taller I can see his furious face as he stands behind the man.

It’s almost delicate. All I see are the man’s eyes widening, a strange scream of shock and pain leaving him. His hands leave my body, and he falls to the floor on his side.

“A pity that some men don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves, isn’t it?” Chris says to him.

The man is blinking with shock, unsure what’s happening to him, but his face twists with pain. And that’s when I see the same scissors Chris used to cut my clothes lodged in his lower back. My heart stops, muscles tightening to the point of pain. Did he just…

“Are you okay, Sweets?” he asks me like I’m his only focus. The egg inside me stops, but Chris’s hand on my chin ignites the fire within me again.

He just stabbed a man. Come back down to earth.

But I can’t, not when he sees my need flaring. I can see that he notices. His grip is tighter, a low growl leaving him.

“Oh, baby. You’re incorrigible.”

He grazes my nipple, making my eyes flutter shut. “Does it turn you on to see me hurt someone for you?”

I shake my head, but the truth shows when I press my tits harder against him. He pulls out the egg, and I moan loudly.

“Only desperate for me,” he says assuredly. “My slut. My girl. Mine.”

When he finally releases me from the gag, a moan of relief leaves me. My mouth feels like cotton from being held in the same position for so long. He pulls down his pants and boxers, releasing his hard dick with a groan. Then he undoes the cuffs around my thighs, pulls my ass to the edge of the chair, and wraps my legs around his waist.

“Open your mouth. Show me the mess I made of you. That’s it, baby. Show me your tongue. What a pretty, perfect slut.”

I’m sticking out my tongue so far it hurts, but I’m ready to do anything for him to fuck me, to own me, to put me in my fucking place.

He presses the tip of his dick against my entrance, and the pleasure of that only makes me throw my head back. It earns me a slap. Nothing painful, a reminder to follow orders.

“Back in position. Tongue out. Now.”

The stern order at the same time as he pushes in slowly makes me execute. I put out my tongue, and his smirk melts my sanity.

He grips my chin, holding me in place, and spits on my tongue.

“Swallow.”

And as I do, he pushes all the way inside me, making me whimper from the overwhelming relief as he fills me.

“Whose slut are you, Ella?”

“Yours, Daddy,” I moan.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you,” I pant, feeling my orgasm coming at me like a fast train.

“What an obedient little desperate thing you are,” he growls against my neck, biting my skin.

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