Page 68 of Loving the Liar

“Good girl,” he purrs, fucking me a little faster with his fingers. “I’m a man of my word. So I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to let me fuck you on your desk like I promised, won’t you?”

“Oh God, yes…yes.”

“Atta girl. But because you tried to make this hard on us, I’ll just remind you of your place, okay?”

He slows down, easing out more pleasure I’m desperate to hold on to. But then his hands leave me completely, and I release a whimper. I’m the one keeping myself flat against the door now, and my brain liquifies when he says. “Crawl to your desk.”

How can a man make you moan without touching you?

He helps me turn around to face him. There’s something reassuring about seeing his amber eyes again. They warm me from the inside out, make me feel loved when he treats me like a toy.

I’m safe with him, aren’t I?

His hand slips under my skirt and he lowers my sodden panties until they’re around my knees.

“Before I have to repeat myself, baby. Come on.”

I’m not safe. My heart isn’t safe. My reputation isn’t safe. My life isn’t safe. But the illusion of safety works for me.

I drop to my knees like a supplicant before their god. I comply like the sex slave the Silent Circle wants to make me. But none of them can make me do the things Christopher Murray can.

No one will ever get the worship I have toward him. When my mind forgets, my body doesn’t. And when I refuse to accept it, he makes sure I remember why everything is better when he’s around.

Flipping my skirt up, he exposes me.

The fear of someone coming in?

The shame of being the other woman?

The threat of my life blowing up to pieces?

It’s all worth it when I crawl to my desk and feel his gaze glued to my pussy.

“Ella,” he sighs, almost like he tried to resist and gave up. “How in the world do you expect me to stay away from you?”

The need in his voice somehow makes me more desperate for him. This shouldn’t be so rewarding. With the underwear around my knees, it’s harder to move, but he’s patient, following me closely, stopping when I stop.

He helps me up and hoists me onto the desk before fisting my panties. Dragging them down my legs, he puts his free hand at the back of my head. His eyes drink me in, liquid poison filling him up.

“Open.”

I do. And I let him shove my wet panties in my mouth.

“We can’t have anyone waiting outside hearing you come on my dick.”

Checking his watch, he grunts, undoing his belt. “I don’t like rushing, but I don’t want anyone to see you like this. So beautiful and needy. That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

I nod like the wanton woman he made me, already trembling when he grabs my hips.

He pulls me to the edge of the table and lines himself with me.

My eyes widen when I feel the tip of his dick against my entrance.

“Condom,” I try to say, which I can’t, of course.

I go to take the panties out of my mouth, but he grabs one hand, and then the other, in one tight grip. He pulls me closer with the hold on my hip, my joint hands against my chest…and pushes inside me.

This man is stupid big. The kind I couldn’t have imagined before I met him. And I haven’t slept with him in almost a year.

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