Page 88 of Filthy Liar

I will.

After I come—after she comes.

“Touch yourself for me, baby. Make yourself come on my cock. I want to feel you strangle me like only you can.”

Her breathing comes out in pants, but with the way her neck is arched, she can’t say anything. Can’t even really make a sound. She is held perfectly for me. I don’t stop moving, don’t stop fucking her wet heat, then I feel her fingers between her legs.

“Play that clit for me. Come, baby.”

Her fingers begin to move. She begins to play. It’s almost too much, but it’s not. I’m not sure that too much and Dillion could be in a sentence together anyway. She is always just enough—always.

“Come for me, baby,” I whisper softly.

The demand bounces off the wall in front of us before it comes back to our ears. When she comes, I feel it before she says a word, before she whimpers, before anything verbally happens. Her pussy squeezes me, and she forces my own climax.

My balls empty, and I come hard inside of her.

Releasing my hand from her hair, I wrap my fingers around the front of her throat and collapse against her back. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” I demand in a whisper.

She doesn’t say anything immediately. Her breathing takes a moment for her to catch. I don’t step back from her. I have a feeling that trapping her is going to be the only way I can gain information from her ass.

“Nothing,” she lies again.

I hum, not believing her for a single fucking moment. It is not nothing. It is very much something. She turns her head, her eyes narrowing at me from over her shoulder.

I smile down at her. I fucking love the way she looks at me, especially when she’s a little pissed off but mostly satisfied. Plus, since my cock is inside of her, she could look at me cross-eyed, and I’d probably love it, too.

“Liar,” I hiss.

That’s it. That single word is what sets her off. She tries to get away from me, but I don’t let her. I’m staying right fucking here. My cock is only half-mast, but it doesn’t matter. I'm staying inside of her sweet cunt.

“I’m not the liar,” she hisses.

I snort. “This shit again. Because I didn’t tell you that I have been visiting you in the middle of the night?” I ask. “What the fuck?” I demand.

She tries to get away from me again, and this time, I let her. She spins around, tugging her shorts up at the same time. I pull my jeans up my hips as well. Her eyes flick up to meet mine. I can see the anger resonating behind them.

Then she speaks, and when she does, I feel guilty, but just for a fleeting moment.

“You are an asshole. I’m pissed at you for a million different reasons. You played me. You lied to me. You pretended to be something you weren’t. Then I find out that you don’t even really like me. I’m just something that was basically won in a war. A war that I wasn’t even involved in. So, what the fuck is fuckingright,” she says, her voice rising with each word she says, and by the end of her tirade, she’s yelling.

I’m not sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say to that. I did win her. She’s my prisoner of war. But I’m happy about it, and I like having her at my side. I like having her with me in general.

“I didn’t play you,” I snap. “I kept the truth from you because I didn’t want you to feel like I fuckingtookyou and you were a prisoner. I wanted you to actually fucking like me because I like you. I like the woman you are. I think you’re cute as fuck. I like the way you feel around me. I want to keep you.”

“What if I don’t want you to keep me?” she growls. “What if I want to be my own person and have my freedom and live my life?”

Tears well in her eyes. I cup her cheek. Dipping my chin, I touch my mouth to hers. “I refuse it because you’re who I want, baby. You’re it for me. You’re mine.”

Her breath hitches, she hiccups, and she takes a step backward. Then she lifts her eyes to meet mine. I can tell she’s straight-up pissed the fuck off, and I’m sure I should feel a certain way about it, but I don’t.

She’s mine.

Simply.

And wholly.

She.

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