Page 12 of Lie With Me

“PrettyWomanis my favorite movie. I’ve always wanted to reenact the piano scene,” I whisper into the space between us as he closes the distance.

His hands find my thighs as he steps between them and jerks me forward so that my butt is nearly hanging off the edge. “Never seen it. But I think I have a pretty good idea of how that scene goes.”

The words are husky and thick with need as he lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me with as much passion as he did earlier on the sidewalk.

Ken kisses with precision and tastes like perfection. Most men drown you in saliva or lick your whole face when they kiss the way he does. But as he devours me, I can’t help but think about how perfectly his tongue fits against mine.

Sliding my hands up his arms to tangle them in his hair, I gently pull him back and offer my neck.Obediently, his lips rain kisses down my flesh, stopping now and then to suck my skin into his mouth, leaving light love bites.

His lips are soft as they trail between my breasts. He pulls the cup of my bra down to release my nipple. We lock eyes as he licks the hardened bud before drawing it between his perfect teeth and biting down.

Warmth floods my flimsy thong, smearing along my inner thighs as my legs spread wider to accommodate him as he continues his journey. Reaching for the sides of my underwear, he drags them down my legs slowly, pausing as he reveals the jagged scar that mars my tan skin just below my abdomen.

“What happened?” he asks gently. As if he knows the question might bring up bad memories.

“I was attacked when I was a kid. I know it’s ugly.” I laugh lightly, trying not to let the memory resurface and ruin the moment.

Ken’s eyes snap from my scar to my face, blatant reverence shining through. “You’re perfect,” he whispers as he lowers his head and kisses my flesh directly over the ugly, bumpy tissue.

“So fucking perfect,” he reiterates before his tongue swipes up my slit.

I’m almost embarrassed at how wet I am. The distinct sound of him lapping up my essence, swallowing it down while I moan and writhe on top of the piano that undoubtedly belongs to his ex, fills the room.

The tip of his tongue flicks against my swollen clitas he leans into me, lifting my legs over his shoulders. He cages my hips, reaching up to palm my naked breast and pull the other out of my bra as well.

“Ride my face,” he commands, pulling a moan from my throat at his authoritative tone.

I usually like to be in control. I’ve always liked to be in control during sex since I was a teenager. But here, in this room, on top of this piano, withhim…he could tie me up and fuck me all night however he wanted, and I’d be happy to let him do it.

My nails scrape against his scalp as he continues worshiping me with his mouth. The piano keys sing their piercing notes as he leans against them while I undulate my hips against his face, creating the sweetest music. His tongue drags against my silken flesh as he swallows wave after wave of release that spills from between my thighs as I come with a cry.

When he gently pulls my legs from his shoulders, he leans forward and draws me close before capturing my lips. He tastes like the biggest mistake I’m about to make, because I already don’t want to let him go.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask between kisses.

“I’m clean.” He wraps my legs around his waist and drags his lips down my neck as he walks us down the hall to what I assume is his bedroom.

I nip his earlobe. “So am I, or I certainly wouldn’t have let you go down on me. But no glove, no love, sweetheart.”

I’ve been incredibly lucky not to have caught anything when I was younger. Momma always madethe men wear condoms, and whatever higher power that exists always looked out for me.

We get tested weekly at the club: the workers and the clients. Safety is a top priority.

I’ve never fucked a man bareback.

Ken chuckles against my collarbone and tightens his fingers around my thighs as he lowers me to his bed. “Yes, I have condoms. Plural. I plan on fucking you until the sun comes up.”

He walks backward as he undoes his pants, then turns into his en suite to—I assume—grab the condoms. Ridding myself of my bra that’s half hanging on, I fling it to the floor and lay back, stretching out over the feathery soft duvet. The entire bed feels like a cloud, and I close my eyes while I wait for him, imagining what it would be like to sleep in this level of comfort every night.

“You’re not already tired, are you?” he asks as he returns. When I open my eyes, he’s naked, cock pointing proudly in my direction and sheathed in a translucent condom.

Licking my lips while I stare at his length, I shake my head. “Definitely not.”

It, like the rest of him, is perfection. He looks about eight inches long and thick enough to make me feel full without hurting.

Most men assume that women in my profession are loose and have large labia from beingpounded out too many times.It always pisses me off to hear men—and women—talk shit about a female that way. Ladybits come in all shapes and sizes. It doesn’t mean we're loose because we like sex.

Ken kneels on the bed and braces his weight on his fists, crawling until he’s caged me against the fluffy blanket. “Good.” He nudges my nose with his. “Because I plan on staying up very,verylate.”

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