Page 83 of Vengeful Lies

I slide my fingers over his chest, admiring his muscles. Eli’s body is exquisite, like a sculpture made by a master artist. The ridges that run down his stomach are perfectly defined all the way to his very hard cock. I smirk at the scar from the knife wound I gave him when we first met and my initials carved into his leg that are scabbed over.

I don’t know why, but it fills me with a small amount of smugness. That no matter how this ends—most certainly up in flames—there will always be a small part of me etched into him.

Shouldn’t I be at least satisfied by that?

“Jewel?” he says my name, tilting my chin up to study my face. Those beautiful, ethereal eyes that are so breathtaking look into me like he can see all of me. But there are parts of me he doesn’t see at all. Parts I’ve hidden from even myself up until now. And I’d rather keep it that way.

“This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just two adults enjoying each other’s bodies in a temporary truce,” I tell him.

His hands run down my collarbone, breasts, and stomach until they land possessively on my hips.

“If you say so,” he replies with a grin before pulling me close. He fists my hair possessively, and before I can say another word,his mouth finds mine. He tastes like a mixture of water and greedy lust.

I hate to admit that I like the way he kisses me—with such ferocity that it’s like he can’t get enough of me. I kiss him more softly as if I want to worship the moment. Because I do. Having a powerful man want me like he does is intoxicating, to say the least. But I can tell I’m savoring it for other reasons. It isn’t my place to be by his side as much as I want it to be.

We break the kiss, and I pull back to look up at him.

“I don’t want to share a bed with you,” I tell him, purposefully antagonizing him.

“You’ll be sharingourbed,” he states, then proceeds to kiss me again.

I shove him back against the tiles, and he smirks at the move. “You do not have free access to me. I am not yours.”

His hand glides over my stomach, then slips lower, sliding along my folds, before he inserts one finger into me and hooks into the sweet spot.

“No access. Got it.” His thumb rubs over my clit, and he tries to kiss me again, but I push him back. I’m trying to make this thing between us only physical.

“Stop being so…” I wave a hand at him, and he tries to hide his smile but fails miserably.

“You need to let me release some of this tension,” he states, and before I can say another word, he’s fisting my hair tighter and turning me so my back is to him, ass brushing against his cock. “Let me assist in your release.”

“You sound like a dickhead,” I inform him as I spread my legs a little wider, allowing his cock to tease my entrance. He slaps my ass hard before lifting his hand to my breast and twisting my nipple.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you say you want this cock”? He pushes inside me, but just the tip, before he pulls back out and gives my ass another slap.

“Eli,” I growl, infuriated at his teasing.

“No, you can call me husband from now on.”

This time, when he starts to push inside, I push back, and he makes a weird grunting sound as he enters me. The minute he’s inside me, we pause, a sigh of relief escaping us both. It feels so good… so full. His labored breathing matches mine. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he says in a gravelly voice that’s dropped a few octaves. He sounds unhinged, as he always does before he turns into a feral animal. I move my hips forward and then push back again, fucking myself on his cock. He remains still for a moment, appreciating the view as water washes over our sins.

Fuck, he feels good. His hands are still as if he can’t function. That is until he pulls out of me completely, lets go of my hair, turns me around to face him, and slams me against the tiled wall, one hand going to my throat. I wrap a leg around his hip, and he snarls at me.

“Stop it,” he growls.

“Stop what?” I tease

“Trying to be in control.”

“I’ve seen you fuck, or have you forgotten? Shut up and fuck me.” I try to rub against him, but he shakes his head, trying to keep a bit of distance between us, as if he knows if he gets too close, I’ll have him.

“You have my ring on your finger; you will call me your husband as we fuck.”

“You aren’t my husband yet.”

He smiles evilly, then lifts my hand to his lips, sucking my ring finger into his mouth while maintaining eye contact with me. Something happens between my legs as his tongue circlesaround my finger before he pulls it free. And then he drops to his knees.

His fucking knees.

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