Page 127 of The Lies We Steal

She doesn’t miss a beat, “I want it, fuck, I want it, please.” Practically shaking when I thrust hard inside of her, filling her to the hilt. She spreads her thighs more, letting me reach deeper at this angle and we both fall into an ocean of pleasure.

I revel in the sounds of her whimpering in both pleasure and discomfort. Breathing heavily through her teeth as her body is forced to adjust to me. I don’t give her much time to think about it, because I’m already starting to find a brutal pace as I piston my hips in and out of her.

That’s what we did. In middle of my tattoo shop, we fucked. I stole her breath, while I shoved my cock so deep inside of her she’d feel me for years. We didn’t need the Christmas carols and the tree. We just need each other and this. This furious, soul-destroying bond that I would rather die than lose.

“Fuck—” She gasps breathlessly, her body unable to do anything other than moan and urge me forward with her willing pussy. “So close.”

I yank back on the leash, pull the air from her lungs abruptly, her entire back plastered to my front as I thrust upward, my free arm wrapped tightly around her waist. The lewd sounds of our bodies coming together over and over again fuels me to give her more.

I fuck her into the mirror, my body and cock pinning her the way she liked. Briar loved it when I shoved her into unforgiving surfaces.

Her legs start shaking, her body going limp as she struggles to scream when she comes on my shaft, milking me for all I’m worth. I let go of the plastic completely, my hand immediately finding her hip to grip her so I can pound into her ruthlessly chasing my own orgasm.

The pulsating tightness of her pushes me over the edge, the hand on her hip travels up to her scalp, grabbing a fistful of honey blonde hair and pull upward. Her head tilting from the mirror, worn down, flushed,“Mine.” I groan, as I look into the mirror, making eye contact with her.

“Yours.” She mumbles.

My orgasm takes me, just as I pull out, thick, warm strings of come paint her back. It spasms and pulsates, quivering from the force. I keep a hold of her hair, tilting her face so that she’s looking over her shoulder.

My lips pressing into her hot mouth, my tongue dipping inside, pouring all of my emotion down her throat. Hoping it will be enough to keep her close, keep her by myside.

“Forever, Little Thief.” I say, as I bite at her bottom lip, “This is forever.”

I heard her heartbeat, just like I did the night she ran from me in the woods. It was beating for the darkness. Beating for me.

I tried to catch my breath, listening to my own heart.

Listening to it match her rhythm.

Two hearts destined to be alone found one another, joining hands and kept beating.

Together.

Briar

IfI saw one more welcome back poster I was going to hurl my coffee at it.

The Christmas break was over, which meant waking up at the crack of dawn instead of going to sleep. It would take me months to get my sleep schedule back in order after the three weeks I’d had off.

Between Lyra and Alistair I rarely went to sleep before five in the morning. My boyfriend and best friend were night owls that had pulled me over to the dark side. Now I trudged up the steps of my first lecture hall, Lyra skipping in front of me like she isn’t sleep deprived. We both were taking a foreign language class this year and we’d thankfully ended up with the same professor.

I slumped down into the chair, slamming my head down onto the desk in front of me and shielding my eyes from the bright lights inside the room. All I wanted was to be curled up in bed sleeping and Alistair’s hoodie was doing nothing at all to wake me up.

The scent that stuck to it only made me warm, sleepier.

When he told me he didn’t have class till ten, I debated on throwing a textbook at him. Whoever thought Latin at 8:30 in the morning was a good idea could fall in a hole.

“I’m going to die of sleep deprivation.” I groan.

“How about you don’t do that. Alistair will be up our asses with depression if you die.” I lift my head just an inch to see Rook sliding into the row with us, sporting a black eye and busted lip.

“I hope the other guy looks worse than you do.” Lyra notes.

He just shrugs, giving us a lopsided grin before sitting down, and leaning back in his chair. I can smell weed sticking to his clothing like cologne, the red rim of his eyes making the color stand out.

Myself, Lyra and the rest of the boys had slowly started to become friends. I say slowly only because of Thatcher, who I still had a love-hate relationship with. There were times I could envision myself strangling him to death and other times I didn’t know what the group would look like without him.

I’d spent an entire day at Thatcher’s house, meeting his very normal grandparents for Christmas. When I tell you it was the oddest day of my life, I mean it. Four of the most chaotic, damaged men I’d ever met acting like the perfect gentlemen for a little ol’ lady named May.

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