Page 43 of Promiscuous Lies

He removes one hand from my ass and wastes no time sliding a finger inside me.

It’s so sudden and purposeful that another moan slips from me.

My hands are clenched at my sides, dying to touch him as his tongue works even faster and more persistently.

“Dutton.” His name slips from my lips, and he pulls back for a moment. I’m confused, and I look down at him expectantly.

“That’s the first time you ever called me by my name instead of boss or asshole,Mostriciattola.”

My brow furrows in confusion because, although I’ve overheard him speaking fluent Italian, I have no idea what he just called me.

“I told you not to give me a reason to tell you no,” I growl; I don’t want him to get sentimental or show he has a slither of emotion in him just because I finally used his name. It’d be a total buzz kill to the hard fucking I expect.

He smirks and plants his lips back on my clit, the suction pacifying me and pulling out a deep hunger. I fall back as much as I can into the bliss. Small whimpers escape me as I let him worship me and let all my worries and concerns fall by the wayside. This man breaks me apart in ways I never thought possible.

Then he pulls back and stands, and I instantly miss the feel of him. My eyes snap open, and I expect him to reprimand me for not staring at him like he had last time, but instead, he begins unbuttoning his shirt. I follow his lead, reaching behind to unhook my bra, leaving me in just the leather skirt.

When his shirt hits the floor, I have a moment to appreciate his muscles. He’s fucking stunning. Lean with six-pack abs and arms that easily carry my weight over his shoulder. But there are also cuts and scars all over his body. A sensation of danger tingles through me, a reminder that this man is not someone to be trifled with. I, more than anyone, should know better than to mingle with a man like this. And yet I gravitate toward him like a moth to a flame.

I realize then that Dutton has done his best to try to be professional, except for, of course, when he’s acting like a caveman and dragging me off stage. Because in all the times and ways he’s looked at me, his gaze has never lingered at work. But now it’s all-consuming.

He admires me, which I appreciate. I’m very much used to men admiring my naked body. It’s how I earned money before Dutton gave me my new job. But having a man admire me after he was just between my legs? Well, that’s a new experience for me, and I really fucking like it. Especially how his gaze greedily takes me in, like he’s seeing more than just my body.It’s like he’s seeing all of me.

My boss might be an asshole, but right now, he looks as if he’s under my spell, and I want to see what might happen if I tryto break the cool intensity of his control. He’s so used to having everything go his way. I want to make him break apart.

“My turn,” I purr as I drop to my knees and pull his belt free, discarding it before I unbutton his pants and lower the zipper. When I do, his straining cock springs free, and I can’t help but admire it. He’s bigger than Bobbi, who was the last person I was with. And that was before Bentley was born. I wonder if it will hurt. I’ve only used toys during the previous five years, and they’ve done the job well enough, but I know they haven’t prepared me for this man. Not with a sizeable cock like that.

“I don’t need you to please me. I told you, I’m here to taste and consume all of you, Posie.”

“Yes, but we take turns,” I say charmingly, looking at him in a way that most men can’t deny. “Do you not want me to touch you?” I whisper. I put my hands behind my back and lean forward to kiss the tip of his cock. He mumbles something under his breath, and I look up at him.

“No touching.” I throw his words back at him. The tendon in his neck looks like it’s about to snap. He must fucking hate me when I tell him what to do, but he permits me to touch him with one curt nod of his head.

Leaning forward again, I take his cock in my mouth and suck while swirling my tongue around the tip. He groans, and I move my head up and down, pleased at the sounds vibrating through him.

I keep eye contact because I know how much he needs that, and the intensity of it is staggering. Tears well in my eyes, but I continue taking him to the back of my throat. He speaks in Italian, and I’m sure it’s mostly curses. His arms and pecs flex as if reminding himself to keep his hands behind his back.

“Stop.” I’m surprised at the harsh demand, but I sit back on my heels. He steps out of his pants, now completely naked. “Stand.”

I try to hide the smile begging to bloom on my lips. Of course, this man can only give away control for a few minutes. But I do as he says, and I’m curious to see what else he might do to me.

When I’m on my feet, he circles me, his fingers sensually caressing my bare skin as if appraising me. As if wondering what to do with me.

“What do you want?” I ask when I can’t handle the tension anymore. I swallow hard when I get another glance at his massive cock.

“You,Mostriciattola.”

“Then why aren’t you taking me?”

I can sense his smirk as he comes to a stop behind me, and I’m surprised by the warm touch of his lips on the back of my neck. He trails kisses along my shoulders while one hand snakes around my stomach to pull me against his hard cock, causing it to poke against my asshole. He cups my breast and then squeezes, and I shudder at the stimulation of his aggressive hands and marking kisses. I’m not used to this type of attentiveness.

“Do you want me to stop?” he growls.

“I’ve been told I can’t use a certain word in this house,” I reply huskily.

His mood shifts as he comes around to face me. “Do I intimidate you?” he asks. I think about that question as I glance at his hand possessively gripping my hip. I can sense the moment he puts that ice wall between us. I don’t mind it because I’m so used to doing it myself with everyone else. But right now, it feels easier to speak truths than lies.

“Maybe a little,” I confess.

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