Page 44 of Promiscuous Lies

“You hide it well,” he says, then spins me to face him. He picks me up, and my legs automatically wrap around his waist. When he walks me up the stairs, I notice a lounge area with a large black couch and a TV mounted on the wall. He’s staringat me, and it’s hard not to stare back at him. Words unsaid. Intensities matched. A fire that I want him to put out between my legs, but I’m positive it’ll only create an insatiable craving instead.

I would never admit it, but I like the way he carries me. It makes me feel small, almost protected, something I haven’t felt in a long time. Instead of a mother or a stripper, I’m simply a woman being carried in a man’s arms. Not just any man’s arms either.

I lean back and meet his gaze. “DoIintimidateyou?”

He turns left and strides into a dimly lit room, which I’m assuming is his bedroom. When he lowers me, my ass lands on something soft, and I realize it’s his bed. He doesn’t bother turning on a light as he reaches into the drawer and pulls out a condom. I almost think he’s not going to reply to my question as I watch him rip it open with his teeth and then slide it on. When it’s in place, he looks back at me.

“More than you could ever understand.”

My eyebrows raise, but before I can digest that, he’s on me, kicking my legs apart and positioning himself between them. He doesn’t immediately push inside. No, instead, his mouth finds my nipples, and he does as he told me he was going to do—he tastes me. Biting my nipples before he sucks his way down to my belly and back again. Each time he gets to my neck, I reach my hands behind him and try to pull him closer. It’s a game of teasing, and he’s an expert at it. The pounding of desire is a living, breathing, feral creature beneath my skin, and if I don’t have him soon, I may just claw his fucking eyes out.

“Dutton,” I growl, irritated by his purposeful teasing.

“Yes, Posie?” he answers, and although I can’t see him clearly, I know he’s intentionally fucking with me.

“Fuck me already,” I grit.

He chuckles. And it’s the rawest version I’ve seen of this man. Not the monster beneath the mask. Not the boss. Not the perfect businessman. Simply Dutton.

“As you command,” he says, and his mouth comes back to mine. He still hasn’t kissed me fully. Yes, his mouth has tasted my lips and my skin, but his tongue has never tasted mine. So when our lips meet, I open my mouth in invitation, and he slides his tongue inside. And as he does that, his cock finds precisely where it needs to be and slams straight into me. I gasp, but he doesn’t stop kissing me, doesn’t pull away, as if needing to devour my every hitched breath.

I focus only on him as I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him deeper into me as if he’s my only anchor to this moment as I relax around the size of him.

His hips start moving, and I drag my very sharp nails down his back. He grunts and begins to fuck me harder with each thrust and kiss. The shadow of his beard tickles me as he ravages me, and I don’t know where he begins, and I end as I match him thrust for thrust, the loud slapping of our skin echoing through the room.

I moan and wince under the pain and pleasure. His hand comes up to my throat as if keeping me in place while he hits that spot inside me over and over again. I can barely squirm beneath him, brought to new heights every time he slams into me.

I squeak—an unusual sound for me to make—as I greedily try to cling to him as he constricts my airflow.This fucking man.

The pressure begins to build, and I whimper, so close to climax.

Oh fuck.

How is this possible?

“Dutton,” I whimper, almost scared of what this climax will rip out of me. It’s been so long. My body is in overdrive, and tingles rise along my legs as I cling to him for dear life.

“Scream for me,Mostriciattola.” He grunts.

I grip his hair and pull, but it does nothing to deter him from taking my lips as he completely cuts off my air. A moment of panic strikes me but mixes with the high of teetering on the edge.

I yank my face to the side, a breathless moan passing through me as the pressure builds. His mouth then shifts to work on my neck; his cock keeps pounding into me, and his hand slides down where his fingers circle my clit.

How can he…?

Oh my God.

What in the ever-fucking hell is he doing with his hands and his cock?

“See what a good girl you are?” he croons, and I nod my head, unable to do anything else.

He leans back and pulls me to the end of the bed by my knees. He’s now standing, looking down at me as he fucks me, releasing his grip on my throat ever so slightly so I can gulp for air. But it’s not enough. Not enough oxygen in the world will save me from drowning in the sea of pure bliss I’m experiencing right now. I grip the sheets, unable to stop what’s happening.

No one I’ve ever fucked before comes close to Dutton.

No one.

And I’m afraid he’s ruined me for this life and the next. When I come, I see stars. And I mean, I come so hard that when I open my eyes, even in this dark room, bright pinpricks of light flash in my vision.

---