Page 65 of Promiscuous Lies

“Yes. Why am I here, Dutton? My son is very important to me, and introducing him to strange people willy-nilly isn’t okay.”

His eyebrows furrow. “My family aren’t ‘strange people,’ and I wanted to introduce you to them.”

“Why?” I urge.

“You confuse the ever-loving fuck out of me. I could ask you the same thing. Why do you leave every morning before I wake up?”

I’m baffled. Is he really upset about that? I thought that’s what men preferred. No strings attached or awkward mornings. “We only agreed to fuck, not tell each other our life stories.” I give him my best eye roll and then look away to find Bentley again. He now has an ice cream cone in his hand, and Dawson hands him a napkin.

“Are you ever going to tell me who his father is?”

I sigh, irritated that he’s pressing me all of a sudden when he won’t answer my fucking questions. “He’s dead for all I care.”

“So heisdead, or you wish he were?” he pushes.

“Why are you asking so many questions but won’t answer mine?” I stare at him.

He reaches for my wrist, but I pull away. His eye twitches as he nods toward a corner of the room. It looks to be a private bathroom. “You clearly need to be punished.”

“You can’t be serious right now. Here?” I whisper-shout.

“Your son is safe with my father. Do you really think I’d bring you to a place where you or your son aren’t protected?”

I want to argue with him and tell him I never asked for his protection, but the urgency in his gaze has me stepping toward the bathroom. As we approach, a woman exits. After waiting until no one is paying us any attention, I enter, and Dutton slipsin behind me. A light automatically turns on, and he locks the door behind us. It’s a powder room with two toilet stalls.

When I turn around to berate him, his lips crash into mine. My brain fries as I try to register what’s happening. He already has my hands behind my back, locked in a tight grip.

My body melts against him, all of my frustration rising to the surface.

“Why are you here?” he growls, pushing me against the counter. My arms begin to ache, but I appreciate the burn as I try to break free of his grasp.

I bite down on his lip as I viciously say, “Because you invited me.”

“You could have said no. It’s not like you don’t know how to use that word.” He’s kissing along my jaw and down my neck. My hips begin rolling of their own accord.

“I did say no,” I reply breathlessly, arching into him.

He releases his grip around my wrists, then orders, “Hands on the counter, and they don’t move.” I do as he says because he immediately rewards me by putting his hand up my dress. He wastes no time pushing my panties to the side and pinching my clit.

Fuck. He’s mad.

“You can’t demand answers when you’re not willing to hand them over yourself. Do we understand each other?” he declares. His intense blue gaze has darkened with lust, and I flick a glance at his pants, where his cock is straining against the material. I lick my lips, wanting more than just his hand on my pussy.

“Are you going to put that to good use?” I ask, pointedly staring at his cock. He squeezes my cheeks and angles my head to look up at him.

“This is a punishment, not a reward,” he chastises.

“Seems like punishment for you, too,” I bite back.

A tic jumps in his jaw. “You’ll beg for this cock like a good girl,Mostriciattola.”

I moan as he shoves against me, and I can feel his cock poking into my stomach. “To answer your question, I can’t get enough of your sharp tongue or this cunt of yours. You can label it whatever the fuck helps you sleep at night, but let me assure you, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

I fucking hate him as much as I crave him.

“Do you understand?” he growls. “And don’t you dare fucking say no.”

He brings his face close to mine, inhaling me. My gaze jumps from his lips to his eyes, like I’m desperate for him. My appetite for him grows and grows.

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