Page 42 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

“Yes. Please…more,” I whimper as I start to rock my hips, needing something to help relieve this ache. He grips the fabric of my t-shirt between two fingers.

“Take this off,” he commands, and I reach down, pulling it over my head. Archer runs his hands up my sides to just underneath my breasts, leaving a trail of goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“So fucking perfect,” he says right before he leans forward, sucking on my nipple, using his teeth to rake across the hardened nub, sending shooting bursts of pleasure straight to my clit.

Flipping me onto my back, he kisses a path down my belly until he reaches the waistband of my pants.

I lift my hips, allowing him to drag them down my legs, leaving me in only a pair of plain cotton panties. With the way he looks at me, you would think it was expensive lingerie.

“You still bleeding?” he asks in that deep gravelly voice, and I nod, my cheeks heating. His gaze drops down to between my legs, and he bites down on his full bottom lip. My God, if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“You have one of those things in?” he asks, eyes flicking back up to meet mine.

I’m assuming he’s talking about the discs he bought me. They say you can have mess free sex with one in—not that I would know. There is no way my ex would ever have considered doing anything like that. But the heated look in Archer’s eyes, however, lets me know he has no such hang-ups.

“Yes.” My voice comes out husky.

“Can I?” he asks, fingers hooking on either side of my underwear, making his intentions clear. After waiting for my consent, he slowly slides them down my body before crawling back up, positioning his face between my legs.

“Wait,” I say, and to his credit, he stops immediately, looking up from between my thighs with hazy, lust-filled eyes. “I just…never—no one’s ever.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Do you mean no one has ever gone down on you before?” he asks in disbelief, and I shake my head.

“So I get to be the first man to taste this perfect pussy,” he says before running his warm tongue up my center. My back bows off the bed. “Mmmm…fucking delicious,” he breathes against my sensitized flesh before bringing his mouth back to my center, his tongue circling my clit.

“Oh God!” I cry out, and he looks up at me, grinning like the devil himself, mouth glossy with my arousal.

“Not quite, but I bet I’ll make you see him before I’m done with you.”

He dives back in, licking and sucking until I’m panting, bucking against his face. The pleasure is so intense, I’m not sure I can take anymore. My orgasm builds quickly, but even though I’m right on the edge, I just can’t seem to get there.

As if he can sense I need something more, Archer’s hand reaches up, pinching one of my nipples hard, and I shatter.

“Archer,” I call out his name as I come, back lifting off the bed as wave after wave crashes over me until I’m spent and boneless on the bed.

He crawls back up over my body, kissing me sweetly, and I can taste myself on his lips. He wraps me in his arms and instinctively, my body curls into his, my head resting over the only blank patch of skin on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulling me to sleep.

“Why did you leave this spot empty?” I ask, pointing to it. He gives me a look I can’t interpret.

“It’s the space closest to my heart. I suppose…I’ve never had anything important enough to me to put there.”

“Mmm… Well, I hope one day you do,” I reply sleepily.

I’m so tired, but I try to fight it, not wanting to waste this moment with him, but my eyes refuse to cooperate.

Just before I drift off, I swear I hear him say, “I think I already have.”

16

Archer

After that first night when Maggie fell asleep in my arms, the next few days pass by far too quickly.

As if sensing the urgency, the ticking down of the clock to when this all comes crashing down, we spend every moment together, barely even leaving the room, taking turns exploring each other’s bodies.

We take breaks to eat or shower together—where she surprises me by dropping to her knees and trying to suck out my soul through my cock—but most of our time is spent talking and getting to know each other on a deeper level.

She tells me about Jane and how she got sick, how scared she felt, how afraid she is every time she relapses, fearing it will progressively get worse. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been on her to take on the role of caregiver at such a young age, but my Rose is strong and has the most generous heart of anyone I know.

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