Page 32 of The Liar's Reckoning

Like last time, I’m producing enough drool for an army. Hollowing my cheeks, I suck him with quick, confident draws, having visualized this enough by now to seem like a pro. What I didn’t imagine however, was that I’d get the opportunity for a repeat performance. If he’s wanted this, he’s shown zero sign of it. With each taste of him—every sweep of my tongue along his slippery shaft—I grow hungrier.

My lips squeeze and slurp and pull, my teeth graze, and my head bobs a rapid pace.

“Slow down. Jesus, you’re gonna make me come,” he whispers urgently.

Isn’t that the point? I don’t ask, and I don’t slow down. If anything, I’m more determined. Taking him to the root, I choke on his dick, not letting up until tears are streaming down my face, and his load is pulsing down my throat. He’s got me by the neck, pulled flush against him, suffocating me. When I palm my dick, I explode in my pants, convulsing on my knees—coughingon his unforgiving cock. My vision tunnels, and I close my eyes, giving into the helplessness—the lightheaded ecstasy filling every cell in my body with pure, radiant bliss.

“Jesus,” I vaguely hear him mutter as he releases his hold on me.

I instinctively pull off to breathe. My hands on my knees, I duck my head, trying to get some of the blood to return to my brain. As it does, I notice the small stain that made it through my underwear to my sweats, high and slightly to the left of the center seam. Quickly, I pull my sweats down so no more seeps through.

My underwear looks like I shot an elephant load. Feels like I did.

Fuck.

Still panting, I glance up at him. He’s pulling up his pants and gazing down at me, uncertainty on his face. “You all right?”

“Yeah.”

I wipe at the remnants of saliva on my chin and pick up my sunglasses, but I don’t put them back on yet. He crouches down so we’re at nearly eye level. “You sure? Maybe I went a little too far…”

“No.” I regret nothing, even if my voice is hoarser than before he had his way with my throat. “How’d I do? Or are you gonna chalk the first time up to beginner’s luck?”

“I think you know how you did, Graham.”

I drop my gaze. “Tell me anyway.”

“Best head I’ve ever gotten in Central Park.”

I manage a laugh. “Good to know.”

“One of these days, maybe you’ll let me show you what it feels like.”

“What would I owe you for that?” I ask.

“Are you kidding?” He wipes my lower lip with his thumb. “I’d happily pay for the privilege.”

11

SILAS

Ican’t get the idea of sucking Graham off out of my head. I’m consumed by thoughts of what he’ll taste like—the sounds he’ll make. Is he the type to beg?

It’s not necessarily the vibe he gives off, but maybe with the right amount of teasing…

Fuck, this is why I can’t sleep. Because I remember how good he smells up close. The more I’ve interacted with him—meaning the more I’ve watched his body in motion doing planks, push-ups, crunches, whatever—the more I remember about the night he hired me to sow his wild gay oats and never look back. I came really hard that night, which was both thrilling and unexpected.

I figure I’m good enough in bed to turn a mediocre lay into a good lay, but notthatgood. That was chemistry, pure and simple, and I’m hyper-fixated on the memory.

I guess in theory it’s wrong to let a married man blow me in the park, but is he really married? Legally, maybe, but I don’t think there’s much in the way of commitment going on there. I’ve watched Avery and him come and go from the building in the evenings sometimes. They don’t hold hands, they aren’t affectionate—not that public displays are a measure of what happensbehind closed doors—but there’s not much there that I can see. Or maybe I’m only seeing what I want to see.

In my life, I’ve learned that what I don’t knowcanhurt me, so it’s best not to make assumptions. Still, he got on his knees awfully fast for someone all torn up about whether or not to cheat on his lovely wife.

I think it’s exactly what he claimed it is—a marriage of convenience. It’s amazing shit like that still happens, but as politics are about as close as this country comes to any kind of class system, he probably does need to keep up appearances.

In my spare time on night shifts, I’ve looked into his family. They run a media conglomerate that espouses right-wing, conservative, and very “Christian” values. They’ve got podcasts and radio stations, a cable TV network, and newspapers all across the country feeding their narrow view of the world to consumers. It’s no wonder Graham is tucked so deep in the closet. It makes me wonder if anyone besides me and his wife knows about him.

That’s why I asked if he has any friends. Is it hard for him to live a lie? He doesn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, he’s more stressed out about being a senator than he is about repressing his sexuality. I would have chalked it up to him not being a terribly sexual person except for the way he’s nearly constantly hard and ready to choke down my cock at a moment’s notice.

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