Page 55 of The Liar's Reckoning

“Fuck me,” he says again. “Fuck me.”

I’m shuddering—overloaded. His channel tightens around me as my chest meets his back. Our thighs are touching, and I don’t want to sacrifice an inch. But I don’t have to.Hefucksme.

Clever tilts of his hips create the tightest friction imaginable. I run my hands up his back and stare down at my dickdisappearing and half reappearing. His glutes clench powerfully, making a moaning, sweating disaster of me. Trusting that I’m not going anywhere, he finally lets go of me and braces his elbows on the island, his head bent as his ass abuses my cock with what has to be every trick in the book.

I let my hands rest on his waist and hang on for the ride, too lost in how good it is to try and get creative. He obviously knows exactly what he wants, and honestly, there’s no room for improvement.

He’s so fucking sexy like this. I can’t stop staring at the arch and bend in his lower back as he works his ass around my cock. He’s glowing—every muscle glinting in the ever brightening light. “Hold me,” he demands.

Wrapping my arms around his body, I bend over him, pressing my mouth to his neck and kissing him there.

“Yes,” he moans. “Yes. Fuck, yes. You feel so good.”

Something clicks, and I finally begin to understand how to have sex with him. Granted, it doesn’t take much, he’s clearly running the show, but I manage to find his rhythm. My hips roll with his. My hands explore his chest, his pecs and nipples. And then, I slide a hand over his abs and grasp his dick.

He makes a choked, tortured sound and throws his head back. “Fuck yes.” Sweaty strands stick to his forehead, and I bite at his jaw.

Our pace quickens. The clap of flesh on flesh echoes through the otherwise empty apartment, mingled with our heavy breaths and his occasional grunts of exertion.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” he breathes, dropping his head again and slamming his hips back into mine. “So fucking good. So fucking good.”

I don’t know if it’s the praise, the relentless pressure on my cock, or the fact that he twists toward me again with wet, parted lips. My mouth meets his automatically, and the sudden slide of his tongue into my mouth pushes me over the edge. Pressureexplodes in my groin, and I’m coming. It’s blinding—end of the world—a total loss of control as my muscles go utterly rigid and my cock spasms in his tight, clenching ass, unloading what feels like thirty years’ worth of cum.

There’s a sound, too—one I’m relatively sure is coming from me—that sounds far more animal than man.

He squirms, hole tightening even more. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh shit…”

On my hand’s next stroke up Silas’s cock, he soaks me. My roar turns to a whimper at the feel of his spend slicking down his shaft. His dick throbs, and his groans come out as choked sobs.

When there’s nothing left inside either of us, I wrap myself around him, pressing my forehead to the nape of his neck while I try to collect my breath. His head rests on his folded arms, and after several, long moments, his ass unclenches. I back out of him, and he winces.

A sudden, sharp melancholy appears out of nowhere, arising from the aftermath of bliss.Now what?

He straightens up, running his hands through his sweat-soaked hair as he turns to face me. I busy myself trying to deal with the condom. I’m not exactly experienced in how to manage them.

He notices, steps forward, and slides it off my softening dick. Before tying it off, he holds it up and examines it. “Damn,” he mutters before tying the open end into a knot and asking where the trash is.

“There’s a bathroom in the bedroom,” I say, but it sounds like my voice is coming from another apartment. My ears are still ringing from the orgasm.

He approaches the bedroom door. Before he opens it, he looks back at me as I stand there stupidly, naked. “You coming?”

Oh.

I pick up my clothes and his, not exactly loving how he cansee every flaw on my body in the bright light. At least with a handful of clothes, I manage a shred of dignity.

The bedroom is just as bright—if not brighter. The white bed is practically blinding, and even though one of the walls is exposed brick, the others are as stark white as the linens. While Silas is in the bathroom, I slide on my boxer briefs and scratch at my exposed skin. With no clue what to do with myself, I sit on the edge of the bed.

He emerges, still gloriously nude, and walks over to stand in front of me, putting me nearly at eye level with his perfect dick. It’s soft, but that doesn’t disguise how long and thick it is. His thighs also draw my gaze, the ideal amount of curved and toned. Hairless and tan. The only hair on his body, in fact, seems to be the trail that travels from his navel to his cock.

“You don’t look happy,” he says.

“I don’t know what I am,” I admit.

He slides his knees onto the bed on either side of me, moving to sit on my lap. He messes with my hair, running his fingers through it this way and that. Finally satisfied, he scrapes the fingernails of both hands lightly down my cheeks, causing chills to erupt on my skin.

“You made me kiss you,” he says.

“Did I?”

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