Page 98 of The Liar's Reckoning

The camera turns while I squeeze my cock firmly, milking my orgasm for all it’s worth.

“Fucking coming so hard for you, puppy. Look…”

His ejaculate shoots out, the image blurring as some of it hits the camera lens.

“Fuck…” he groans. “Fuck that feels so goddamn good…Gonna feel so much better inside you.”

His ability to talk while he’s coming is a product of his third job, I’m certain. A mark of his high dollar sexual skills. And I won’t lie—it’s an extreme turn on—the discipline it has to take, the prowess.

“God, yes…yes…” he goes on as the camera shakes in his grip, although I can barely see anything anymore. The need to stuff my ass with my fingers is so strong, I almost do it. But he can still see me just fine, and if I do it, I’m afraid he won’t fuck me like I need him to the next time I see him, which is still a week away.

The only thing that could shatter this perfect bliss is the incoming call lighting up the top of my screen.Avery.

Goddamnit.

After a brief internal battle which is decided by telling myself I’ll call her right back, I swipe the notification away with a wet finger. “I have to go,” I tell him. “You got cum on the lens.”

“Oh, shit.” He laughs. After a few dark moments, I see his face again, flushed, glowing and sated. “Told you it was a good one.”

“You have the plug in?” I gave him a plug that thumps instead of vibrates.

“Of course. Jealous?”

“Of the plug or the fact that you’re allowed to stuff your ass while I’m gone?”

“I think you like celibacy. Makes you feel morally superior.”

I shake my head with a short laugh. “Shut up.”

He kisses the screen. “I’ll let you go. I’ve gotta get to work, too.”

“Which work?”

“Doorman work,” he says.

Good. I don’t need to be thinking about him having sex withsomeone tonight. Not afterthat. Being with a sex worker requires a certain relationship skill set that I’d consider advanced for a newbie like me. The jealousy is intense, but it lacks resentment. I knew who he was from the moment I met him.

And I know he needs the money. Hell, sometimes I’m jealous of how much he makes doing it. I could use cashflow like that, too.

“Call me in the morning before you go to work,” he tells me.

“Call you like this?”

“Whatever you’re in the mood for,” he says.

“I love you,” I tell him.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Jesus. Did I just blurt that out? Now? After masturbating in the fucking shower when he’s hundreds of miles away? On the damn phone?

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“No. I’m not sure I heard you right.”

“Yeah, you probably didn’t. We should revisit this when I’m back in town.”

“I don’t think so, Senator. What did you say again?”

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