Page 21 of Liar's Heart
A smile breaks free on my face, and I bend down and kiss her thoroughly while she recovers from her orgasm. Slowly, her kisses move from languid to heated again, and her hips begin to wriggle. I pull back and examine her face, combing loose, damp strands of hair away with my fingers. She’s all kiss-bitten lips and half-lidded eyes, a woman made for salacious pleasure. “You’re going to take my cock now, okay?” I murmur. “Just like you begged for.”
She nods her assent, no hesitation in sight, but it’s not good enough. I want everything from her. Everything this woman is willing to give me and everything she’s not. I start with “Use your words, vixen. Tell me you want your husband to fuck his cum into the pussy he just made feel so good.”
She licks her lips, and the fire in her eyes burns brighter. Letting her knees fall open, the little brat has the audacity to smirk at me as she says, “Like you're not dying to fuck me too.”
I love this game we play.
She yelps when my open palm connects with her tender cunt, the smack catching her off guard. “Wrong answer. Want to try again?”
Before she has a chance to retort, I plunge a single finger into her wet heat, and the impudent words on the tip of her tongue morph into the most delicious inhale as I slowly drag the digit in and out. Her eyes close, and her head hits the pillows as she tries to sink into the feeling, but I’m careful to make sure I’m not doing anything other than tormenting her. The moment her hips begin to move, I freeze. “I’m waiting.”
Lifting her head to look at me, Merrick lets out a resigned sigh. “I want you to fuck me.”
Unacceptable. I lift an eyebrow. Her eyes narrow, then round in feigned innocence. “Will you please fuck me?” she whines in an overly saccharine voice.
Better. Still impudent but better. “Who do you want to fuck you?”
She drops the guise when she realizes what I want. What I need to hear her say. Quietly, sincerely, she says, “You, Ender. I want you.”
My heart’s pounding in my throat, but I manage to choke out the words, “And who am I to you?”
Her eyes search mine, and I know she’s thinking of all the different ways she could answer that question. Of what my family’s taken from her… of whatI’vetaken from her. It doesn’t matter what efforts I’ve put into reforming myself, I’m still a villain in Merrick’s story.
I still killed Ox.
As badly as I want to confess my every sin to her, to lay my heart at her feet and let her pass whatever judgment she deems worthy, I can’t. Not yet, at least. I’ll make sure there are no more secrets between us one day, but I need to know I have her first. All of her.
Maybe I should give a fuck about keeping those secretsfrom her, but I don't. Our world doesn’t exist in black and white. It’s murky shades of gray at best. Eventually, you have to pick between your soul and your survival. They make sure of it. I’ve made choices before that have broken me, compromises I regret. But if my bloodstained soul is what’s allowed me to cheat, steal, and lie my way to this moment with her, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. She’s worth every damning mark against me.
She takes my face in both of her hands, pulling our faces close. “My husband,” she says. “I want my husband, Ender.”
I’ve made absolutely no attempt to downplay my possessive nature with this woman. I couldn't even if I tried. Merrick is mine, and I won't be satisfied until my claim is indelibly marked on every piece of her—mind, body, and soul. But I needed to know she claimed me back before this next step. I needed to know she understood that this is the only binding that matters to me, more sacred than any ritual with masks or blood. I’m not content only being her spouse on paper. I need to be her husband in every possible way.
Cupping her face in one hand, I gently stroke her cheek with my thumb and tell her, “Good. Because I want my wife too.”
I don’t know which one of us initiates the kiss that follows, or who deepens it. But I know I’m the one who breaks it so I can watch my wife’s face as I line myself up with her entrance and slowly sink into her for the first time. Her jaw slackens, and her brow furrows as she takes me into her body, stretching around me inch by inch. I only stop when I can go no further, when I have nothing left to give her, and she has nothing left for me to take. We stay joined like that, overwhelmed and panting and drowning in need, for ages, for lifetimes, until her brow smooths out and her tight little cunt slowly relaxes around me. I reach for her face, stroking her hair back and caressing her cheek while I whisper, “Look at you. You're so fucking beautiful.”
Tears well in her eyes, but I don't feel her close herself off to me. I half expected her to. My wife doesn't handle her own vulnerability well. In the wake of her loss, she decided the best way to survive was to carve her heart out and pretend she never had one. Illusory hearts can’t break, after all.
I understand why she’s so closed off and cold, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do everything I can to chip away at her walls. She can ice everyone else out, but not me. I’m going to love her until I break her, and then I’ll piece the fragments of our souls back together into something new. Something amalgamated and annealed.
Grabbing the back of my neck, she pulls me down until my lips crash into hers. The kiss grows in intensity as she licks into my mouth, creating shivers I feel all the way through me. Her hips push up into me, trying to grind against me, but I’ve got her pinned too tightly to the mattress for her to find any meaningful friction. I break our kiss, lifting up and hooking one of her thighs into the crook of my elbow. Her hips cant upward, and I sink impossibly deeper into the tight squeeze of her cunt.
I roll my hips forward and watch as Merrick’s eyes go hazy at the sensation, only to be rewarded with the sweetest little mewls when I begin moving inside her. Our bodies find their rhythm as we learn this new dance together, one that exists only between the two of us. Keeping my pubic bone nestled tight against her clit, I grind my cock into her, focusing on the movements she responds to the most.
She spears her fingers through my hair again as I slide down to her neck, my lips landing on the scar I left there. The sight of her marital scar alone is enough to make my blood run hot, but the feeling of the raised line under my mouth while her pussy strangles my dick is enough to drive me to madness.
Our bodies demand more, and we eagerly comply, nolonger able to go slow. I fuck her harder, chasing oblivion when she gasps. “Oh fuck.”
The walls of her pussy begin fluttering around me, her next climax quickly coming into focus. I release the skin on her neck I've been sucking a new mark into and pant into her ear. “That's it, baby. Come on my cock. Mark me as yours.”
She moans at my words before obeying them, crying out my name as she does. The walls of her pussy clamp down on my cock so hard I’m seeing stars as I fuck her through her release. Then I follow her and make good on my word, marking her deep in a way I've never granted anyone else before.
Finally sated, I carefully untangle our limbs before sitting back on my heels to take in the sight of my cum leaking out of my wife's well-fucked pussy. I run my fingers through our mutual release, dipping into the red, dripping hole before bringing them up to her lips with instructions to suck. She parts her lips like an obedient little wife and takes me—takesus—into her mouth. A low groan escapes me when her tongue swirls around the digits, cleaning them of every last trace of sacrament.
I retract my fingers to claim her mouth in a soul-searing kiss. Parting just enough to pant the words, I say, “Now you taste like you're mine.” And then I fuse my mouth to hers again.
We let ourselves exist in our own little world for the rest of the day, only disturbing it long enough to sneak trays of food into our room from the hallway. We nap, eat, and fuck like lazy lions on the savanna. It’s glorious.
