Page 45 of Liar's Heart
Ender straightens, toying with the hem of my shirt. “Keep your hands on the table and your eyes on me, baby.”
“Yes, sir.” The words come out breathless, but with a warm hum from my husband, I know they please him all the same.
He lifts my shirt, sliding it up to expose my bra. Hooking his fingers into the band, he lifts it up and over my breasts, pushing it up to join the shirt. Warm, calloused fingers trace their way down my sternum, making me tremble. I watch my nipples peak as he descends. He’s just about to reach the waistband of my leggings when he reverses his path, pulling back when he’s even with my breasts, only to grab one of my nipples in between his thumb and index finger. I inhale sharply, expecting the sweet bite of pain, but it doesn’t come. Instead, his other hand lifts my chin as he reminds me, “I said to keep your eyes on me.”
Before my brain catches up with my mouth, I say, “Technically, my eyes were on y— Oh!”
He cuts me off with a cruel pinch. Shaking his head, he tuts at me. “What have I told you about that mouth? If you can't make it behave, I'll have to punish it.”
I don't think he's sad about his childhood anymore.
“Sorry, sir.”
He hums. “That's better.” He gently rolls the trapped tip between his fingers, plucking and teasing while I try not to squirm. The other side gets the same treatment until I’m panting hard enough my heaving chest is aiding him in his torture, and I'm forcibly stopping myself from writhing. Then he lowers his head and wraps his warm mouth around the puckered skin to nip and nibble at it. I swear every single stroke of his tongue makes my pussy wetter, but it’s his teeth that make me gasp and shake.
By the time he mercifully lets my breast go, tears are threatening to spill from the overwhelming pleasure. His fingers dig into the waistband of my leggings and start working them down, pausing to help steady me when I lift my hips so he can keep going. Then he pushes them all the way down to my ankles in one swift movement. I’m about to ask if he wants me to take my boots off when he drops to his knees and ducks under a leg so my bound ankles are on his back and he's face level with my pussy. One hand wraps around my thigh for stability, the other spreads me open, and then he gives me a slow, firm lick from my entrance to my clit. He moans into my cunt, his eyes closed in ecstasy, as he swears, “Fuck. You're still full of me, baby. It's been hours, and I can still taste the last time I marked this sweet cunt.”
He dives back in, giving my clit a handful of strokes before moving lower and corkscrewing his tongue inside of me like he’s trying to lick the last drops out of the holy grail itself. “I fucking love the way my cum tastes in your pussy. Goddamn.”
Goddamn indeed. The sight of him on his knees, the ground littered with spent bullet casings, while he devours me is one I'll remember for the rest of my life. Fuck princess treatment. I'm pretty sure this is the upgrade to queen because his shoulders make a damn good throne.
Ender feasts on me until my thighs are shaking so hard I've got to be rattling his teeth. I'm so close,so close, and I've lost all composure. I'm reduced to nothing but sensation, tomoreandright thereandyes, please, yes. I'm about to let go of the goddamn counter so I can use his hair like reins and ride his face to paradise when he disconnects, pulling away from me and wrapping both arms around my thighs, anticipating my reaction.
It takes a moment for my body and brain to communicate what's happened to each other. A moment of stunned loss before the throbbing in my clit takes over, and I damn near wail while begging for him to keep going. He holds me still, looking up at me from between my thighs. His beautiful mouth is glossy and wet with me, and it's slowly curling into that lupine smile I know so well.
All the better to eat me with.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he cruelly soothes. “That wasn't for you. That was for me. I needed to get this hole nice and wet and ready to be fucked.” He comforts me while tears prick the backs of my eyes, and my body rages against his mistreatment. Instinct tells me to thrash, to break his grip and soothe my aching clit myself, but I fight through it and will myself to stillness.
Ender ducks out from between my legs, standing up next to me to help me down from the counter. I land on unsteady feet but catch myself easily enough. My leggings are still around my ankles, and that's not helping the shakiness of my thighs. Ender grabs my hips and turns me to face the table while he moves behind me. His hands slide up my back, and I'm abruptly bent over the counter, bare breasts connectingwith cold metal. The sound of a zipper being undone overtakes the sound of my panting. Then the head of his cock slowly prods between my legs, running through my slickness once, twice, before he lines himself up and buries that thick cock deep inside.
The wail I let out is all the encouragement he needs to wrap my braided hair around his fist and fuck me like an animal. My feet don't quite fully connect with the ground, leaving me to scramble for purchase with the toes of my boots as I seek out the angle that'll have me seeing stars. I find it, letting a low moan loose as he rubs the inside of my cunt exactly how I need it.
My hips slam into the edge of the metal counter with every merciless thrust, the bones there already threatening to bruise. It hurts, but the pain is in such delicious contrast to the way his dick is stroking my G-spot. It makes me feel used, like my only purpose is to serve him as a hole for fucking… like my comfort is so far beneath his satisfaction that knowing I’m suffering for him gets us both off more than the sex does. And nothing makes me feel more beautiful than when he treats me like this, my husband’s perfect whore.
I'm a moaning mess, incapable of actual words as I climb higher. Even Ender's given up on his usual dirty talk, only managing to grit outfuckandyesandjust like that. The orgasm takes me hard and fast, going from a building need to an onslaught so quickly it gives me whiplash. I call my husband's name, fingers clawing at the countertop, seeking anything to anchor me while I shatter around him.
My release triggers his, and he pours himself into me as he fucks us through the descent. We slowly float back down into our bodies together, maintaining our connection for as long as we can while we catch our breath. Ender pulls out, and I hear the shuffling of fabric followed by a zipper as he rights himself. Then he helps me down, standing me upright and pulling my bra and shirt back into place. He bends to work onmy leggings but pauses when his face is level with my pussy. I watch as he kisses me there one last time, tongue snaking out to lick through what he can reach of my folds. A satisfied hum rumbles out of him, my knees shaking. My husband redresses me while I stand there in a blissful haze. His hands circle my waist, his mouth bussing my neck before he speaks. “It's your turn to shoot, baby.”
“I swear to god,if I don't see another pastoral oil painting ever again, it will be too soon,” Len blurts out as soon as her office door closes behind her.
I bark out a laugh. “Considering our business? I have some bad news, babe.”
Len shakes her head, her blonde waves swinging out around her. “We can put our foot down, make it a new policy. No more idyllic depictions of poverty for the rich. It's gross.”
I cock a brow at my best friend. “Youarethe rich.”
“Yeah, but I'm like, self-aware and shit.” She glares at me.
Kicking off my heels, I motion for her to unzip my dress for me. She walks over and frees me from the polyester prison disguised as a sheath dress, and I begin to change into the leggings and black sweater I packed and stashed in here this morning. “Look, whether you think it's gross or not, you and I both know we just made our biggest sale of the quarter today, so I think instead of getting bent out of shape over some old lady’s love of landscapes, I'm going to take her money to the bank and forget about it.”
I shove the dress in my duffel bag and step back into my heels. Len grumbles under her breath, and I choose to ignoreher. “Look. You won't have to deal with Mrs. Arnoult for another year now. I'm the one she contacts anyway. So it's probably best to just let it go so we can focus on tonight.”
She looks up at me, watching me gather my purse, phone, and keys to join the duffel. “Be there by four thirty, right?”
“Yeah. Or whenever. Ender picked Roman up from the airport earlier, so they'll be around. I'll be home as soon as my appointment is done, but it should be by then.”
Len's pursed lips shift from side to side while she thinks, then she releases them with a little pop. “Think I'm gonna go for a ride. I need to clear my head before being subjected to those two for the rest of the night.”
