Page 187 of A Smile Full of Lies
The hoodie hit the floor. Then the shirt. Then the belt and jeans, until he stood in nothing but his wedding ring and the feral look on his face.
“Undress for me,” he said.
I didn’t even hesitate.
The dress came off in one motion. No lingerie underneath. No barriers. Just skin and hunger and the weight of everything we’d been through.
He dropped to his knees in front of me, pressed his mouth to the inside of my thigh, and said, “Thank you for finding me. Thank you for setting me free.”
I whispered.
“What do you mean?”
He kissed higher.
“I would’ve lived and died in that mask if you hadn’t written that book.”
His tongue dragged against my skin in a long, slow, teasing lick up the inside of my thigh.
“You gave me back my name. My family’s story.”
He looked up.
“You made merealagain after years of feeling nothing but hollow.”
Then he devoured me.
Tongue, lips, fingers —fury.Every lick was a vow. Every suck a confession. My back arched, hands fisting the sheets, hips grinding into his mouth like I was trying to fuse with him.
I was shaking in minutes.
“Knox—” I gasped. “I’m gonna?—”
He pulled back just enough to say, “Not yet.”
I whined in protest.
He climbed up my body, kissed my throat, bit my shoulder. Then slid his cock inside me with one long, brutal thrust.
I screamed.
He didn’t move. Just stayed there. Buried deep. Arms braced on either side of my head, forehead resting against mine.
“This pussy’s mine,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“You take me so fucking well, baby. You were made for this. Made forme.”
He started to move. Slow. Deep. Devastating.
“You think they get it now?” he rasped. “That I’d let the worldburnbefore I let anyone else have you?”
I cried out.
“You think they understand what it means when I say you’re my fuckingwife?”
He fucked me harder.
