Page 19 of King of Lies
“I’ll do right by you.”
“I know.”
He presses his mouth to mine in a promise, then kisses his way down my body paying close attention to my breasts, the curve of my belly, and then down further before sitting back on his heels between my thighs. He grabs the waistband of my leggings and my panties with them and drags them down my legs.
I try to push them closed but he stops me. “No, Hen. Let me see all of you.”
Then he parts me with his thumbs and leans forward, swiping his tongue through me. He swirls the tip of his tongue over my clit and I gasp. My legs try to close of their own volition. The way that he licks me, tastes me, is so raw and intimate that I wish I could hide under the pillows but at the same time I know that I’ll die if he stops.
“Rhys,” I gasp but he doesn’t stop his sensual torture, whipping me into a fever frenzy.
I try to ground myself to the here and now, twisting my fingers into the blankets, but it’s no use when he covers me with his mouth and sucks my clit hard. He slides two fingers into me and pumps them, curling to touch something inside that has me barely holding on, then spreading to stretch me open.
When he curls his fingers again and hits that spot just inside, I shatter. If this is what all the fuss is about, then I get it now. My breath saws in and out of my lungs and my body shakes as Rhys sits back on his heels and rolls a condom down his hard length before covering my body with his. I feel the broad head of him at my center and I start to tense up knowing what’s coming. He presses his thumb to my clit making me spasm all over again.
“I’m sorry, Hen,” he says and it’s like the words are torn from his lips before he crushes his mouth to mine and then drives his thick shaft into me, swallowing my scream. It feels like he’s shredded something inside me, like he’s ripping me in two. “I’m so sorry.”
And then he circles his thumb around my clit, and I feel myself relax, soften, even though I feel absolutely full of him. As his touch heats me up, he kisses my eyes, the corner of my mouth, my cheek, my brow. I arch my hips against his as a climax builds in me again, a flood of moisture between us.
“Rhys,” I pant, and he starts to slowly move his hips, pumping gently inside of me.
“That’s it, Hen.”
I wrap my arms around him, and he kisses me gently, licking into my mouth, moving his body over mine—in mine—showing me how good it can be as we come together. As the waves of passion begin to crest over me, I wrap my arms around him and hold on.
“Rhys,” I pant again.
“That’s it,” he coaxes. “Let go for me.”
And I feel my whole body bow and tense as I shatter again, this time around him.
Rhys drives into me again and again, my own climax holding him so tight it feels like he’s barely moving. When he plants himself deep, I watch as his face changes from fierce to awed as he comes.
He drops his head to mine and wraps his arms around me, holding me. Before he drops a soft kiss to my lips, he says, “I’ll never be the same, Hen.”
As he pulls out and lets me go, climbing from my bed and stalking to the bathroom completely naked and totally confident, I can’t help but feel like he was right but he was also wrong because after that experience, it’s me who will never be the same again.
He comes back moments later without the condom but carrying a wet washcloth. I feel my face heat as he pushes my legs back open so that he can tend to me.
“Does it hurt much?” he asks in that deep voice that I love so much I can’t help but tell him the truth.
“Not anymore.”
“Good,” he says before placing a tender kiss to the inside of my thigh and then walking back into the bathroom.
When he comes back, he curls into me on the bed, his front to my back, and pulls the covers out from under me and over us. He holds me tight and I feel safe and cared for and most importantly, I no longer feel alone.
“Sleep, Hen,” he says and that’s that. I curl into him and drift off to sleep but only for a little while.
Chapter 7
Starved
Igasp as I come awake, my body awash with flames.
Rhys is behind me, holding me tight in his arms. I feel his hard shaft pressed against my backside as one hand plays with my breast and the other is buried between my legs, hurtling me full speed ahead toward an orgasm.
“Rhys,” I whisper, and his name sounds harsh even to my own ears. I rock my hips as much as I can against his hand, needing so much more but he’s holding me tight against him, limiting my movements.
