Page 25 of King of Lies
I push his pants and boxer briefs aside and his heavy cock springs free to bob near his belly button. I take a deep breath and then, like he taught me to do over the last few weeks, I wrap my hand around his base and stroke once, twice, three times, before I lower my head and place him in my mouth.
I swirl around him and lap at his slit over and over until my body heats. The way he’s letting me take control is a heady feeling. He groans and it rumbles up from his chest and I feel that noise in my clit. Moisture gathers in me and I start to squirm on my knees, turned on by turning him on.
He grabs me by my hair and pulls me up off of him and I reluctantly let his dick go. “Come here, hellcat,” he says as he guides me to sit up on my knees as I straddle him, leaving space between my center and his hard length. He runs his fingertip through my slit and I feel that everywhere. “Fucking soaked just sucking me off, are you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Is this cock yours?” he asks me. “Do you want it now? Are you going to bloody take it like a good girl?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, and he pinches my nipple hard.
“You bloody well do. Am I yours?”
“I want you to be,” I answer, and he soothes the hurt with his thumb.
“Then I am,” he says, lining up the head of him with my entrance. “And this cock is for you, too.”
“Yes,” I pant as he rubs the head through my wet.
“Then fucking take what’s yours,” he commands, and I sink down over him.
“Rhys,” I whisper, feeling my eyes go wide because I’m so full of him this way that it almost hurts.
“That’s right,” he grinds out, grabbing my hips and pushing me down on him even further until I let out a whimper. “Feel how full you are of me. Full of my cock.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to fill you full of my cum.”
“Yes.”
“Plant my babies in your belly when the time is right, and I have my ring on your finger.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not leaving you and you’re sure as fuck not leaving me. Now take what’s yours,” he orders as he glides his hands up my sides to cup my breasts. And the whole time he’s talking, my body burns brighter and hotter and it feels like I’ll die if I don’t move. So when he says to take what’s mine, I tentatively rock over him and moan.
And then I do it again. And again.
“That’s it, Hen. Fuck me. Fuck yourself on my cock.”
I move faster and faster. Dropping myself down on him harder and harder and then I cover his hands at my breasts with my own and lean back. I know he won’t let me fall, and the new angle is so delicious on its own, but it’s the look on his face when he glances down to where we’re joined and he watches as he disappears inside me over and over that has my movements becoming jerky as I race toward the peak of my climax.
He feels the change in me as I struggle to grasp onto my orgasm. It’s as if it’s just out of reach and I can’t focus enough to give it to myself. It’s then that Rhys flips me so fast setting my back to the sofa. He’s over me, bracing one foot on the floor and the other knee in the sofa, driving into me so that I feel it finally build to where I need it to go.
He places his hand over the gold heart at the base of my throat. His hand there means something to him, but the look of pure male bliss that washes over his face as it combines with the powerful way he moves inside me is what throws me over the edge of my climax.
Rhys powers into me once … twice … a third time, his hand still collaring my throat in a way that screams ownership, and he drives himself deep one last time. Because his face is not close to me, I can watch the chords of his throat work as he finds his own climax.
I watch his chest rise and fall and then he looks down at me and says, “I’m not fucking leaving you.”
“Okay, Rhys.”
“And you’ll be here when I get back.”
“Yes, Rhys.”
“Don’t take it off while I’m gone,” he says, his voice softening as he plays with the gold heart as it dangles.
