Page 45 of Torched

“Sit,” he orders, reinforcing his grip to put action in his command, and I do as I’m told. I draw in a breath when I feel how easily my body adjusts to his firmness as I pull my lower lip between my teeth.

His hands wrap around my back, our torsos glued together. When his lips find mine, I slowly move my hips up and down. His sounds are feral, spurring me on like a bronco as I enjoy his cock gliding through my perceptive walls.

“You are so gorgeous,” he huffs against my lips, pushing my wet hair out of my face. Our bodies are completely melting together, our skin slick, only adding to the sensations. We move as one, kissing with every move like we can’t breathe without the other. The sound of the water collapsing against the tiles drowns out our moans, but the vibration of each one of them is felt in every muscle of my body.

My clit is brushed by every shift of my hips, and his grunts and groans are getting more desperate as I keep going. They act like motivation, feeding my urge to feel him lose himself inside of me. To unload the tension we’re both feeling. His hands dig into me with a bruising grip, telling me he’s close, and I throw more force into my hips.

“Touch me,” I cry.

His thumb connects with my clit as I grind up and down his shaft, and rapidly, my hips tense. “Make me come.” My plea is needy, and he’s nothing more than obliging when he cups my cheek, bringing his lips to mine while he circles my most sensitive spot with surgical precision. “Yes, keep going. Don’t stop.Please, don’t stop.” My movements are becoming more frantic, the tone coming from my throat filled with despair. All I can think about is how much I need this man in every single way. How he ruins me for every other man, completely claiming me with every touch of his hand.

Still sensitive from the first two times, it doesn’t take long before my legs are shaking, as my orgasm surges through me with as much delight as torture. His thumb leaves my folds as he lets me ride out my release, my up and down movements slowing a bit. When I come back from my high, my eyes lock with his. They are laced with lust, but also a sense of nothing more than pleasure that he can please me. Satisfaction I’m giving him indirectly. The sight of his expression is beautiful and makes me determined to let him shatter underneath my hips.

I press a harsh kiss to his lips, my forehead against his.

“You’re amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he counters, biting my lip.

“I’m about to show you how amazing I am.” Without waiting for his reply, I move my body down his full length, each sway of my hips more scorching than the last.

“Fucking hell, baby.” He shuts his eyes. Resting his head against the tiles, he bites his lips, sweet little moans coming from his throat as I keep going. “Oh, God. You feel so good.”

“It’s Gen, baby,” I tease, latching onto his neck and biting his earlobe. The action causes him to shudder underneath me. My will to make him explode has me bouncing harder and harder, until his grunts turn into curses and mindless praise for me, and his hands on my body take hold, lifting me up and down at the pace he’s setting. My legs are burning, and right at the moment I think I can’t take any more, his teeth dig into my shoulder, a roar echoing in my ear. He unloads his release inside of me as I hold still to give him the final pumps he needs before he goes completely limp. His arms are still firmly circled around my back when he drags me to the floor, my weight on top of him as he tries to catch his breath with his body pressed against the wet tiles.

“Motherfucker,” he whispers in my ear.

Sassy as he makes me, I lift my chin, resting it on his chest. “Nah, it’s Liam-fucker.”

The full laughter that rumbles through him expands my chest and widens my cheeks until they can’t go any farther.

“You’re damn right it is,” he says before he presses a kiss to my forehead.

12

CRISTINA

TWO YEARS

Itreatedmyselftosome new heels yesterday, but the more steps I take down the pavement, the more I regret it. After a long day of events to look for potential models for the next shipment, they are fucking killing me, and my mood along with it. There should be a rule where $500 shoes are instantly comfy. I want to walk on clouds for that kind of moneyandlook fucking amazing. Though the latter I can still pull off wearing sneakers and a sweatsuit.

My phone rings in my purse, and I rummage through to get it.

Liam.

Yay.

With aggravation fluttering my lashes, accompanied by a big grunt, I conjure a smile on my face like I’m the happiest woman in the world. I hate that cliché is true, but I Iearned thatfake it until you make itis a legit thing, so putting a smile on is the only option right now.

“Hey, baby,” I greet him through the phone while I keep my steps steady. The sun has already set, the twilight dimming the streets. A breeze makes my black hair dance while I roam the streets, just to make sure he’s not around somewhere before I start telling him shit. He surprised me more than once in the last few weeks, claiming to beromantic. He can skip that shit as far as I’m concerned, butCristina-who-broke-with-her-familyseems to really dig it. I hate her, and I can’t wait for the day to come when she can get buried again alongside her boyfriend.

“I miss you,” he drools through the phone, and my eyes automatically roll to the back of my head, before I swipe my cheeks back up into a swooning smile.

“I miss you too.” Ugh, I swear she’s disgusting.

“How about I pick you up and we go for dinner? We can watch that TV show when we get back?”

That TV show is the latest season of the Bachelor. I pretend to like it because apparently everybody is watching it now, but really it makes my skin crawl in the worst way. It’s pathetic how all these women fight to get a snippet of attention from somehombre.It’s like all these women like to be suppressed by men, always treating them as the superior species. A guy should fight for me. Not the fucking other way around.Por supuesto, now I’m stuck watching everystupidoepisode of that show while Liam is trying to be the supportive boyfriend. Just like he asks me how my day was every single day. In fact, he should stop being so fucking lovey dovey because he looks like a goddamn pussy.

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