Page 31 of One Twisted Lie

I’m prepared to flip over on all fours like I normally do, but he stops me. It’s unspoken as he holds my hip down against the bed, hovering over me like there’s a question that needs to be answered. Neither of us says anything. I don’t beg him to fuck me like a dog, and he doesn’t demand for me to turn over like one. His dark eyes bore into mine, hesitant and almost shimmering with a tamed sense of wonder as he slides into me.

It feels so different. The way his cock stretches me is a familiar comfort, but the angle is off. It’s almost as if I can feel more of him, all of him, and I didn’t realize I was missing it. The press of his chest against mine is heavy, so heavy that it almost hurts to breathe. When he dips his head down, our lips brushing with every thrust, all those mixed emotions come back to the forefront of my mind.

Because I want him to see me. I want him to look me in the eyes as he fucks me. I want him to fall so fucking deeply pathetic over me, like I am for him at this moment. I want him to be as fucked up as I am about all of this. I don’t want there to be any shadow of a doubt about what we’re sharing.

When I couldn’t see him, I could almost pretend this didn’t mean anything, but I can’t now. This connection I feel when he brushes his lips against my cheek is unspeakably intense, so wordlessly transformative, so intimately burdening. I need him to share that with me. I need him to feel it too.

Fuck. I need him to dive headfirst as I already have.

“Oh, fuck yeah. Fucking tight, fucking needy, fuckingmine,” he mumbles against my ear, my cock twitching at his last word, his breath hitching when he realizes what he’s said. I expect him to pull away, or dosomethingto diminish what he called me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches up to tip my chin down so we can see each other better. He licks my lips and smiles. “Who’s my slut?”

“I am,” I respond, reaching up to ground myself on his shoulders as he thrusts into me, driving himself so deep that it forces my head to bump against the headboard.

“Who’s my whore?”

“M-me…”

“You’re my princess, Oz,” he whispers, nipping at my lips as his hands push my thighs into my chest. He stares down at where our bodies are meeting and grabs my cock. The sound of slapping skin and heavy breaths is erotic and dirty, but his words are the opposite. “My perfect princess, Oz. All mine. My ass to fuck, my ass to care for, and my ass to fucking torment. Am I right?”

He’s jacking me like his life depends on it, he’s kissing me like he doesn’t want to know my response, and he’s fucking me like he never wants it to end. I nod because he is right.

I’m all his.

In this moment of glorious climax, of heart-wrenching orgasm, of mind-numbing bliss when I come, I’m all his. Nobody will ever fuck me like this, know me like this, want me like this. As I come down from my high and as he fucks his cum into me, I know that this moment can’t last. I know that what we have isn’t perfect. I know that, deep down, the hate we harbored for each other will never really go away. Just like we both know this can’t be permanent, just like we both want to bury our heads in the sand, just like we both don’t care to give a fuck about the future.

Because no one else’s torture would ever be this sweet.

Chapter 16

Ozymandias

“I just think it’s stupid.”

“I know you do.”

“He’s being an idiot.”

“Yes, dear.”

“I mean, come on—Carter!”

Carter’s eyes snap to mine the second before my pillow hits his face. He manages to catch it and throws it to the side, narrowing his eyes at me as he does. “What the fuck?”

“You’re not paying attention to me,” I whine, flopping down on my bed with a groan.

He snickers and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “You’re so fucking needy. What is it?”

What is it? It’s only the same topic I’ve been going on about for twenty minutes. We’re sitting in my dorm, supposed to be hanging out, but Carter’s been working on his stupid computer this entire time. Sue me if I want a little bit of attention.

“Daniel and Magnus,” I remind him, frowning when he goes back to his laptop with a sigh.

I’m not too sure what happened, but apparently, there was a big blowout between them after the family weekend about a week ago. I don’t think any of us are supposed to know—like we weren’t supposed to know about them fucking in the first place—but in such a small friend group, information like that travels quickly. Daniel told Avery, who told me, and then I told Carter. I’m just so fucking pissed. Daniel is a goddamn sweetheart, and I had felt guilty before thinking that Magnus would fuck it up but look what he did.

I know that I’m not supposed to judge anything at face value because, without the full story, who fucking knows what happened between the two of them, but I’m not a perfect person. I’m judging and my severe and violent judgment is now being directed straight at Magnus Black.

“I told you we need to stay out of it. They’re both our friends,” Carter says through a groan as he types away on his computer. “We can’t pick sides.”

Sure, like that’s going to happen.

---