Page 44 of Taming Liberty

Now for the really ugly lie. The one I’m not sure has truth to it or not.

“You’re better than my husband,” I say, a sheen of unshed tears forming in my eyes. “Even after everything, you’re still better than him, and even though I’m miserable here, I’m glad I’m with you. I…” I close my eyes and take in a shaky breath, my emotions too real for the lie I’m supposed to be telling. “I just want to be happy.”

Angel tenderly cradles my jaw, smoothing his thumb over my cheek. If I could, I would hide in the dark forever, but when he tilts my head to look at him, I force my eyes open.

“I can make you happy … if you let me,” There’s a desperate plea in his voice coupled with certainty. Hope shines in his eyes. “I promise you. I never would’ve let you come here if I thought I couldn’t.”

His face falls. “I know you haven’t been happy here, and I’m truly sorry for that. I should’ve done things differently. Ihatethat I didn’t do things differently. But let me make it better. From here on out, I promise I’ll try to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

More desperate pleas. More certainty that he can truly give me a wonderful life here.

He doesn’t get it. It’s not about the money or the yachts or the fake paradise. I already experienced that with my husband, and I was miserable. I have as much freedom now as I did then, and it doesn’t help to trade one prison cell for another, no matter how plush he makes the mattress.

But he still thinks he can do it, which means he cares. I wish that didn’t make a difference to me.

I don’t answer even though I know I should act like I believe it. That’s what a good manipulator would do. I’ve always seen myself as having a talent for knowing how to work a man, but I’m shit at working Angel. He’s far better at workingme.

He doesn’t wait long for a response, and I’m grateful I don’t have to give him one. He leans down and kisses me, softly, gently, like the lover he wants me to believe he can be.

His hands wrap around my back to embrace me before one of his hands raises to clasp my head.

It feels so good, the way he holds me like he cherishes me. He puts on such a good performance that I feel myself buying into it.

I touch his face and part my lips, inviting him in. He strokes my tongue with his and pushes himself against me. I keep one hand on his face while slipping the other into his boxers.

I lower my hand over his steely length then cup his balls, massaging gently until he breaks away from my mouth.

He hungrily kisses my neck, licking and sucking like a starved animal. I work his clothes over his hips, and this time, he helps me. Once he’s shrugged out of his clothes, he helps me to hurry with mine.

I lift my arms for him to tear off my bra, jutting my hips when he yanks down my pants. He takes my panties with him, and when he stands, he reaches around to grope my ass and lift me onto the sink.

It feels ten degrees hotter in the room as blood rushes to my cold skin. I spread my legs for Angel, my breaths coming fast and heavy, but he doesn’t take me up on the silent offer. Not yet.

He puts his mouth to my ear as he rubs his cock against my thigh. “If you want this, I need you to tell me.” His hot breath sends goosebumps down my limbs. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. I’m not that kind of guy.”

I can hear the uncertainty in his voice, so I slide my hand along his jaw and turn his head so he’ll look at me.

“I want you.” I stare into eyes that look black from how dilated his pupils are.

I mean it too. I feel mixed emotions about a lot, especially around Angel, but I can’t deny this. My core is hot. My skin is hot. The whole goddamn room is hot.

I want him. Not his heart, but his body. His adoration. His need to please me as if I’m a human being who matters. Not just a whore who gives but a woman who receives. It’s been years since I felt that way.

I press my mouth to his ear and nip at his lobe. “Fuck me, Angel.”

His hands clench around my ass as he lifts me and spins toward the walk-in shower. He carries me inside and kisses me before setting me on my feet.

I’m panting while I wait for him to get the shower going, my clit throbbing incessantly, begging for stimulation,relieffrom what feels like a decade of neglect.

I look up as water pours from the ceiling, taking a second to realize it’s a waterfall shower. The water is lukewarm, and Angel must be as hot as I am because he doesn’t turn up the heat. He takes my hips and backs me into a tiled wall before kissing me firmly. I moan into his mouth and spread my legs for him when his hand seeks out my sex.

Ripples of need blaze through me as he slides a finger inside me, my walls clamping down around it. My hips gyrate, searching for something of their own accord, relieved when Angel adds another finger.

I tear my mouth away from him and tilt my head up, my eyes closed as droplets of water kiss my face instead of pelting me like the rain did.

I grab his shoulder and pull him toward me. “I want you.”

He pulls his fingers from me and finds my clit. My knees buckle under his firm touch, but he catches me, holding me up with his hand on my ass.

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