Page 66 of Marry Lies
Why does Miles have a glass room, and why are there people having sex here? I swallow the hurt that works up my esophagus, trying to justify it.
Maybe he rents the room out to friends?
Maybe he has secret roommates?
Maybe he owns a porn studio?
I look around for cameras, and I nearly fall over when I spot Miles.
I hadn’t seen him before, as the light of the glass room created a shadow off to the right of the encasement. He’s sitting—leaning forward on a large, sectional sofa, legs spread wide.
Watching.
My eyes flick between Miles and the couple. What is going on? Is he going to join? As my eyes rove back to the glass room, I realize that they haven’t once looked at Miles.
Because they can’t see him.
Something hot and sharp lances through me at the thought of this couple having sex and Miles just…watching them quietly.
I’d considered the possibility that the cellar might house something kinky, and to my delight, this is certainlythat.I suppress a smile as I open the door a bit wider and lean against the door frame.
Just as my eyes flick back to Miles, he leans back and unzips his trousers.
Oh.
Oh.
I swallow as I watch him, and from this angle, I can hardly see a thing thanks to the arms of the sofa, but from the way his face hardens, the way his wrists move…I know exactly what he’s doing.
Because I’ve seen him do it before.
Okay, this isn’t so bad. I mean, he gets his rocks off to watching someone else have sex…that’s normal, right? It’s like a live porn show. I cross my legs the other way, begrudging the feel of my damp knickers, squeezing my thighs slightly to get a bit of relief.
The couple gets more vocal as the seconds wear on, and I hear a few loud slaps and smacks. I almost look over at them, but I can’t take my eyes off Miles.
He’s leaning back fully now, and his hand is moving over what appears to be a long, thick shaft. My mouth waters as his jaw slackens slightly before tensing again. Watching his face makes me feel like I’m riding the waves of pleasure with him. My breathing hitches at the thought, and one of my hands comes to my throat as I do a slow perusal of his body—of the way his dress shirt is buttoned all the way, how his sleeves are still fastened together with cufflinks. Like even in the height of wanton desire, he still manages to seem conservative and buttoned-up.
And then my traitorous mind imagines the most inconvenient thing.
Miles bendingmeover a bed, fully dressed, as my naked body trembles beneath him.
While someone watches.
I pull away from the door frame, suddenly stunned at the audacity of my mind to concoct such an illicit scene, and three things happen at once.
The woman appears to climax, screaming as her partner slams into her rough and wild, so hard that the bed is moving with each thrust.
The door creaks slightly as I move away.
And, at the noise, Miles snaps his eyes to me.
Fuck.
My eyes widen as he holds eye contact, locking his gaze on me. Mouth dry, I watch with wanton interest as he strokes himself, as he doesn’t turn away or stop. My lips part as he throws his head back, hollowing his cheeks as his arms shake and his body twitches. He’s looking at me, but he seems unable to stop whatever he’s doing.
He’s coming.
God, this is so—
