Page 68 of Marry Lies
He turns around and walks away, leaving me feeling confused, breathless, and extremely turned on. I quickly jog up the stairs, feeling the telltale sign of tingling and need between my legs. Rushing into the suite, I hardly have time to second guess myself as I pull my vibrator out of my bedside table. Walking over to my bedroom door, I shut it.
And then, the most inconvenient thought enters my mind.
I walk to the door leading to the joint bathroom, opening it a crack.
Because…
I want him to watch me.
I tug my jeans off in a frenzy. My back arches when I power on my vibrator and press the thick head against my clit, moaning uncontrollably.
Pretending it’s his tongue. Thinking about his long fingers pushing into me, thinking about his warm skin against mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and pull up the image of him wanking—of the way he watched me, unable to stop. The way his hips snapped up into his hand.
I spread my legs and pretend he’s on the other side of the door, already hard.
Alreadyneedingto be inside of me despite just finishing moments ago.
Thinking of how his thick shaft would stretch me deliciously.
I angle the vibrator and press it down harder as I whimper out his name.
“Miles.”
And then I come—hard.
It barely takes the edge off, so after a moment to rest, I do it all over again.
All the while imagining him watching me from the dark bathroom.
All the while…watchingme.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
THE CREEP
Miles
I make my way up to the suite quickly, hoping to catch Estelle before she goes to sleep. Remorse and embarrassment work through me at the same time, and despite the thrill of knowing she finds my proclivitiesinteresting,I still didn’t want her to find out that way.
In fact, I didn’t want her to find outat all.
I should’ve known she’d go searching for a spare key. It doesn’t surprise me—she’s a wily, unpredictable person who, like me, is naturally curious.
If I were in her shoes, I would’ve done the same thing.
The problem is, now that I know she knows…
I clench my jaw. The distance I’d so painstakingly placed between us felt like a taut thread ready to snap.
How much longer could I stay away from her?
Once the elevator doors open, I half-jog to the door of our suite, wondering if she’s going to be sitting on that atrocious couch, or if I’m going to have to buck up and knock on her bedroom door. Either way, she deserves a formal apology—for keeping this from her, for acting inappropriately during dinner, for everything.
She’s not in the suite, which means she’s probably in her room.
I pause before walking to her door. Closing my eyes briefly, I think of the way my heart leapt into my throat when I saw Estelle standing in the doorway of the cellar—how fucking hard I came because of the surprise, anger, and excitement swirling around inside of me.
I think of the way her skin smelled sweet with arousal, and how her hair was so fucking soft. I think of how she filled out the jeans she was wearing—how they cut off around her tapered waist, but filled out her sculpted ass and thighs.
