Page 89 of Marry Lies
Miles twists my nipples lightly. The rough pads of his fingers brush against my sensitive buds, and I let out a frustrated mewl. It feels amazing, but I need more.
Miles must read my mind, because one of his hands trails down to the area between my legs.
“You’re soaking wet, wife,” he says in a pleased groan. “It’s running down your thighs. What I wouldn’t give to push you down on the couch and taste you,” he adds, his middle finger beginning to lightly circle my clit. I can feel how aroused I am–how with each circle, my pussy squeezes his cock.
“Please,” I beg.
“Another day. Tonight, I want my cock inside of you when you come.”
“Yes,” I pant.
I try to shift my hips, but he holds me still. “Watch them,” he orders.
My eyes dart to the couple. I watch as the man fists her hair roughly, watch as tears stream down her cheeks in black rivers. She doesn’t look scared, though. Her eyes are hooded with lust, and I realize with a start that she’s playing with herself—one finger inserted, and the other playing with her clit.She likes this.And she’s watching her partner with love, adoration, and something else that makes my chest ache.
I can see the trust shining through the glass.
My hips tilt of their own accord, and Miles lets me. His finger works faster against my clit, and the sensation of his cock hitting my inner walls makes me want to scream out loud.
It’s too much. I close my eyes, and somehow Miles notices. He removes his finger from my clit, and I whimper loudly.
“Please,” I beg. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I thought I told you to watch them?” he asks, his voice hard.
The way he can be so gentle in one second, and yet so commanding the next second…I fucking love it.
My eyes snap open just as the man roars, and I know instantly that he’s coming. His motions still, and I can see the way his cock bobs into her mouth. The look on his face—the slackened jaw, the pure, unfiltered reverence toward his partner…
“Fuck,” I whisper, trembling, my pussy gripping Miles tightly. The hard ache between my legs physically hurts—the burning and stretching of his cock, the way my clit is swollen with need…
My thighs contract, needing something. My hands move to his thighs, and I squeeze him. He moans, and his hips jerk slightly, moving his cock deeper.
I cry out, watching the couple in front of us with hooded eyes. The man is stroking the woman’s hair, using his thumb to clean her lips and mascara marks. She’s smiling up at him as he tucks his cock away.
“Are they…” I trail off, unable to think clearly.
“No, they’re not finished. I pay them for an hour,” he adds. “I want you to keep watching as he makes her come.”
“Okay,” I answer, my voice hoarse. I’m not sure how much more I can take, but then the man works his way down her legs, spreading them wide before he buries his face in her dark curls and places one leg over his shoulder. Her back arches and she lets out a low, guttural moan that makes me contract around my husband’s thick shaft again.
Miles continues his ministrations against my clit, and I groan, wanting nothing more than to move my hips in small, subtle circles.
“Fuck, Estelle,” he rasps. “If you keep squeezing me like that, you just might make me come without moving,” he utters. “You’re such a little tease, aren’t you?”
The idea of him unraveling underneath me is so hot. I feel out of control. It’s almost like I’m being tortured with pleasure.
“Miles, I need more,” I beg, my voice uneven, almost a sob. “Please.”
“Not yet,” he says, his voice low. He adds a finger to my clit, massaging either side of it, giving me some friction but not enough to push me over the edge. “This is just a taste of what’s to come, Estelle.”
“Stop edging me, please,” I blurt.
He chuckles behind me. “Do you enjoy being edged?”
I whimper. “Yes, sometimes…but this is torture.”
The woman’s legs shake as the man adds two fingers. He’s laving his tongue up and down her slit, and with each sweep of his tongue, she jerks uncontrollably.
