Page 41 of Liar
I curl my hands under my chest and heave, lifting up. When I move, the feel of Thorne inside me is a strange, exotic pressure. Pain mingles with previous pleasure, confusing every synapse in my brain.
Thorne doesn’t push me back onto the bed, nor does he give me time to comprehend how fast he broke my fucking hymen. “Hold your breath, little pretty.”
“I can’t—”
A smack rings out, my right ass cheek stinging right along with my lost virginity. “Fucking ow!” I cry out this time.
“The next words out of those lips of yours better be ‘yes, sir,’ or I’ll spank you again.”
His warning is clear, and as I’ve come to know, he always makes good on them. But at the same time as he bites it out, he massages where he slapped me, soothing the hurt. That complicates my anger. Thorne isn’t meant to do anything sweet, and I knew that going into this.
His dick remains a hard rod inside me. Remembering what happened a few seconds ago, I clench around it—hard.
He fucking moans.
“You spiteful little plaything,” he grinds out, settling his hips against my ass. My stomach does a small flip of warning, but it’s too late. Once he gets the angle he wants, he starts pumping.
My head almost hits the headboard with his unforgiving thrusts until I put a hand there to prevent an embarrassing bruise.
“Hold. Your fucking. Breath.”
His grunts should be terrifying, especially combined with the smack of my skin against his. All it does is turn me on. The burn at my core has turned into a building warmth, the tingles promising a greater release if I just relax into it.
Sweat breaks out on my skin, a hot flush creeping into my cheeks as that feeling builds, the foreign and exotic mixing with the natural act that all humans do.
Another smack hits my ass. There wasn’t even a break in Thorne’s thrusts as he spanked me again. “Hold it, Ember.”
This time, there’s no soothing massage. He’s in the throes of sex as much as I am, so I do as he asks.
Thorne glides his hands up my ribs until he finds my breasts, squeezing hard.
Pain.
Bliss.
Adrenaline.
The concoction fries all brain cells, and I give myself over, allowing sex and death to collide and do what they want with me so long as I can stay in this feeling.
Thorne’s so thick and big, I had to accommodate for him, and now, I can only fit him. No others will ever compare to the new shape he’s created inside me—dark and dirty and completely his.
“Don’t breathe until I come.”
Thorne’s breathless command reaches my ears, and I arch my back, my chin tilted up as I take him in, again and again, my chest tight and aching, my pussy clenching and releasing.
He releases my breasts, their sting intermingling with the struggle in my chest, and slides his fingers over my clit, rubbing and beckoning.
I moan, a little bit of air escaping, and he punishes me for my slip-up with another hard spank in the same spot he’d landed before.
It hurts. It kills, but I love the overstimulation. I don’t know what’s pain or pleasure any longer. I’m only attuned to him.
Saliva bubbles on my lips, my diaphragm trying to pry them open to breathe.
“Fuck. I’m coming. I’m fucking come—breathe, Ember. Breathe!”
Thorne pulls out. Something slaps against the floor before I feel a warm spill on my back.
Stale air spools out of me while fresh oxygen coats my lungs. I wobble on my hands, swaying sideways as I try to stay conscious. The rush is almost too much. I’m falling under…