Page 42 of Liar

Thorne catches me, laying me on my side. He lies down alongside me.

He catches my bleary eyes. He asks hoarsely, “Did you come?”

I shake my head. At least, I think I do.

“The first time doesn’t usually come with an orgasm,” he agrees. But his hand goes to the small of my back, where he collects some of his fluid. Then his voice comes out as a dark promise. “Let’s change that.”

My brows furrow.

He brings his slick fingers back to my pussy, coating himself all over my clit, rubbing and stimulating so suddenly, I flop onto my back on a moan, his cum sinking into my sheets.

“Spread for me, baby.” His husky tone drifts close to my lips. I want to taste it.

Am I drunk? I feel drunk.

My hips have other ideas, all too sober and begging for his agile fingers. Thorne chuckles, his fingers darting in and out of me, stroking and flicking, pressing his thumb into my clit. “I’m all over you, little pretty. It’s a sexy sight to see how sticky you’ve become. Here.”

Thorne uses his other hand to scrape up some excess, then shoves the two fingers into my mouth. “Suck on it while I get you off.”

I moan around his fingers, the knuckles rough on my lips. He shoves them almost to the back of my throat, but I wrap my mouth around them and stroke my tongue on the underside.

Thorne’s eyes grow dark as he watches, my hooded stare catching him at his most satiated.

He doesn’t stop playing with my pussy, his strokes more demanding the longer I take. Blood, semen, me, coats my tastebuds. My nipples turn into hard tips at the thought of how hot this must look.

“I’ll even let you breathe this time,” Thorne whispers into my ear, his hair tickling my temple. “Come for me, little pretty. That’s an order.”

I do.

And I’m not sure if I’ll ever be the same again.

Chapter 14

Ember

I pause in the middle of the main staircase when I hear the knock.

Did I really hear that? Malcolm and I don’t get visitors. It’s not a thing. Especially at seven thirty in the morning when I’m the only resident at the manor. Malcolm left late last evening for either FBI or business-related reasons, and Thorne wasn’t anywhere in my room when I rolled over and opened heavy-lidded eyes—

No. Don’t think about that yet.

Knock-knock-knock.

The raps come in faster intervals, the lost tourist clearly in need of immediate directions.

“Uh … Dash?” I call out.

Sadly, Dash does not materialize from the shadows, likely because he didn’t hear the baritone of his employer’s voice—rather, it’s the unappreciative, new teenage tenant who wants something.

I billow out my lips as I adjust my messenger bag on my shoulder, stuffed with today’s class assignments, and take the rest of the stairs, wincing when my vagina protests the movement.

It’s sore—throbbing in a way I’ve never felt before, not even when I used a tampon for the first time. If I’m honest, everything feels strange down there, like I’ve both abused and satiated it.

I suppose that’s exactly what I did.

Blinking images of Thorne’s raw enthusiasm out of the way, I cross the foyer and open the heavy front door in the middle of another round of knocks.

“Oh.” I stumble back in surprise.