Page 75 of Liar

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Page 75 of Liar

It’s both soothing and sexy to lean back and use his cum as lube while he watches, his Noble cloak billowing off my shoulders and tickling my ankles. Being dirty with him in public, submitting to his orders, always at odd times and in unfathomable situations, I can’t resist.

Why should I? It feels good. Thorne makes me feel good.

My eyes are closed. I can’t see his reaction as I bring myself up to his level and dampen this branch the way he has. There’s no need to. Thorne’s in my head. His face is constantly on my mind, exquisitely unmatched and one I’m obsessed with. He can be naked in my imagination or in reality—both will stun me into orgasm.

I practically hew my lips shut as I reach my breaking point, my own fingers spearing in and out of myself and my thumb doing the work I wish Thorne would.

The comedown nearly tips me out of the tree. My legs are boneless, my chest filled with prickly static. Thorne has to steady me with both hands at my clavicle, his fingers kneading the back of my neck. “Good girl.”

I hum in pleasure as goose bumps form under his ministrations.

“I’d bend you back and fuck you right now, but unfortunately, we have to leave.”

His words bring me back to real life too hard and too fast. “I can’t believe I just did that. It’s too easy to escape with you. With everything going on—”

“You deserve pleasure, Ember.” His quiet voice becomes even softer. “It’s me who doesn’t deserve the pleasure of you.”

I meet his eyes. “I choose what I want. And I want you.”

Thorne lowers his brows, creating crescent shadows over his eyes. “That’s your stupid side coming out agai—”

I don’t give him time to humiliate me out of my decision to keep him.

I jump forward and catch his lips with mine.

Chapter 24

Thorne

I don’t kiss.

It’s been a rule of mine since I can remember. The very idea of exposing a softer side of myself is unappealing and pathetic. I’ll happily ram my cock into a girl’s mouth. I’ll eagerly put mine on a pussy. But mouth-to-mouth contact and the brushing of tongues—that muscle we use to speak, so small compared to the rest that comprise our bodies yet so crucial at exposing our vulnerabilities—yeah, no thank you. No girl needs to come close to that.

Until Ember.

I should be revolted by her wet, sticky touch. She pulled free from my dick with drool and cum collecting on her chin and didn’t bother to wipe before capturing my mouth.

I should push her away, grab her by the neck and brutalize her with insults so venomous she’ll never dare to kiss me again.

I don’t.

I’m taken aback by her softness. She’s swollen from me, all that sucking and swallowing, but it adds an unexpected plushness as she parts my lips with her tongue and explores my most protected area. Her tongue does an inquisitive dance against mine, enough for me to unfurl and let the velvet of her take over.

Ember angles her head, and I grant the deeper access by cupping the back of her neck and pressing her closer.

Her teeth dig into my lips. I press harder, wanting the hurt, the pain, the blood to come from too much roughness.

Ember doesn’t allow it. She pushes against my grip, keeping her touch soft, drawing her tongue in and butterfly kissing my lips.

“What are you doing?” I ask roughly.

“Touching you,” she murmurs.

“That’s not—this isn’t the way it should be.”

Her arms come up, wrapping around my shoulders and neck. “This is what caring about someone looks like, Thorne.”

My hand falls from her back, slackened by her confidence.




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