Cruel Lies (Lies 4)

“You don’t get to make that decision.”

“Just like you don’t get to make the decision to bring him here without consulting me first.”

I come down hard on her lips—getting a taste of her fiery sweetness before sudden pain overtakes me.

I roll off her after she knees me hard in the balls.

She moves to get off the bed, but I grab her shirt. It starts to tear as she reaches for the gun. I throw her back on the bed, ripping her shirt completely off of her.

She gasps when I stare at her bare stomach and kiss her skin above her belly button.

For a moment, she lets me touch her. She strokes my hair as I kiss her tenderly.

We won’t be fucking each other tonight, no matter how much we both need it—not with my wife in the next room. Neither of us is that cruel.

I won’t be fucking Liesel again until I convince Phoenix to divorce me. Even then, it’s a long shot. The only reason she fucked me before is because we thought we were going to die. Now, that time has passed.

Good thing in our world, the threat of death is just around the corner.

I inch up to kiss her breasts, when she slaps me across the cheek.

She grabs my shirt and rips it the same way I did, right down the fucking middle. Her nails dig into my skin next before her teeth bite and nip over my abs.

My eyes roll back in my head with each touch of her mouth against my skin. I shouldn’t moan—Phoenix will make me pay for all the sounds I’m making in here, thinking I’m fucking Liesel when I’m not. But dammit, I can’t control myself around Liesel.

“Huntress,” I warn when her lips lower to just above my pants.

She grins as she continues to kiss down my happy trail.

I grab her chin, lifting her up.

“Don’t fight fire with fire,” I say.

“Why not?”

“Because I can handle getting burned, but you can’t.”

“I’ve been burned before.”

“I know—but I can’t handle being the one who burns you.”

She gasps.

I make my move.

I flip her onto her back and sink my hand back beneath her panties, finding the sweet spot that controls her whimpers, cries, and moans. I rub my finger slowly over her clit, feeling her panties soaking around my fingers.

She’s silent at first, and then the first glorious whimper pushes through her luscious lips.

“Please, stop torturing me,” she whispers.

I stop.

Her hips buck, begging me to finish her.

My eyes darken. I need answers. I need her to come.

I lean down and kiss her slowly, torturously. It’s a real kiss that floods her body with emotions and drenches my hand with her precum.