Love the Way You Lie (Stripped 1)

“Open for me,” he groans.

I open my lips, letting him inside, almost grateful, relishing the way his whole body stiffens. I breathe him in, the salty scent of his cock, already smelling of me and him—as if we’ve had sex. He stares down at me as I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, and I don’t look away.

There are rules, about looking him in the eye. About using a condom, even for this.

But I’m breaking them. My tongue and my lips and even the edge of my teeth work to give him pleasure, pushing faster and harder than I’ve ever done before—not because I want it to end, but because I know it will. And when this is over, I want him to remember me.

Foolish. Reckless. I don’t care. Right now I want that as much as survival—more.

He grunts and finds a rhythm, and I match my sucking to him, opening my throat to let him in deeper, using my sucks and my tongue in tandem to push him over the edge. Just like he pushed me. It’s a double-edged sword between us, but right now he’s the one being cut. He’s the one shuddering, groaning, almost humping the floor as he fucks my mouth.

A lock of my hair falls into my face, jerked by the rough motion of his body and mine. He reaches down…and carefully smooths the lock from my forehead. Even though I’m lying on a leather jacket, arms pinned by my sides, getting fucked, being used—the touch is almost tender.

“Christ,” he gasps, and then warm come fills my mouth.

I swallow it quickly, only to find more spurting from the tip. He has so much come, as if he hasn’t climaxed in forever, like he’s been saving it all for me. I swallow again and again, until only the faint salty flavor of him remains, and he pulls away.

He runs his thumb down my cheek, then lower, wiping away a drop of his come from the corner of my lips. “Thank you,” he says.

I let him tuck the blanket around me, warming me up. Only then do I realize I’m cold. Freezing. I’m still shivering, until he slips under with me, wrapping his strong arms around me. “Shh,” he soothes.

“I didn’t say anything,” I say.

I feel his smile. “I heard you anyway, Honey. I always do. You don’t even have to say anything. You just have to feel, and I can hear it like a goddamn church bell.”

“And you’re a religious man?” I ask, smiling sleepily.

“No, never. But you make me want to be. I want to worship you.”

His cock is already half-erect against my leg. He follows through on his promise, worshipping me with his lips and tongue and fingers until I writhe on that roof, until I open my mouth and choke out incoherent words, pleading, crying, needing, while the heavy moon looks on with satisfaction.

His cock spreads me wide, filling me until I can only rock my hips up, riding the edge.

He grunts on every thrust, a primal sound that spurs me on. His breath is hot against my skin. His hips spreading my legs wide. I’m completely invaded by him, taken over, wanting more.

“Please, please, please,” I beg, shameless, free of the shackles I wear below this roof, onstage.

But it’s too much. I’m too loud. Especially when he moves to hit a different spot inside me. I moan, and his hand comes up to cover my mouth. That is what pushes me over—the rough feel of his palm on my lips, being quieted by him, controlled. I come in a burst of color and sound, sensation rolling over me, making me clench around his cock as it pulses with come.

Chapter Eleven

It’s close to dawn when I climb down the fire escape, carefu

l not to rattle the metal too much. I’ll have to hurry to make it back to Clara in time. That’s the excuse I have for leaving without waking him up. Okay, I’m not just leaving. I’m sneaking away. But Kip is asleep. I must have drifted off at some point too.

It will be easier for both of us if I’m gone when he wakes up. We aren’t going to run away together. This isn’t a fairy tale. I won’t make the same mistakes my mother did. I know better than to trust a man.

I know better than to love one.

Candy is leaning against the brick wall. She takes the cigarette from her lips and blows smoke in my direction. She looks me up and down, clearly unimpressed by what she sees. “Didn’t we tell you not to get involved with the customers?”

Of course they did—and the worst part is, they’re right. There’s no way this ends well for me. “I’m not involved,” I lie.

She laughs, low and bitter. “Doesn’t get more involved than fucking outside the club. Let me guess, he didn’t have to pay you for that one. That was just for fun.”

I flinch because I hadn’t even thought to ask for payment. What we did suddenly feels cheap. And that’s what it is…cheap. “Stop,” I whisper.

“Is that what you told him?” Her voice is taunting, her eyes whip-sharp. I’ve never seen her like this. I can only think I’ve earned her wrath for ignoring her advice. For keeping my secrets.