by Lexi Whitlow
“Good. I’m going to show you what that means. Again. Because you’re fucking made for it.” He whips me around and pushes me against the dresser. His words are raspy with lust, echoing in my ear and sending vibrations into my core. Heat rises in my center, igniting me from the inside with a need as wide as the ocean.
Liam pulls my shirt off over my head and brings his mouth to my breasts, biting gently with his teeth. A whimper escapes my lips.
His eyes are serious when he looks at me, distant and cool. At times, I feel like there are so many things he’s not telling me, that there are secrets bigger than the two of us. But I push the thought aside, letting gooseflesh overtake my skin, giving myself over to the sensation and longing.
The need becomes urgent, pressing. I open my mouth to speak but he raises a finger to my lips.
“Like I said, you’re mine. And I get to use you like I please. Isn’t that right?”
A stormy tempest of arousal rises in my body. “Yes, that’s right.”
My love.
Surrender. Give in.
I close my eyes. There are no declarations of love, no talks about our relationship past the hearing, no mention of a future beyond today. But my heart longs for it. It’s what I wanted, and being married to Liam is tricking my mind into wanting it again.
I want to say this, but my words are gone. Liam’s hand is between my legs again, his fingers slipping inside of me, the base of his palm rocking against my clit. I suck in a sharp breath, and need winds its way through my body. I’m aching with it, desperate, hapless, miserable. I spread my legs for Liam, even though my mind tries to pull away. To separate.
Instead, I’m pulling off my panties and throwing them to the floor. Liam lifts me and carries me to the bed, throwing me down on the rumpled gray coverlet I brought from my apartment. I throw my body back so I’m posed on my elbows. Liam shuffles out of his towel, and I can see his growing length.
He wants me as much as I want him, and that confuses everything.
But when he joins me on the bed, there’s nothing that I can say.
Instead, his fingers are finding my sex again, and I close my eyes, letting my body draw closer to the edge of reason yet again.
There are things to be said, but the scent of this man, the way he smiles at me, the way he parts my lips with his… all of that takes over my thoughts instead, pushing out every hint of worry with coursing, intense lust that heightens my senses and threatens to destroy me completely. My nipples grow stiff in the cool air of the room, and he palms my breasts, fingers trailing over them, playing me like I’m an instrument designed for his pleasure.
I am his. His for now. The instrument he needs in this time and place.
Liam rolls to his side, next to me, stroking his shaft to an even greater hardness. My eyes meet his, and slowly, I spread my legs for him, my hand reaching for my slippery cleft.
Gone are the protests from before, and my thoughts about our relationship are getting fuzzy. Instead, I concentrate on circling my fingers over my clit and running my hand down the slippery wetness of my sex.
This is never something I would have done with Charlie.
He never would have asked. Never would have wanted it.
But it feels so natural, so necessary, with Liam. I’m compelled to show him my pleasure. My presence in his life. The aching sweetness that he gives to me each time we’re together.
“What do you want, my little librarian?” Liam’s voice is deep and husky.
My lips curl up into a smile. I might not know what this relationship means, but I am entirely certain about what I need at this very moment. “I want you inside of me.”
These are words I never would have said before.
Words that are on my lips each time we’re together like this.
There’s a first time for everything, and I am evolving.
I tilt my head back and lose myself in the pleasure, fingers working over my own body. Each flick brings me closer to orgasm, sparks lighting through every part of my body.
“Make yourself come, baby,” he groans.
I moan, loud, at the very sound of his voice. My mouth waters as I look at Liam stroking his length. I think of him, stretching me, taking my breath away. His mouth, his tongue, his fingers. Suddenly, I come with jarring force, shaking against my hand.
He watches me with hunger in his eyes.
“I want your mouth on me, Skye,” he says.
I kneel next to him, and the next thing I know, my hands are on Liam’s cock, stroking it, tasting his soft, hot skin and the saltiness of his essence. It makes the think of the first time we were together here in this apartment. My sex throbs as I suck his cock, taking his shaft to the back of my throat and listening as his sighs turn to groans. His hips move in response to my mouth and my tongue.
I’m ready for him to come in my mouth, hit the back of my throat. But he pulls himself away from my mouth and positions himself between my legs.
I look at him with wide eyes. “What did I do wrong?
“It’s all about what you did right, my little librarian.” He drops his body onto mine, and I can feel every chiseled muscle against my skin. “I’m going to come inside of you. Like I did last night and the night before. I just can’t resist.”
He kisses me hard, and he pulls my hair. Every bit of me is on fire, my body screaming out primally and fully. He puts his cock at the entrance of my pussy.
He groans. “So tight. So sweet. Are you ready?”
Before I have a chance to answer him, I feel the head slip inside. My sex pulses in response, and a network of fire explodes in my body. In one swift movement, he pushes the rest of the way inside, his bare cock pushing against my walls. Liam groans, throaty and rich, throwing his head back, lost in pleasure.
“I’m going to come fast, baby. Are you going to come for me again?”
His hips crash against my clit, the pressure building, the rhythm increasing in speed with each powerful thrust.
“Harder,” I moan. “Make me come. Please, make me come.” I’m babbling, groaning, hips bucking upward to meet him.
“Tell me I’m yours. Tell me that pussy is mine. Say it.”
My body is quaking against Liam’s, and I can barely say it, wave after wave of orgasm filling me with light and white-hot heat. But I manage. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”
He grips my wrists and finds his rhythm again, thrusting hard inside of me. I can feel his essence fill me, the warmth and satisfaction of it.
His body slumps against mine, spent.
If my last words were too much for him, he doesn’t let it on. Instead, he pulls me closer into his body and kisses me gently on the forehead. It’s not the gesture of an extended one night stand—that’s what this was supposed to be. It’s more intimate, more real.
Maybe this is preparing me for some brighter future, for some nebulous goal somewhere down the line. But right now, this all feels scary, like this is too far for either of us to go. But as I shower and get dressed for work, everything fades back into the sense of normalcy that existed before.
We’re married.
We’re living together.
We’re fighting for that little girl. For stability. For the courts. For everything we’d planned.
The word goes out of my mind again. It’s an emotion I could feel, given the right circumstances. But these are not the right circumstances, and Liam clearly isn’t the right person. I’ll let it ride.
But as I get on the train for work, I’m lost in thought.
Will I not let myself say those three words because he’s not the right man for me—or is it because I know the sentiment won’t be returned?
It doesn’t matter, either way.
The results are the same no matter what, and our relationship will continue just as it is for the time being. Anything else would be far more than our fake relationship can stand.