Filthy Beautiful Lies(#1#2)

“I want your virginity, sweetness. I want total claim over you. It’s the only way to show me that you’re really here for me.”

“But you said friends,” I tease, lightly, drawing out the delicious verbal sparring that is so much like foreplay.

“Fuck being friends. I want to be inside you.”

“I want that too,” I say. “More than anything.”

“You sure about that?”

I nod, meeting his dark gaze. “There was a man I met at a bar in Italy, he was attractive and polite and…”

“Did you want to fuck him, Sophie? Did you want him to put his cock inside of you?”

His possessive side makes me feel warm and flustered. “Just listen,” I admonish. “I could have slept with him, and in fact Becca encouraged it. She said still being a virgin was my choice and I could have gone through with it.”

“But you didn’t?”

I shake my head. “I knew it should be you. I want it to be you.”

He rises to his feet and pulls me up against him. My chest is flush with his and his arms wrap around my middle, crushing me to him. It steals my breath and I stand there, motionless, letting him hold onto me for dear life. The move is surprisingly tender, and I can tell my offer has struck something within him.

I can’t think of a single thing to say, but I know with resounding clarity this isn’t something that can be spoken. He needs to see my actions to understand where my loyalties lay. Just as I’m contemplating my next move, he lays his head on my shoulder, resting his cheek against the top of my breast. I can feel his breath ghosting over my nipples in soft pants. My skin heats with the nearness of him, but this isn’t sexual. It’s a sweet gesture, like he’s acknowledging my acceptance of him and all his baggage.

I begin to wrap my arms around him, but he stops me, taking my hands and holding them at my sides, linking his fingers with mine. He lifts his head from my shoulder, looking me straight in the eye. Our palms are pressed together and neither of us says a word. It feels intimate and familiar.

I hate how damaged he is, and I’m only just understanding the full depth of it in this moment. He’s normally so assured, so demanding, that this tender side of him is completely unexpected.

Our eyes remain locked together and it’s as if both of us are sharing the same thought. We’re taking one giant step forward as a couple, each baring ourselves. Him, learning to trust again, and me throwing caution to the wind with a married man. Even without the contract, he owns me, and I’d been foolish to think I could just walk away. I am his.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Bowing his head to mine, he presses a soft kiss to my lips. My eyes lazily drift closed and I part my lips, accepting him. His tongue strokes mine, inviting me to play.

After several minutes of his deep, hungry kisses, I pull away, breathless. “You said it’s been two years. That’s a long time to wait.”

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. His hands unlink from mine and travel up my arms to cup my face. “What game are you playing?” he asks, a confused edge to his voice.

“No games. Just us. You need to be able to trust the woman you’re with.”

“Of course,” he agrees.

“I’m yours, sir. Anything you want. The kinkiest thing you can dream up.” I gaze up at him, meaning every word. I feel naughty and sexual and I like it. I’ve laid myself bare and I have no idea what he’s thinking.

“If I want to bend you over and fuck you until you’re raw?”

The hungry edge to his voice is unmistakable. I want to fulfill his every desire and ease this tension between us more than I want my next breath. “Anything you want,” I murmur.

“And if I want to take your tight little ass?”

My stomach flips, but my eyes remain on his. I don’t know if he’s trying to scare me, or if that’s something he actually desires. Straightening my shoulders, I respond. “Then I’m game. I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

“Are you sure about this? Because once I’m buried inside you, I won’t be able to stop.”

“I’m sure.” At least I think I am. “When do we start?” I ask.

“Now.”

His harsh tone startles me. And the heat in the room seems to ratchet up several degrees. “Do you want my mouth?” I ask, lowering myself to my knees on the plush carpeting.

“No.” He gazes down at me, and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “As tempting as this pretty little mouth of yours is, I need to fuck you.”

A gasp out a strangled breath. I’d forgotten how explicit he could be about his needs. The sweet tender Colton is gone. The man standing before me is all masculine strength and domineering presence.

I swallow and give a tight nod.