Page 119 of Cruel Lies

The strokes begin. His eyes never leave mine. It's the most attention anyone has ever paid to me in my entire life, and it's happening while he's buried inside me.

"Look at you," he murmurs, dragging his hips against mine in a slow, filthy grind that hits somewhere I didn't know existed. "Taking all of me. Like you were built for it."

"I wasn't," I pant. "I definitely wasn't."

"Oh, yes, you were." He kisses me hard, tongue lashing against mine. "You just didn't know it yet."

And then he stops talking and starts moving like he means it.

Each stroke forces me up the bed and he follows, one hand braced by my head, the other gripping my hip like he owns it. Maybe he does. Right now, I'd sign whatever he put in front of me.

"Ronan," I gasp. "I'm close. I'm close again."

"I know. I can feel it." He grinds down into me, hitting that spot over and over. "Give it to me. Right here. Looking at me."

I hold his eyes like he told me to. It's harder than anything. I want to close them, throw my head back, but he wants me looking, so I look. And that's what does it. Watching him watch me. The patience. The care.

I dig my nails into his back to ground myself as I erupt, clenching around him so hard he groans and stops moving for a second, just to feel it.

I'm still shaking when he pulls out of me. I make a small, sad sound at the loss.

"Don't worry," he says. "We're not done."

Then he rolls, taking me with him, and suddenly, I'm on top. He's flat on his back, hands settling on my thighs.

"Ride me," he commands.

"I— I?—"

I've never been on top. Todd didn't like it. I don't know if I know how.

He must see the confusion on my face, because he says, "You know how. Just take what you need. I want to watch you please yourself for once."

I'm still nervous, but he seems to believe in me, so I do what he says. I sink down onto him slow, my hands flat on his chest, and take him inch by inch until I'm sitting on him, full, stretched, trembling. He hisses through his teeth.

"See? You know what you want. Fuckingtake it,Calista."

I start to move. It's awkward at first, then better, then good, then incredible. I find a rhythm, rolling my hips, losing myself in it.

I feel powerful.

I feel like a woman who takes what she wants.

Then his thumb finds my clit.

And just like that, I'm on the verge again.

"Keep moving," he orders, circling slow. "Don't stop."

The two things together—the skittering high of the clit pressure and the aching fullness of his penis inside me—are too much and exactly enough. I ride him harder, chasing it, until it happens all over.

I break apart for the third time and flop forward like my spine has lost the war against gravity. He grips my hips and holds me there through all of it, dragging every last second out of me until I collapse onto his chest, spent.

He's still hard inside me. I can feel it, patient, waiting, like everything else about him.

"You're going to be the death of me," I mumble into his chest.

"Not yet." His hand strokes down my spine. "I'm not finished,kotyonok."