Page 127 of Filthy Lies


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His hands settled at my hips, the fingers angling downwards so they splayed over my ass cheeks. He didn’t answer me, just instigated another collision of our mouths.

This time, he took charge. Lips locked, tongue drawing mine out to play, his hands tugged down on me to urge me into moving.

Slowly, I began grinding my hips, but a sharp cry escaped me the second the friction centered itself at the top of my sex, and that blast of pleasure had me seeking more.

God, how could I have forgotten that it wasn’t always about pain and misery?

There wasthis.

Joy and need and craving and desire.

There was Conor.

He encompassed it all.

He growled into my mouth as his own pleasure made itself known. I knew it was good because he started to rock back into me until we were humping on the couch like teenagers.

“Can I?” he rumbled against my lips, nipping me there, plucking the tender flesh.

Blindly, I nodded, even though I didn’t know what his next move was going to be, and in response, his hands slid up my sides, tracing the curves of my breasts before one planted between my shoulders and he used that to keep us together as he twisted us over.

Tension hit me for a split second before I was crying out as the new position let him grind harder into me, the thick notches of our denim flies adding an extra pressure that had me ripping my mouth from his to sob at the sheer fucking ecstasy that tore through me.

Even as I cried out, he didn’t stop moving. His hips continued rocking as he ducked down, lips finding my throat as he sucked along my jawline, testing the skin’s resilience as he nipped there, biting and suckling, sending pinpricks of sensation tumbling along my nerve endings.

Head rocking from side to side, I dropped my hands to his ass and gave as much as I got before I started keening out my pleasure, stunned by the intensity, mind blown by the power of the sensations he triggered in my core.

When his lips returned to mine, he consumed me in a fire that was perfumed with the scent of oranges and cinnamon.

I could feel it—waiting for me in the wings.

There.

Right there.

God, so close.

But, not close enough.

I moaned against his mouth as I squirmed harder, trying to find something that had always been so easy before, something that I’d taken for granted in the past.

My heart started pounding, my skin felt flushed, and the specter of ecstasy was excruciating.

My body began to ache both from exertion and need. It was there. So close. Yet so far. His fingers dug into me, encouraging me,guidingme, and all along, he kissed me as if there were no tomorrow.

Just as I feared it wasn’t going to happen, it bombarded me when he did this thing with his hips, moving them in a circle that hitright.

When I screamed out my orgasm, ecstasy shooting through my extremities, I felt his movements turn frantic until he choked out a groan that merely augmented my enjoyment.

His rocking switched from smooth to jerky, and then that groan turned guttural, the vibrations making my lips tingle as he continued to kiss me, ravishing my mouth as he took me further than some guys had when I was fully naked and being fucked.

And even as we came down from that, he continued kissing me.

Softer, this time. Not as hungry. But still needy. His mouth clung to mine and mine to his. We ate from each other, finding warmth and comfort and, God help me,lovein the eternal tangle of our tongue, teeth, and lips.

When he started to pull back, I gripped his shoulders and held him to me, my legs slipping around him to clutch at him tighter.

His soft, contented chuckle had my eyes popping open, but I didn’t chide him for laughing at my expense. Just watched those pupils of his return to normal as he turned us over so we were lying much as we’d done earlier—me curled into him like I’d known him for decades, as if I’d trusted him since the beginning of time itself.

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