Ruin Me With Lies, page 25
“Normal is overrated.” He traces his thumb along the underside of my bottom lip. “Average people are given average lives. Extraordinary people are given extraordinary lives. And you, my little liar, are anything but fucking average.” He leans in, close enough that only a thread of air separates our lips. “Breathe on me, beautiful.”
Jesus, I’m a melted puddle.
Parting my lips, I breathe across his.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Who sent you?”
“I came on my own,” I exhale, warmth coating his lips.
“Tell me,” he demands in earnest. “Tell me why.”
For you.
As it tends to do in the most inconvenient of times, his phone rings.
“Maybe I should confiscate your phone,” I grumble.
With a frustrated groan, he gets up and answers, disappearing from the room.
Left alone, aroused and repressed and seriously on edge, I flop back against the couch and prop my feet up. This is one sumptuously comfortable couch. Massive and cloudy, it swallows me whole.
“You have the best couches,” I say when Stefano returns a few minutes later. “Who builds them for you?”
“A guy,” is all he offers.
“Gate-keep much?”
“Black Gold’s going to be overflowing tonight because of the storm, and I’m staying in,” he tells me. “So those idiots are going to be calling me for everything.” He drops onto the couch beside me, and I wait for him to pull me back into him, but he crosses his arms behind his head instead. “Need to get in a quick nap. Phone’s on DND for an hour. Wake me up in thirty.”
Feeling bereft of his touch, I ask, “You’re napping here?”
He nods, then jerks his chin toward a built-in compartment on the left. “You’ll find Bluetooth earphones, tablets, and remotes in there. The earphones are already synced to the TV, if you’re a TV person.”
“I’m not.” I lift a brow. “My phone would be better.”
“No.” He studies me for a beat, his hot gaze roaming all over my face. “Thirty minutes.”
With that, he closes his eyes.
And within five minutes, he’s out. Features relaxed, breathing evened out. Just like that.
Only people with a clear conscience, clean hands, no demons to haunt them, no regrets to gnaw at them, no guilt in their blood, should be able to fall asleep this easily. So how the hell does this menace do it? Just closes his eyes and falls asleep as if he’s never so much as stepped on an ant in his entire life.
Glancing at the wall clock, I take note of the time, then fish out the remotes and earphones from the built-in compartment. Might as well try to find something on this giant, brain-rotting box to keep me occupied.
Although he’s taken my phone, I still have my laptop upstairs in my bag. But I’m way too comfortable here. Next to him.
So, brain-rotting entertainment it is.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Raya
IN THE END, WATCHING Stefano sleep turns out to be far more entertaining than anything playing on the flat screen.
It’s utterly fascinating how pure and harmless he looks asleep. Makes me want to pinch his cheeks and nuzzle his perfect nose.
Thirty minutes passed five minutes ago, but I haven’t woken him yet. I’m selfish like that. And as I drink him in a little longer, the sinuous shape of sin slithers between us, curling into a sultry suggestion, a lascivious thought.
Biting my lip, I drag my gaze down past the gentle rise and fall of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, all the way to the waistband of his lounge pants, and…
I give in.
Instead of fighting a losing battle, instead of leaving it all up to him, I decide to take what I want. I’m aware of the hypocrisy here, the double standard. But I’ve never claimed to be a good person.
Gingerly, I crawl down and press a kiss to the defined dip of his V. And then another. Soft, lingering kisses, one after the next, across his pelvis until I reach the other dip on the opposite side.
Stefano stirs, but doesn’t wake.
Hooking two fingers inside the waistband of his pants, I slowly pull them down, inch by inch. Until he’s out.
My heart hammers in my clavicle at the sight of him. Semi-hard, cleanly groomed, and so damn deliciously inviting.
Wetting my lips, lusty and eager, I lean in and press kisses around the base of his gorgeous cock.
A low groan rumbles from his chest, and he stirs again. This time with a long, slow blink.
His lazy, lidded gaze drifts down just as I run my tongue up the underside of his cock. “What—mhhm…”
He twitches, a reflexive reaction, and I flatten my tongue, dragging another slow, deliberate lick all the way to the tip, peering up at him through my lashes.
Dark eyes shift into molten heat as he reaches down, brushing his fingertips gently against my cheek, as if checking that I’m real.
“I thought...” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “I thought I was dreaming.”
To assure him just how real this is, I swirl my tongue in a slow dance around his swollen head before taking him into my mouth. Just the tip for now.
“Ahhshit,” he hisses, hips jerking up in a sharp, helpless thrust.
I dawdle, playing with him, teasing along the veins, lapping at the slit, tasting his pre-cum.
Groans roll deep from his chest, his brows pinched as he gazes down at me, like he’s still not convinced this is real, as if any second now he might wake up.
Hmm. Am I not doing a good enough job? Challenge accepted.
Sheathing my teeth, I bob down on him, taking in as much as I can, then begin sucking him with purpose. Slow, rhythmic, deliberate. Drawing on every technique learned in my handful of sexual experiences.
“Gesù Cristo,” he breathes, voice ragged, gritty, as he cradles the back of my head. “If—shit, baby…if I’d known you were this good with your mouth—ahhfuck.”
Wrapping both hands around him, fingers snug but gentle, I twist in opposite directions as I suck and shine his head.
“Motherfucker, what the—” His fingers tighten in my hair, his hips snapping upward. “Shit, I’m gonna….”
No, not yet. Not when I’m having so much fun. Right now, in this moment, he’s my toy.
Slow and deliberate, I ease up on the intensity. Then peer up at him with a teasing smile as I playfully tap his cock against my lips.
“You little…” he trails and throws his head back with a tortured laugh, like he’s contemplating all the ways he’s going to punish me for this later.
I stroke him lazily from base to tip, just enough to keep him from losing it. A thick bead of pre-cum oozes from the tip, and I smear it across my lips like gloss, dragging him back and forth over my mouth.
Reveling in the gravelly sounds of his torture, I lick and swirl and fondle and squeeze and tease…getting high off the sounds of his unraveling.
“Enjoying yourself down there?” he grits out, voice strangled and shaking with restraint. “You fucking—fuck...”
I massage his jewels with one hand, while the other caresses his swollen, reddened head, until more precum seeps out for me to lap up like it’s an elixir for immortality
Stefano groans deep, then curses through clenched teeth. “Keep fucking around and I’ll get up and fuck your mouth the way I think liars deserve.” His grip tightens in my hair. “If you’re not ready to feel my cock pounding the back of your throat, then suck my dick like the filthy little liar you are and make me fucking come.”
Nope. I’m definitely not ready for this unjustly large cock to be hammering the back of my throat.
Putting an end to my playtime, I swallow him down in one clean motion, deep-throating him with intension. And a raw, guttural groan reverberates from him.
Easing up a little, I fist him again and fall into a sweet rhythm, sucking and pumping in tandem. Working him like he’s truly mine.
Until his grunts grow deeper and his long legs become restless.
“You work my cock like you fucking own it, beautiful,” he grits out. “You really are a Delilah, aren’t you? Sucking my cock so damn good to make me—holy…fuck—”
He taps my shoulder in warning, but I don’t move. His cock becomes hard as steel, the twitch and tightening at the base signaling his imminent release.
He taps me again, more urgently now. But instead of backing off, I take him deep again, until the tip hits the back of my throat.
A curse explodes from him as thick, hot liquid spills down my throat, his cock pulsing heavily against my tongue with each twisting wave.
Only when he’s emptied and his fingers loosen in my hair do I pull back and lick up every trace left behind. Once he’s clean, I tug his pants back up and sit back on my heels.
My lips are no doubt glistening with his taste, and I love it. I would suck him off all evening if he’d let me.
Medical wise, he’s squeaky clean. In perfect health. So I have no qualms licking up every drop of him.
Chest rising and falling, eyes heavy-lidded and dazed, he gazes down at me like he’s trying to solve an unsolvable equation. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Delilah?”
I shrug. “You asked me to wake you up.”
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Not the wake-up call I was expecting, but I prefer your methods. Five stars. Highly recommend.”
Fighting back a satisfied smile, I start to crawl away, but he catches my wrist and tugs me forward.
With firm hands, he clasps my hips and guides me astride him. My clit throbs as it settles against his semi.
Eyes drinking me in, he runs his hands slowly up my bare thighs, sliding under my dress. “You won’t believe me if I said I didn’t bring you here to fuck you. That I just wanted to stay in and spend time with you. Get to know you. Understand you. But now…” His voice dips as he squeezes my thighs, his lust-filled eyes fixed on my lips. “You’ve opened the door…given me a taste…of what that pretty little mouth can do.”
His hands move from my thighs up to the sweetheart neckline of my dress. One traces the curved edge, while the other tugs gently at the fabric. Little by little, inch by inch, until the soft pink of my areolas peeks out…and eventually, my taut nipples.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers hoarsely when my breasts are fully bare, tucking the neckline beneath them. “Perfect.”
And then his hands are on them, squeezing, twisting, flicking, fondling. Worshiping.
My nipples are achingly tight, my stomach twisting into delicious knots, my clit swollen and heavy. My whole body alive in every way.
Stefano is in his own world, having a private party with my girls. While I’m on fire. Losing my damn mind.
My hips undulate, chasing friction against my throbbing clit.
“Rosy pink lips…rosy pink nipples…” he muses, almost to himself. “I bet your…”
Abruptly, he sits up, grips my waist, and flips us so I’m on my back and he’s between my thighs. His head lowers and I exhale a light gasp when he sucks a nipple into his mouth.
“Ohhh, yes,” I breathe in a rush.
He cups my breasts, pushing them together as his mouth moves between them. Licking, teasing, nipping. Every motion slow, sure, deliberate. Such careful attention. Such tenderness. I’m…caught off guard by it.
Never did I imagined he could be this soft, this gentle. I could melt into this couch. All this does is make me want him more.
He starts moving down my body, pushing my dress up as he goes, scattering kisses across my stomach, fueling the fire already unfurling beneath my skin.
Mind foggy with want, with need, I writhe beneath him, desperate moans escaping me.
As his tongue swirls in my navel, his hand slips between my thighs, rubbing over my satin panties, soaked and clinging to my swollen flesh. Massaging me through the fabric, he shifts up my body until his lips are hovering just above mine.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks in a low, hungry whisper.
I part my lips, the yes on the tip of my tongue, eager to surrender to him. But by asking me, he just gave me something back: a sliver of control. A choice.
As much as I want his mouth on mine, I’m going to hold on to that sliver for as long as I can. “No.”
Indignation sparks like embers in his eyes, nostrils flaring. “You guzzled down my cum like it’s fucking vodka, but you won’t let me kiss you?”
There. That’s the beauty of keeping some control, no matter how minuscule. To be able to do that to him. “I—”
He presses the heel of his palm against my pussy.
“Ohhh, dear god! Stefa—”
Applying pressure, he rubs slow, grinding circles, and a mortifying keen escapes my throat. “Mhhhm, ohhh, don’t stop…”
“Tell me I can kiss you,” he breathes, voice thick with restraint. “Say it.”
“N-no.”
He hates that. Hates the rejection. Hates me.
Abruptly, he stops and drops back onto his knees. Then, with slow purpose, he lowers the waistband of his pants until his rock-hard cock bobs out. Eyes locked on mine, he fists himself and begins stroking in long, lazy pulls.
Chest heaving, stomach twisting with desire, I lick my lips, watching him through the thick haze of lust.
For a moment, I think he’s going to punish me by denying me pleasure. But then he leans in and rubs the length of his cock over my soaked satin panties, dragging across my slit with every slow, deliberate glide.
“Yes, yes…please...”
As he flexes his hips, gliding back and forth against me, coating himself with my wetness, he grips my thighs and presses them as far apart as they’ll go.
Praise be I’m flexible, otherwise he would’ve broken me.
“Look at you...” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You’re fucking drenched.”
With a gritty groan, he grips my panties and yanks them upward until they bunch into a tight strip right between my lips, covering only my clit.
In controlled, maddening motions, he uses the material to stimulate my clit in the most mind-shattering ways. Little pulls and tugs and rotations that hit just right, driving me insane.
“Ohmygodohmygod…Ohmy—Stefano. What are y-you—ohhhmygod! Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
“Rosy pink…pretty…juicy…” he murmurs, sounding dazed, as if he’s in a world of his own. “You’ve got a pretty peachy pussy, Delilah.”
He scoops up some of my arousal with his fingers, lifts it to his mouth, and licks them clean. “You taste even prettier.”
With a guttural moan, he shifts my panties aside. My swollen, glistening pussy now fully exposed.
“Fucking look at you, my pretty liar.” He curses under his breath. “All slippery and dripping for me. You want me inside you, don’t you?”
“Yes. Please,” I gasp, teetering on the edge.
He taps the head of his cock against my clit, again and again, until I’m trembling. Hot skin on skin, he glides forward, back and forth, driving me to the brink.
“Inside…” I beg. “Please…”
But he doesn’t give me that. He instead quickens his pace, sliding through the mess between my thighs, stopping now and then to press back the hood of my clit and circle his tip over the bare, sensitive nub. Drives me right to the edge, then yanks me back. Torturing me.
It has to be payback for playing with him earlier. But if he drags me to the brink one more time and doesn’t let me come, I might black out.
The sounds leaving my mouth are flat-out shameless, my toes curled impossibly tight. I’m soaked to the point that slick is dripping down my ass. My clit so damn swollen with the need for release that my vision’s starting to blur. I’ve never felt pleasure like this before. I don’t even know what to do.
Stefano suddenly pulls my panties back into place, straightening the material over my pussy and his cock. All while still grinding through my folds. Still gliding, still teasing. Never letting up on me.
“A beautiful sight, isn’t it?” he rasps, eyes locked on where we meet. Mesmerized.
As tightly wound and barely conscious as I am, he’s right.
We are beautiful together. His thick cock buried under the ruby-red satin of my panties, sliding back and forth, my quivering thighs smeared with arousal. The sight’s almost enough to make me implode.
He presses his palm down over his cock, adding pressure, so the weight of him hits my clit just right, providing the perfect friction for me, and a vice for himself.
The moment he begins thrusting, pressurizing the experience, I’m done for.
My back arches off the couch, neck craning into the cushions, and a hoarse, scratchy sound bursts from my throat as the orgasm slams into me like a freight truck. I’m gone. Shaking, shuddering, a garbled mess of limbs and sound and overload.
But he doesn’t stop. Keeps thrusting against my clit, which intensifies and prolongs my orgasm. It goes on and on…
I claw and grasp at whatever my hands can find, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure refuses to end.
“Ohgod…ohhhgod…you have to stop. You have to stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Stefano, you have to stop… Don’t… don’t stop…I need…I’m—”
A harsh curse rips out of him, and the pressure finally lets up just as warmth floods my panties, soothing my raging clit. Strings of jumbled praise tumble from him as he comes, muttering about how rosy I am, how pretty I smell, how peachy I taste.
If I wasn’t completely obliterated, strung out from the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, I might laugh. But I’m just grateful for the reprieve from the intense storm of ecstasy he just dragged me through.
Falling back into the cushions, I suck in a shaky breath. “Wow... just wow.”
Stefano moves above me, lips hovering over mine. “Have I earned your lips yet?”
Parting mine, I exhale a slow breath across his. He closes his eyes and takes it in like it’s a hit of something illegal.
“You flooded my panties with your cum,” I murmur as his eyes reopen. “Lift me up before I stain your couch.”
