Little Lies by Elena Reyes (popular romance novels txt) 📕

Warm fingertips glide up my thighs and hips, pausing just long enough to dig their nails in deeper, earning a hiss from me. I’m sensitive—I’m desperate—while the man behind me continues his torture.

His bare chest is against my naked back. My chest is on display to the open air inside a room that today promises pleasure, not pain or fear.

The walls still drip in red.

The furniture is still black and gothic.

The air is sweet, yet death lingers at its door.

And yet, I’m home. So at peace as I throw my head back and moan my approval, my hips gyrating against a strong torso with nothing covering his manhood or my slick little holes.

I’m ready for him. Need him in a way that’s borderline psychotic, but I’m made to wait as lips trail up my neck, pausing over my veins which throb in time with the pulsing of my clit.

“Always, my pretty girl.” Another pass, another open-mouthed kiss, yet this time his right hand rakes down the center of my chest, leaving a fiery trail behind that makes me shiver. My skin feels flushed and my bottom lip is caught between my teeth, and right as I decide to turn my head—to see my lover—his teeth nip me. “Don’t, Gabriella. Do that again, and I stop.”

“I need it.”

“Soon, but not yet.” The room is cold and my nipples tighten further, the little peaks craving the attention they don’t get. This is the third pass of his fingers just over my hips, almost featherlike—

“Oh God,” I cry out, my entire body coiling as his large hand cups my core, thick fingers parting my lips. They slide from my entrance to my sensitive nub, creating the most delicious friction. “Please.”

“Please what?” It’s a deep rumble up his chest, the vibration traveling through me. “Tell me.”

“I need you.” My confession is met with a hum before a fingertip slips inside, my entrance clenching—trying to pull it in deeper, but I’m being denied time and time again, and frustration sets in. “Or maybe I don’t. Maybe all I need is...oh fuck!”

Another finger enters me, and his pace isn’t gentle like a second ago. Now, he slams in and out in a punishing pace, the palm of his hand smacking my clit with each stroke.

My thighs tremble, walls pulsing as he hits a spot inside I’ve heard about but never experienced.

Something unintelligible leaves me—a moan or grunt, I don’t know—because every cell in my body is coiling tight. Tighter, almost violently, and then nothing, not a damn thing as he pulls them out just when my orgasm was prickling near.

“You were saying?” the man snarls while placing those wet fingers, my scent, around my throat. I try to turn my head, to see him, but they tighten a bit and I feel it everywhere. My skin tingles, goose bumps dancing along my sweat-slick flesh as I’m denied once again.

“I—”

“Belong to you.”

“Please.” I’m begging. Needing the release more than my next breath.

“Say it, Gabriella. Say you belong to me.” His cock slips between my wet thighs, rubbing the length of my slick labia as another rush of wetness leaves me. Christ, he feels good. Too good, and my eyes roll back when the blunt head caresses my entrance. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Always, pretty girl.” And then he slams into me, and I’m left on the precipice of pleasure and pain. On this thin ledge where everything around me stills and my screams echo through the vast space.

I’m floating. My body feels sensitive and wet, and there’s a burning sensation on my chest that contrasts against the bliss between my thighs. The two merge and overwhelm my senses while this man I’ve yet to see face to face takes me like a savage beast.

Each stroke is punishing, his cock pistoning in and out while I can barely stand. There’s no lead-up. No way to describe the sudden wave of euphoria I experience when his sweaty chest vibrates with his groan, the sound of his pleasure breaking me into a million pieces.

He fucks me harder. He’s merciless and I come, pushing my hips back and meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Good girl. Let me feel you.”

“You have me.” The response leaves me before I can understand what I’m promising. To whom. Because all I know in that singular instance is that I don’t want this to end. To lose him.

“Not yet.”

My brows furrow as my walls contract around him, pulling him in deeper. “Not yet?”

“Not until you see what I see.” His hold on my neck tightens and his mouth presses against my ear, his exhale rough. His cock stretches me a little more, and I raise onto the tips of my toes. “I’ll have you, Gabriella. But first, I need you to focus…look down, pretty girl. Feel me come, coat you with my seed, as reality hits.”

I follow his instructions and scream.

Red. All I see is red. All of it coming from me.

From a gash deep across my chest that bathes the room in my life’s essence.

I’m bleeding out. My skin is flayed open, and a burning coldness fills me—I’m suddenly freezing and can barely breathe. Each hollowed breath hurts, and yet I’m aware of his come dripping down my labia and thighs.

Aware of the tender way, he places a kiss just below my ear.

It’s all I can cling to as my knees go weak.

As my vision starts to fade and just before darkness claims me, I hear him one last time. “They did this to us.”

My eyes snap open, and a scream rips from my throat. I’m shaking, clutching my chest with my left hand while the right is trapped between my clenching thighs.

I still feel him. It was so real.

Small aftershocks course through my body without my permission while my mind can’t escape the image of me bleeding out. The gash—the burning sensation accompanied with a steadying pain—while his cock flexed against my walls.

This is too much. Not normal.

Am I suffering from night terrors?

Because what