Page 58 of A Lethal Game of Trust

He turned it on and looked me up and down just as I did to him.

“I want to hear, see, feel you. I need to see your face as you come—ah, here it is,” he said, ripped the wrapper off and sheathed his cock. “How many of these have you got?” he asked as he unravelled it.

“Three more in my room,” I told him, tapping my toes against the coffee table, getting impatient.

“We’ll get some more,” he said and leaned over me.

“More? I thought your results come through tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what time tomorrow.”

If the prospect of us having sex three more times in the next twenty-four hours didn’t have my body ache for it, I may have laughed.

“Lie down,” he demanded, all the casual conversation gone from his voice.

I did as I was told, nibbling on my bottom lip.

“It should have been me,” he said, running his hands up my thighs. “I should have been the first to touch you. The first to taste you,” he ducked to run his tongue up my slit and I squirmed into his mouth. But it was just as he said, just a taste. Which he then shared with me as he kissed me, his tongue passing the flavour onto mine. “I should have been the first to fuck you.”

And he pressed into me, through to the hilt in one motion. I cried and shuddered at the intrusion. By the third stroke, I was ready and eager for more. But his thrusts were slow, pulling out so only the head of him stretched me wide. Then he’d slam in and my whole body would jerk, my tits bounce, my head spin. The only thing that didn’t move was our unwavering eye contact.

I pulled his hand to my throat and forced his grip to tighten. And it was all he needed to unleash himself. He pounded into me until I was wailing, crying, shouting for more.

Each time, he somehow managed to give it.

He pulled my legs up onto his shoulders and I yelped at how deep he was.

He filled me so completely.

“Fucking hell, Leonie,” he groaned and his fingers found my clit, not at all like how I had played with myself earlier.

His touch was rough and controlled at the same time. Measured and ruthless.

When I came, I shuddered and thrashed against him.

“Tell me,” he growled. “Who makes you come better? Me or you?”

“You,” I ground out. “You. You.”

It became a chant as he carried on, his breath in my ear, his teeth on my neck, his hands all over me. He held me, arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me so I dangled in the air, so he could rock me into him.

18

Another Man’s Name

Leonie

I was absolutely spent. We had one condom left.

I ran my hand between my legs only to wince at just how sore I was. The deepest sleep hadn’t managed to cure everything.

Dom was on my phone — clearly, he knew my dad’s birthday — looking at a little grey dot flashing on maps. His other arm was under my neck, his thumb brushing my shoulder in small strokes.

“Did Issy not come back?” I asked, half-dazed.

Though he was frowning at the screen, my voice was light and relieved. Because I knew I’d been so loud that she could have walked in and I wouldn’t have heard.

He shook his head. “She never listens to me.”