The Good Liar (Infidelity #1)

by C.P. Harris

“It’s mine. If anyone calls you that, you tell them it belongs to me. That you belong to me.”

My skin burned in all the places he’d touched before. I burned everywhere.

Even the thunderstorm had held its breath for him.

For forcing me to relive cum-streaked handprints on walls, and nights of howling my pleasure into a thunderstorm while being fucked on my hands and knees as my tears scattered the earth alongside the rain.

He was a slut, a virgin, the devil, and an angel rolled into one. A case study in contradictions, leaving my cock hard and my heart soft as putty.

I’d do bad things with a clear head to have him.

I needed him to take, to make me pay for whatever he could come up with, even if the transgression had to be imagined. I needed to choke on my breaths, and die a thousand deaths in his arms, at his hands. I needed to lose control, to have it stolen from me. I needed to be robbed of free will.

I was a ball of repression, of pent-up aggression, and he was pleasant, a tranquil sea, when what I needed was a fucking tornado to come through and rip everything down to its foundation, including me.

“I like my men submissive with only the occasional flare of temper in bed for those moments when I’d rather take than be given. Because sometimes, I like to fight for what’s mine.”

you were a flame ready to burn everything down.

“You’re such a beautiful contradiction,”

“You’re mine. This was inevitable. And I never want his fucking hands on you again.”

Yes. That was our safeword, because we both loved it when he ignored my no’s.

No shyness. No games of innocence and virginity. No sweet, blushing submissive today. “Fuck me like you miss me, Cole,” I whined at the back of my throat, needing him to do his worst. “Mark me, tear my flesh from my goddamn bones.”

It was anger, pining, pain. It was all those things, but also the washing away of it all, too. It was breaking ourselves down so we could build ourselves up into something new, something more. It was stakes being raised, claims being made, lines I’d drawn between us in the goddamn sand being erased. It was possession unleashed.

A storm could’ve blown through the windows right then, and we’d have kept fucking as shards of glass rained down on us. A war could have raged around us at that very moment, and we’d fuck to our deaths. Not even a fire burning through the building, scorching and tumbling the walls, burying us in its wreckage could’ve stopped the unbreakable reconnection we were forging. I’d have risked my life through it all to see things through.