Liars Like Us (Morally Gray Book 1)
Liars Like Us: Chapter 19

I wake in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar soreness between my legs and a feeling of dread hanging over me like thunderclouds. I look around in confusion. It takes a moment for my brain to kick into gear. When it does, I groan and close my eyes.

I had sex with my husband.

Rough, passionate, filthy hot sex, which I loved with every ounce of my being.

This has heartbreak written all over it.

“Good morning.”

I tilt my head toward the husky voice near my right ear and look up into Callum’s face. I’m lying against his nude body, tucked under his arm with one of my legs resting over his and an arm thrown over his broad chest.

We’re cuddling? What a disaster.

Feeling embarrassed and a little shy, I say, “Good morning. Where am I?”

“Our bedroom.”

“Right. I suppose I should’ve recognized the girly floral prints and dainty antique furniture. What am I doing here?”

“Why wouldn’t you be here?”

“I should be in my own bedroom.”

“You are in your own bedroom.”

When I open my mouth to protest that my room is the green guest room, he adds, “End of discussion.”

“Aw, that’s cute. You actually believe that, don’t you?”

Rolling me onto my back, he settles himself on top of me and stares down into my face.

“I’m not intimidated by that look, Callum.”

“You should be.”

“Annoyance always gives me courage. I can’t breathe with you on top of me like this. You weigh as much as a small European car.”

“That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever been given.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I love it when you glare at me like that. Small evil things are my favorite.”

“Get a Chihuahua. What are you going to tell your police chief buddy when I suffocate to death?”

He smiles. “That you died happy.”

I close my eyes and sigh.

Lowering his head, he whispers into my ear, “Your mouth is heaven.”

I feel my cheeks heating, but don’t open my eyes. A Technicolor highlight reel of last night’s fun starts to play under my lids.

“I have something to say.”

He chuckles. “There you go with the announcements again.”

“Be quiet. Okay, here it is.”

When I hesitate, he says, “Are you going to open your eyes for this?”

“No.”

“It’s that bad that you can’t look me in the eye?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I don’t know. Be quiet!”

He drops his face to my neck and smothers a laugh.

Happy Callum is interesting. And confusing. How many personalities does this man have?

“So here’s the thing. I enjoyed last night. A lot. Which you could probably tell by all the screaming. Anyway…” I clear my throat. “This is the strangest relationship I’ve ever had. Which is saying something, because my taste in men tends to run to walking red flags with good hair. But I don’t do well with ambiguity, and mysteries don’t intrigue me. They just make my anxiety worse. So I’m going to ask a question, and I’d appreciate it if you’d be brutally honest in your answer.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, I brace myself. “I know we said don’t-ask-don’t-tell, but how many other people are you sleeping with?”

There’s a moment of silence where I can tell he’s looking at me. Then he rolls to his back, taking me with him and wrapping his arms around me. I tuck my head under his chin to hide. He strokes my hair, his chest warm under my cheek.

“None. You?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. And go back. None?”

“None.”

“Are you sure?”

He says drily, “I think I’d remember.”

“What I meant was, are you sure that’s your final answer? Because I’m going to freak out either way. It’s fine if you tell me the truth.”

Grasping my chin, he forces me to look at him. Staring into my eyes, he says, “I’m not fucking anyone but you.”

I can tell he’s sincere. My toes curl in pleasure. The relief I feel is so sweet, I sigh.

I hate myself.

“Okay, next question.”

“There are more? Wonderful.”

“Don’t sound so depressed. Next question: do you have any diseases I should know about? Of the sexual sort, I mean.”

His stomach muscles clench. He presses his lips together. He’s trying not to laugh and doing a shit job of it.

“STDs aren’t funny, Callum.”

“No, but your timing is.”

“I couldn’t exactly ask you in the middle of all the spanking and raunchy talk, now, could I?”

“I don’t recall taping your mouth shut.”

“Just answer the damn question!”

“Also no. Fuck, you’re adorable when you’re like this.”

“Like what? And choose your words carefully, because my knee is within striking distance of your balls.”

He decides to answer by rolling us over again so he’s on top of me, smashing me with all his glorious manly weight. Not that I’ll tell him I enjoy it, because he’s already enough of a monster. Then he kisses me deeply, holding my head in his hands.

When we come up for air, he says gruffly, “I need to fuck you again.”

“I like that plan, but we need to talk about some things first. No, don’t flex your hips. That’s distracting. And stop kissing my neck. I have more questions.”

“So go ahead and ask them.”

He bites my neck, then slides his hand down to my chest and starts to fondle my breast.

“I’ll forget what I was saying if you keep doing that.”

Pinching my nipple, he chuckles. “Hopefully.”

I shiver in pleasure, loving the feel of his rough cheek against my neck and his rough hand on my body. I could get addicted to this very quickly.

Sliding my arms up around his shoulders, I say, “How did you get that signed copy of Outlander?”

“I’m me.”

“You say that like it’s a reasonable answer.”

“It is.”

He bends his head to my breast and sucks my hard nipple into his mouth. I stifle a moan and close my eyes, trying to concentrate.

“Um. Where was I?”

“Spreading your legs.”

He reaches down and pulls my leg up next to his hip, so his erection is nestled between my thighs. It’s huge, hot, and hard.

All the good words start with the letter H.

“Oh, I remember. Where did you go so suddenly after we got married?”

“Work.”

He pulls my other leg up, so my thighs are spread open around his hips. He reaches between us, takes his stiff cock in his hand, and starts to rub the head back and forth between my legs.

“Work?” I repeat breathlessly. “You were gone for almost a week.”

“I had to go to Prague.”

I want to ask what’s in Prague, but get distracted by the way he’s nipping my nipple. When he slides the head of his cock inside me, I gasp.

Against my breast, he murmurs, “Be a good girl and ask for my dick.”

“Or you could be a good boy and just give it to me.”

He presses his teeth harder into my nipple, but if he thinks that’s a punishment, he’s crazy. I love how it feels so much, I moan. Then I wriggle my hips to try to get him deeper inside me.

He growls, “Do what you’re told.”

“You’re not in charge of me.”

“The hell I’m not.”

He flexes his hips, giving me another inch, stretching me wider. Desperate for more, I moan again, pulling at his hair.

“See?”

“Oh, look, you’re being smug again. What a surprise.”

Grabbing one of my wrists, he presses it against the pillow above my head. Then he grabs the other one and traps it together with the first, clasping both in one of his big hands. Leaning on an elbow, he slides his other hand under my head and makes a fist in my hair.

His mouth close to my ear, he whispers, “Do as you’re told, wife, or I’ll fuck you, but I won’t let you come.”

Hearing him call me “wife” does strange things to me. Unsettling, emotional things. I squirm underneath him, trying to distract him long enough to get him all the way inside me without having to cave to his ridiculous demand.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t work. The man’s power of concentration is diabolical.

With sudden, shocking speed, he flips me over and starts to spank my ass.

When I cry out, he says, “I know you like this, so don’t act like you weren’t hoping it’s what you’d get.”

“I don’t!”

“Yes, you do. Let me prove it to you.”

He smooths his hand over my burning cheeks, then slides it between my legs and dips his fingers into my drenched pussy.

“Darling wife,” he whispers, laughter in his voice. “You’re such a shitty liar.”

I bury my face in the pillow and gnash my teeth. When he swirls his fingers around my clit, lazily stroking it, I shudder, loving the way it feels.

“Do you want my mouth on this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Say it.”

“What’s with this obsession with talking during sex?”

“It’s called communicating.”

“No, it’s called distracting.”

“You’re the one doing the line of questioning. Now say what I need to hear.”

I try to lift my head to turn and look at him, but he flattens me back down with a hand placed firmly between my shoulder blades and commands, “Say it.”

We’re both quiet for a moment as he works his magical fingers between my legs. My pussy is throbbing, aching to be filled. When I start to move my hips in time with the motion of his fingers, he warns, “Emery.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I say, “Please.”

“Not good enough. You know better. Say it all.”

He slides his fingers up, down, and all around, pausing every so often to rub my clit with the pad of his thumb until I’m panting.

He whispers, “Be my good girl. Come on, baby. Say it for me.”

My skin burns. My nipples tingle. I rock my hips, chasing his fingers, until he makes a low, warning growl deep in his chest, and I give in.

I say breathlessly, “I want you to eat me. I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me come. And I want you to do it right now because you’re killing me.”

For my reward, he rolls me to my back and covers my pussy with his mouth. When I arch and moan, he shoves two fingers deep inside me and starts to pump them in and out.

I dig my fingers into his hair and rock my hips against his face.

When I groan loudly, he lifts his head and says, “You need to come?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ll do it choking on my cock, then again with it stuffed inside your pussy.”

He falls onto his back, drags me on top of him, arranges me so my thighs are spread over his face and his jutting erection is inches from mine.

Then he smacks me on the ass and orders, “Suck until I tell you to stop.”

Panting, I grip the base of his hard cock and lick the slit on the crown. Callum growls his approval and shoves his tongue deep inside me. I ride it, moaning, then take him all the way down my throat.

He grunts into me, digging his fingers into my bottom as he eats my pussy. Then he slides a hand between my ass cheeks and strokes me there, growling when I mewl and shudder.

When he sinks a thick finger into my ass, I come.

“Keep sucking that cock, wife,” he hisses, thrusting his finger in and out. Then he sucks hard on my clit, making my whole body jerk.

I open my mouth as wide as I can and pull on his dick, working my hand up and down the shaft as I bob my head, mindlessly obeying him as pleasure floods through my body.

“Ah, good girl,” he pants. “That’s my good fucking girl. Come on my face.”

I can feel how wet I am and know it’s probably all over him, but can’t stop myself from frantically rocking my hips, grinding against his mouth. Something about how explicitly he speaks to me makes me feel so uninhibited.

I keep sucking on him until my jaw aches and the contractions in my pussy have stopped. Then I’m manhandled into another position, lying on my back with my ankles hooked over his shoulders.

He thrusts into me with a savage snarl, then fucks me, bending over me with my breasts gripped in his hands. He’s so impassioned, I have to hold on to his shoulders so I don’t fly up and crash into the headboard.

All the while, he stares into my eyes with a look of feverish intensity, his gaze never leaving mine.

Another contraction makes me clench around him. I moan, bucking my hips and meeting every thrust of his with one of my own.

“You’re gonna come again,” he whispers, ecstatic. “That greedy little pussy loves to get fucked by her master’s cock, doesn’t she?”

“You’re not my master,” I protest weakly, eyes rolling back in my head.

As my orgasm hits, his dark laughter rings in my ears.