Beautiful Liar Page 8

  “You’ve liked me licking your cunt,” he said. “But I haven’t yet tasted your cum. I haven’t heard you scream my name.”

  He pushed my knees up and back, his gaze settling on my exposed sex.

  “Tonight, you come, MacKayla, because tonight, I need to be inside you.”

  I grabbed the headboard as he lowered his head and brought his expert tongue to my pussy, sucking on my swollen clit.

  “Oh fuck, Slater.”

  It wouldn’t take me long. I’d been wound up ever since being onstage, then the lap dance, and now, here, with his mouth on my pussy… I closed my eyes, gripped the rungs of the board as if for dear life, and came, calling out his name as he sucked harder, adding a finger inside me and another tickling my ass.

  HER HEART JACKHAMMERED inside her chest, beating against my ear as I laid my head down to listen, the taste of her on my tongue, her gasps filling my ears as she still pressed her greedy little cunt against me, shuddering every so often.

  I straightened and reached into the bedside table for a condom before peeling off my briefs. I watched MacKayla as she lowered her gaze to look at my stiff cock. She licked her lips. I loomed over her, rolling the condom over my cock before taking her legs and pushing them wider, taking them over her head. Her cunt gaped open, a glistening pink in the dim light coming in from the streetlamp. I’d hated that fucking lamp when I’d moved in. It kept me awake. But now, I loved it because I could see her face, see her pussy, see her want me. Need me.

  I rubbed my cock through her wet folds. Slowly, inch by inch, all the while watching her as she stretched for me, I took her, the warm, wet walls of her pussy tight around my cock. I pumped slowly, pushing her legs wider, and MacKayla closed her eyes.

  “No. Open and on me. I want to see you.”

  She obeyed without a word, moaning as she bit into her lower lip.

  “You like getting fucked, don’t you?”

  “By you.”

  Her clarification made my cock that much harder.

  “I’ll still punish you. You’re going to like that too, though, aren’t you?”

  Something between want and apprehension flickered through her eyes momentarily, but I pushed in to the hilt, and it was gone. I pulled out slowly until just the very tip of my cock was inside her. “Right now, I need to fuck you. I need to be inside you.”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded, lost when I thrust hard.

  I released her legs and laid more of my weight on her, then took her wrists and spread her arms wide, watching her take me before kissing her again, her mouth tasting too good. She opened to me, her fingers reaching to touch mine as I began to fuck her harder, faster, tension building inside me as my cock thickened. She arched her hips and closed her eyes, making that sound she made before she’d come when I’d been sucking her clit. It was that that drove me over the edge, that and the sudden pulsing of her pussy as she wrapped her legs around me, pulling me tight to her as I stilled, squeezing my own eyes shut until I collapsed on top of her, only rolling off to discard the condom.

  “Fuck, MacKayla.” I held her to me, face-to-face, both of us out of breath.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against my chest, her small hand curling around my bicep. I looked at it, at her. So trusting, her body so close to mine, when all it would take would be the smallest effort on my part to crush her. But when she tucked her arms between us and burrowed even closer, the thought of crushing her, of truly hurting her, repelled me.

  A few minutes later, her breathing evened out and she slept. I pulled the blanket up around us, one arm never letting her go.

  That night was the first night I slept deeply in three years.

  The next afternoon when I arrived home from the grocery store, a car with Pennsylvania license plates stood along the curb outside of MacKayla’s house. Curious, I slowed down and tried to peer into her windows but saw nothing. I parked in my driveway and unpacked the groceries, keeping one eye on her place. My gut told me something wasn’t right. After setting the grocery bags on the counter, I picked up the mail and headed over to her house. Before I reached it, though, the front door opened, and a man who looked to be in his 50s stepped out. I stopped on the walkway up to her house, and when he saw me, so did he. MacKayla stood at the door, her face etched with worry, her expression turning to something else when she saw me, something like hope, which she quickly extinguished.

  “Your mail got mixed up with mine,” I lied, holding up a letter.

  “Oh,”

  She stepped outside, her usual self-confidence absent. This man flustered her. “You’ve got company, though, I can come back.”

  The man studied me, obviously unsure of what to make of me, but cleared his throat and approached me with his hand extended.

  “I’m Bill Spencer, Mac’s stepfather.”

  Well, that explained the anxiety rolling off MacKayla.

  I looked at the man’s hand, wanting to curl my hands into fists. “I’m Slater Vaughn.” I didn’t shake his hand. His expression changed when he recognized my name. Well, unless he lived under a rock, he’d know me, considering my relationship with his stepdaughter.

  Bill dropped his hand. “I was just leaving.” He turned to MacKayla. “Good-bye, MacKayla.”

  The way he said her name, I knew he did know. In the papers, they’d called her MacKayla, even though her family and friends called her Mac. I watched him climb into his car and drive away.

  “You’re dropping off my mail?” MacKayla asked.

  I climbed the porch steps. “No, no mix-up. I was just curious about the car. You okay?”

  “You want a drink?”

  “Sure.” I followed her inside. She went into the kitchen and took out an unopened bottle of whiskey. “I didn’t think whiskey was your drink,” I said, following her, setting my mail down on the counter.

  “It’s not, but it seems I’m needing it more and more these days.” She poured two tumblers and handed me one.

  “It’s none of my business, but I’ll be honest. I’ve done some digging, and I’m surprised to see Bill Spencer on your doorstep.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “What did he want?”

  She finished her glass and poured herself a second. “Money.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Are you scared of him?”

  She swallowed, her eyes shifty before they settled on mine. “Not for myself, no.”

  “Your sister?” She nodded, and I followed her into the living room where we sat on the couch.

  “I didn’t think he’d find me, or was even looking for me, honestly. I was always more worried for Janey. But I guess he missed his paycheck.”

  “Did he threaten you?” Although my voice came out level, inside, I was anything but.

  “Not me.”

  “Tell me what’s going on, MacKayla.”

  She snorted and finished her second glass. When she got up to get more, I caught her wrist. “It’s enough.”

  She looked from me to where I held her wrist and back. “You’re going to tell me what I can and can’t drink now too?”

  “Tell me what happened with your stepfather.”

  “Don’t call him that. He’s just Bill. That’s all. He was never any sort of father to either of us!”

  I let go of her and put both hands up in surrender. “Whoa, hold on. I asked you what happened with him. If he’s threatening you—”

  “He’s not threatening me.” She cut me off, going into the kitchen to pour herself another drink. “He doesn’t have to.”

  I stood and followed her. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  In response, she leaned against the counter and downed her third glass. “You don’t get to tell me when I’ve had enough. These aren’t the small hours, as you call them. I’m not your concern, Slater!”

  I studied her, wanting to shake some sense into her but knowing now would be futile. I put my untouched glass down. “You might want to sleep it off,
then, before you get to my house tonight. I’ve got a workout planned for you.” I walked to the door. “Midnight, MacKayla. Don’t be late.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to reply. I walked out the door and back to my own house. I’d have to get a few things ready for her for later.

  At precisely midnight, MacKayla rang my doorbell, the mail I’d left at her house in her hands.

  “Sorry for earlier.”

  I took my mail and motioned for her to come inside. She did, and I closed and locked the door behind her. She stood in the entrance foyer, watching me as I dropped the mail on the kitchen counter. When I turned back to her and leaned against it, my arms folded across my chest, she sighed and began to undress. My cock hardened as I watched her strip away her clothes, her now familiar body tempting, beautiful, making me want.

  No, not want. Need.

  Once she stood naked, she looked for the cushion she’d knelt on the last time, but I’d removed it. She knelt on the floor in her usual spot anyway.

  “No, not tonight. Tonight you’ll stand with your nose against the wall.” I pointed to the spot where I wanted her, directly across from my armchair and near the television.

  “What?” she asked, glancing at the place.

  “Go. Nose touches the wall, your toes touch the first line there, legs wide.” I’d lain down masking tape, one line about two feet from the wall, another at four, so she’d be leaning forward, her ass presented for me to do with as I pleased. I picked up the wooden paddle and carried it to the living room, setting it on the coffee table. “Move.”

  “Slater, if this is because of earlier, I—”

  “Move.”

  She went, her motions as though she were wading through mud. She took her position at the wall, lined up her toes, and leaned forward, using her hands to balance herself.

  “Legs wider,” I said from behind her.

  She muttered something under her breath, then widened her stance.

  “Now touch your nose to the wall and spread your arms wide.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Did you have more to drink after I left?”

  “No, I just don’t like being treated like this.”

  “I think you like it just fine.”

  “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t, not even close. You’re done talking. These are the small hours, remember?”

  Rather than giving me the glare I expected, her expression looked more hurt than anything else, but she didn’t say a word. Instead, she took up the position I requested. I took my seat on the armchair, my eyes trained on her even though I picked up the remote and switched on the TV.

  I let her stew for twenty minutes, my cock growing harder by the second at the sight of her there, her back arched in order for her to maintain the position, her full, round ass spread just enough to give me a glimpse of her pink, shaved sex. And even from here, I could smell the scent of her arousal. She was angry with me, or maybe angry with herself for what happened this afternoon, and she’d be punished for it. I had a feeling she didn’t want me to let her off the hook, although she may not think that when she got a taste of the paddle.

  Rising from my seat, I rolled up the right sleeve of my button-down shirt, not correcting her when she turned her head to watch me, both trepidation and desire in her eyes. I watched her throat work as she swallowed. Her pupils dilated, making her eyes appear as dark as midnight.

  I stood directly behind her, one hand wrapped around her waist and over her belly, my cock pressed against her ass. I lifted her slightly, snaking my other hand over her breast and up to her throat, holding her to me, the top of her head just under my chin. I worked my fingers down from her belly and cupped the mound of her sex. She gasped when I tested the wetness between her folds. I brought my face to hers, rubbed the rough scruff of my beard stubble against her soft cheek, and watched her close her eyes.

  “I’m going to fuck you against the wall later. I’m going to fuck that little cunt hard and make you drip until you’re screaming my name, MacKayla.” She ground her hips into my cock, my intake of breath audible as she worked its length through the rough fabric of my jeans.

  “But first,” I said, trailing my now moist hand up along her belly to a breast, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her back arch, her entire body tense. “First,” I said, stepping back to pick up the paddle while she watched. I pointed to the second line of tape on the floor. “You’re due a paddling. We’ll do this old school. Feet here, hands against the wall, and don’t move.”

  Her eyes darted to the paddle. She couldn’t quite hide her apprehension. I slapped the rectangular wooden paddle against the palm of my hand, not hard enough to sting, but enough to make her jump.

  “Slater—”

  “Position, MacKayla. Eight strokes, unless you argue. Each time I have to tell you, you get an additional stroke. And I won’t lie to you; this is going to sting a little.” I couldn’t stop one corner of my mouth from twitching upward. I would enjoy this. Although…time to call a spade a spade. “Unless you want me to stop now.” I stepped back, the shift in my stance alerting her. Her face fell a little. “But I don’t think you want that, do you? Do you want me to stop? Take you upstairs and fuck you missionary-style? Lay tender kisses along your neck? Tell me, do you want me to stop?”

  “I don’t know.” She bit her lip, glanced at the paddle, then up at me.

  “You know. You just have to say it.”

  “You want to punish me, and—”

  “No. Say it. Say you want it, because you and I both know you do. You’re hardwired this way, MacKayla. Both of us are. You get off on the pain. The humiliation. And I get off on giving it to you.”

  Her nipples hardened, and instead of answering with words, she stepped back to line up her toes with the tape on the floor and bent forward, her hands flat against the wall, back arched, ass lifted.

  A sound more animal than human resonated from my chest as I adjusted the crotch of my jeans and took up my position behind her. I pressed one hand on the flat of her back, forcing her ass to protrude farther, and rubbed her cheeks with my palm before lining up the paddle and caressing her flesh with its smooth surface. I’d made the paddle myself. It was sixteen inches of oak polished smooth with eight holes drilled into it. It would sting.

  “Count.”

  I struck, and although she jumped, it was nothing compared to what she’d be feeling by the eighth stroke.

  She clenched her cheeks and sucked in a breath, then said the count.

  I lined up the next one low, circling there for a moment before delivering the stroke. She made a small sound with this one, wiggling her ass, which the paddle had already marked.

  “Two.”

  “Lower against the wall, don’t shift your position. The next two are coming faster.”

  She moved her hands farther down.

  “Now show me you want it, MacKayla. Show me.”

  Without looking back, she arched her back to lift her ass higher.

  Six strokes to go before I could fuck her. Fuck. I delivered the next two in rapid succession without waiting for the count, and moved in closer to hold her against my hip when she began to jump around.

  “This really hurts!”

  “No kidding. Count.”

  “Three and four!”

  I had to laugh and leaned down to kiss her ass, seeing how her pussy glistened between those rose-colored cheeks. “Think of how good the fucking is going to be with your ass on fire and my cock buried in your wet cunt.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to respond before holding her tight to me and bringing the paddle down.

  “Ow, fuck! Five!”

  Her reaction to the sixth was much the same as the fifth, and the seventh and eighth had her crying. If she were owed more, she’d be begging me to stop now. Would I?

  It didn’t matter.

  I set the paddle down. “Stay,” I said.

  She mumbled something about i
t hurting but kept her position while I inspected her ass. She’d have a bruise or two, and from the difference in temperature in that area compared to the rest of her, she was sufficiently on fire. I knelt behind her, unbuttoned my shirt, and slid it off, my eyes on her ass. She quieted and craned her neck around to look at me.

  “This is my favorite place to be,” I said, spreading her cheeks. “I love looking at you like this.” I dove in then, burying my face in her ass, my tongue on her cunt while one finger worked her clit. She tasted fucking amazing, and I devoured her while she moaned, saying something, God knows what, while I ate her out, tasting her sweet pussy before sliding my tongue up to her ass and circling there, the thought of fucking that tight little hole turning my cock to steel.

  “Slater…fuck. You’re going to make me come.”

  And she did, gloriously, her thighs squeezing, holding me in place when she came, her taste addictive as my tongue worked to lick every inch of her, my cock about to bust out of my jeans until she relaxed her legs, her knees giving way as I stood to catch her. I pressed her up against the wall while I pulled the crinkling condom packet out of my pocket and worked my jeans off.

  “Slater.” Her gaze fell on the condom. “I’m clean, and I’m on the pill.”

  “I’m clean too,” I said, wanting more than anything to be inside her bare. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  I tossed the condom aside. “You make me so fucking hard,” I growled into her ear as I lifted her slightly so I could thrust my cock into her cunt. “Fuck, Mac, you’re so fucking wet.” I fucked her hard, crushing her between my body and the wall. I pulled out and turned her around so that she faced me for when I needed to see her, see her eyes, needed to take her mouth. She wrapped her legs around me, and I kissed her neck, sucking there, my orgasm nearing as I left a wet trail up her throat to her chin, her mouth. I took her lower lip between mine and sucked it, biting it as she cried out, the walls of her pussy throbbing against me as she came again. I captured her throat with one hand and lifted her face to watch her, my cock thickening as her cunt squeezed tight. I exploded inside her, our eyes locked, hers so soft, almost otherworldly.