Page 103 of Threaded Lies

She moans. There’s no mistaking it, and I grow rock fucking hard at the sound all while knowing her mom just heard that.

Too bad Chad didn’t too.

“Row? Honey? I’m worried. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” her mom continues.

I push her back up against the wall as her hands move to my pants and begin undoing them. “I’m going to fuck you in this dress, Sunshine.”

Her cold hands find my hard cock. My eyes roll back in my head as she pulls it out and encircles it with her fingers.

“I just, uh … needed a minute to myself,” she calls out.

“I’m going to fuck you so when you wear it and walk down the aisle, you’ll remember the feel of it bunched around your waist as I fuck you into pleasure.”

“Just a little overwhelmed is all,” she continues and then fists my hair in her hand and yanks my mouth down to hers. “You’re such a fucking asshole doing this to me.”

“Doing what?” I ask as I lift her up with both hands and use the wall for leverage before lowering her down onto my cock.

“Burning this moment into your memory. Of you in this dress while my cock is in you?” I dig my fingers into her hips as she gasps the first time I thrust up.

Good.

Fucking.

God.

It takes a few seconds for the lightheadedness the feel of her sweet pussy creates to abate some.

“Hold…” My name is a breathless pant as she squeezes around me and scores her nails in my shoulder.

“I admit it. I’m more than fucking jealous—you picked this dress out for him to see you in.” Another thrust and then a hard grind so her thighs tighten on my hips. “But I’m the fucking asshole?” I tug on her bottom lip as her back arches so I go even deeper. “I’m the asshole?” I repeat as I lift her up some so I can piston into her as hard as I can. My mouth finds hers in a torrent of violent desire. And when I pull back, when I circle my hips beneath hers, when I thrust so very slowly so that all we can think about is us, I lean in to her ear and say, “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Don’t mess my makeup up,” she mewls, her head falling back and neck arching for me to lick my way up.

I chuckle against the skin there and revel in the goose bumps that chase after it.

“Pretty sure you’re going to need to be more worried about the mess between your thighs when I’m done. Wearing this dress for him while I’m still in you.”

Fuck. You. Chad.

And with that I set out to finish the task. To prove to her just how fucking great we are together.

To make her know this fucking touch of mine is real.

The silk fabric bunches beneath my fingers as I hold her hips and drive into her over and over, but it’s her nails digging into my skin that tell me this is real.

The bite of pain with the blush of pleasure.

It’s a reminder that I’m here. That I’m actually doing this—staking my fucking claim on a woman I’m not supposed to have. And it feels so good that without that bite of pain, I just might lose my goddamn mind and forget the first two.

“Holden,” she moans, and my name has never sounded sexier. “I can’t—”

“You can,” I growl in her ear. “You will.” And so I work harder, faster, deeper, to make her forget her surroundings, forget why she’s here, and to only think of fucking me.

Me.

That’s the only person she needs to see right now.

Seconds burn into pleasurable minutes. Fingernails dig deeper. My cock drives farther.