Whisper Those Lies

Her skin is warm under his tongue — warm and shivering. Every lie he spills soaks into her, makes her body hum like a wire pulled too tight.

“I need you,” he whispers, voice breaking as his lips close around her nipple through the silk. The fabric dampens quickly under his mouth. She gasps, fingers fisting in his hair, pushing him closer, grinding his cheek against the softness of her breast until he moans into her.

“Say it again,” she demands, but her voice trembles this time, the lie cutting into her like a needle slipping under skin.

“I need you,” he repeats, slower now, letting the words melt over her nipple as his teeth catch it, roll it gently. She squirms, hips rolling up, heat gathering where their bodies don’t yet touch.

His hand slips under the silk, finds the other nipple, pinches it just enough to make her whimper — that soft, helpless sound she hates giving him but can’t swallow back. He drags his mouth to it, tongue flicking fast and cruel before sucking it hard, pulling a sharp cry from her throat.

“You love it when I lie to you,” he breathes against her wet skin. She nods, eyes glassy, lips parted.

“Again,” she begs, voice raw.

“I’ll stay,” he lies into her chest, kissing down the valley between her breasts, tasting sweat and the salt of her skin. “I’ll always stay. I’m yours.”

She arches up, pressing his face deeper against her, her thighs falling open, her breath a ragged prayer of yes, yes, yes.

His mouth slides lower, every lie tasting truer the wetter she gets under him. Her hands guide him where she needs him most — but he pulls back, just for a heartbeat, eyes locked with hers.

“Tell me,” he whispers now, voice hoarse, “tell me you believe me.”

She laughs, half-sobbing, half-moan — and grabs his hair tighter, forcing him back down into her heat.

“Lie to me forever,” she gasps. And he does, mouth and fingers writing every lie straight into her trembling skin.

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