Betrayed by Truths: Truth or Lies Book 2

by Ella Miles

His cock pushes at my mouth again, and this time I let him in easily. I prepare myself for his cock to invade my throat again, but this time he takes his time, pumping into me.

  And when his head rolls back, and he moans, I feel the flood of liquid building at my core. I’ve never seen a man so hot and bothered from the touch of my lips.

  So I get bolder with my strokes. I lick over his length, meeting his thrusts and allowing more of his cock into my mouth, until he’s hitting the back of my throat again.

  The tears still come, but this time I give them willingly. I give them for Zeke—for the pain I caused Enzo. I give them because I want to see Enzo feeling excited. I love the heated desire grow deeper in his eyes with each thrust and knowing I’m the one putting it there.

  My panties are soaked as I continue to suck his glorious cock. A cock I already love and want more of. I never knew sucking a man off could bring me pleasure, but it does.

  I could spend my life on my knees tasting the tiny beads of his pre-cum. The heat of his blood as his cock grows larger. The thick muscles as it parts my lips.

  I want more.

  I can’t get enough of his cock. The deeper he goes in my throat, the more he moans, the more sensitive my bud grows between my legs, aching to feel more.

  Enzo gives me a look, and I know he’s about to explode. The look gives me a choice. I can choose where he comes.

  I want all of his cum.

  So I pull him deeper into my throat, until he’s exploding his hot thick cum coating my throat.

  He pulls back and stares at me suspiciously.

  “You’re tougher than I thought.”

  I smile as I lick my lips, loving the salty taste in my mouth.

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.” That was anything but punishment for me.

  His body hardens at my comment. I see his hands fist and the thick vein in his neck pops. He hates that any other man has ever touched me. He hates that he sees me as damaged goods.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” I say.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m damaged. I’m not. Finish your punishment.”

  “That was the easy part,” he warns. And I have no doubt he means it.

  I nod, preparing my body for more invasion.

  “Strip,” he commands.

  I’ve been naked in front of this man before, but it was never leading anywhere. This time it is, and I’m terrified of what he will think of my body.

  He raises an eyebrow while he waits for me. He tucks himself back into his jeans but doesn’t do them back up. He wants the inequality between us. He’ll be clothed, while I’ll be naked.

  I grab the hem of my shirt and lift it over my head. My nipples instantly point in his direction. I didn’t wear a bra, and right now I regret that I don’t have another layer of protection between him and me.

  He exhales at my naked chest, and I see the appreciation in his eyes instead of the disgust he should feel at my scars. It gives me the courage to remove my jeans and underwear until I’m naked in front of him.

  Enzo was angry and mad at what I did when we first entered this room, but now that he remembers what I’ve been through, I can see his anger dissipate.

  “Don’t—don’t feel sorry for me. Punish me; I deserve it.”

  He growls.

  “You’re right. You do.”

  I walk toward him and grab the waistband of his jeans to strip him, but his hand grabs my wrist and stops me.

  “No, down on the floor on all fours.”

  My eyes widen. Is he really going to take me the first time while I’m on all fours like an animal? I won’t even be able to look him in the eyes.

  I reluctantly get down on my hands and knees, my ass in the air. What have I gotten myself into?

  I feel his warm hand at my ass as he kneels next to me. This is it. The moment my life changes again.

  I close my eyes, preparing for the intrusion. I’m wet from sucking him, but I’m not sure it’s enough to ease the pain I know is coming.

  I jerk forward, but not from his cock entering me, but from his hand meeting the flesh of my ass.

  I don’t make a sound. I’m used to holding in any signs of pain. I know Jarod used to get hard at any sign of distress he knew he caused me, and I won’t let Enzo get the same pleasure.

  “You’re so used to pain, aren’t you? You don’t even react to the sting.”

  He swats my ass again, this time the sting spreads, and I can’t help but let my eyes water. I could stop the feeling of the pain. I know how. Just lock myself away. But do I want to?

  My body starts the process automatically. Stilling, cooling, locking away my mind. My mind goes to the beach, to the sand, to the warm wind.

  “Don’t you dare,” Enzo curses.

  His voice breaks through, but it’s not enough.

  He slaps my ass again, but I can barely feel it.

  He flips me over abruptly, until I’m on my back. “You have to feel everything.” He spreads my legs open, and his mouth disappears between my legs. At first, I don’t know what he is doing. But then, I feel the warmth returning to my body. The heat spreads from his lips to my core. And then I feel the most pleasurable thing I’ve ever felt—his tongue on my clit.

  I’ve never felt such pleasure before. Never felt such ecstasy. I didn’t know how it would feel, but now I never want him to stop.

  I arch my back into him, and my toes curl as he licks and sucks over my sensitive bud.

  Jesus.

  My body comes back to life from his touch. And if sex means I get to experience even a drop of this pleasure, I will never shut down during it again.

  “Yes,” I moan, grabbing his thick hair holding his head between my legs.

  I feel myself building to a place I haven’t experienced since he made me come on his bed.

  “Yes, fuck yes, Enzo,” I curse.

  He stops.

  He fucking stops.

  He grins down on me. “There you are.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  He smirks, wiping my juices from his mouth with his hand. “Because I haven’t finished punishing you yet.”

  I swallow hard, forcing the fear down.

  “I will hit you three more times. And you will stay with me for all of them. You will let the tears fall, the cries escape, the moans fill this room. Whatever you feel, you will feel it. You won’t lock yourself away—not until you’ve taken all three.”

  I nod.

  “Do you agree?” he asks needing verbal confirmation.

  “Yes.”

  He grabs my hips and flips my body onto his lap, my ass in the air.

  He rubs it gently, and then I still as he presses a finger at my asshole.

  I can feel his grin at my body’s response. “I should fuck your ass without preparing you, to punish you, but I’m not that cruel. Someday though, this ass will be mine.”

  Someday? This ends after tonight. This is the only time we get.

  “One,” Enzo says, slapping my ass harder than before.

  I force myself to feel it because it’s the only way I might get to the pleasure that comes afterward. And I’m tired of not feeling, even the bad.

  My eyes water, but they don’t spill.

  “Good girl,” he says, soothing my ass with his touch.

  “Two,” he says, striking harder.

  I cry out, my tears falling now. My ass is far too sensitive for another. I consider pleading for him to stop, but I don’t. I’ve never felt so alive.

  “Three,” I brace myself, but it’s not enough. This one holds all his rage. All the pain he’s feeling inside he takes out in one stroke.

  “Fuck,” I cry. My tears are full on streams now, my ass burning, my body convulsing.

  “It’s over, baby.”

  “Don’t, baby me,” I cry, pulling my body off his lap. I hate him, but I also want him. I’ve never been so wet before. I want his cock even though I know it will hurt worse than his slaps. But I
am also already tired of feeling—anything, pleasure or pain.

  He watches me carefully as he pulls the T-shirt from his head. Then lowers his jeans and kicks them off until he’s naked.

  “On the bed,” he commands.

  “No.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t want him to fuck me on the bed where he’s comfortable. If he takes me, he takes me on the floor.

  “It wasn’t a question. It was a command.”

  “No.”

  “Would you rather take the whipping?”

  I feel the redness of my ass. I would need to shut down completely to take a whipping. And Enzo wouldn’t let me. It would last days, neither of us relenting until I felt everything.

  “On. The. Bed. Kai.”

  I reluctantly lay down on the bed as he walks toward me. But then I remember my own plan for revenge. It’s better this way. And as much as he’s hurt me so far, I also feel free. I know he’s holding back. If he truly wanted to hurt me, he would. His hits were nothing like Jarod’s. Enzo’s hits were that of a man in pain expressing his emotion to me in the only way he knows how, because words aren’t enough to feel his pain.

  And I feel pain too. Pain of what I’ve been through for six years because of this man. Pain at knowing men died because of me. Pain at not being free.

  But that ends now. When Enzo’s cock enters me, I will give him all of my pain. I will be free. My pain will be his burden to bear.

  He takes a rope and a condom out of his nightstand. He tosses the condom aside and then takes the rope.

  My eyes widen. I don’t want to be tied down. I won’t be able to stop him if I can’t handle this. I won’t be able to feel his body as he enters me. I’ve noticed I do better when I initiate the touch first. He’s noticed that and is taking it away from me.

  “Wrists,” Enzo says, waiting patiently by the head of the bed.

  I close my eyes, letting the fear overtake me.

  “Wrists, baby.”

  Why is it when he says ‘baby’ it both calms me and petrifies me at the same time? He wants to hurt me, but he also wants to please me. He can’t have it both ways. He can’t be the monster and the lover. He has to choose.

  And I already know which he will choose. Monster. No lover would tie me up knowing my history.

  I raise my hands over my head, and he ties them together and then to the bed frame.

  I pull, but there is no way I’ll ever get free.

  Then, he takes a blindfold from the dresser and covers my eyes.

  Shit.

  I don’t even get to see him.

  I get to live in the darkness where I've always wanted, but the darkness is no longer my friend. I feel alone.

  I hear the crinkle of the condom as he sheaths himself before settling between my spread legs.

  He doesn’t kiss me.

  Doesn’t suck or caress me.

  He does nothing to prepare me for his cock.

  This is punishment. It’s meant to hurt and remind me I don’t deserve anything better. He’s giving me his pain, and in return, I’ll give him mine.

  “I hope Langston did fuck you and stretched you out first, because this is going to hurt. And I won’t let you lock yourself away again. You will feel this. All of it. And you will never hurt my family again.”

  Anger rages inside—sex should never be a punishment. But this is what I wanted. This is how I get free. By showing Enzo he’s a monster no more worthy of becoming Black than I am. He’s not a saint who just protects his men and those weaker than him. He’s a monster. And until he makes amends for what he did to me, and who knows how many other innocent people before me, he doesn’t get to think of himself as anything but evil.

  I want to tell him I didn’t fuck Langston. But it might give him the resolve he needs to stop himself. And I need him to lose control to do this. I need this.

  He needs this.

  This ends now.

  I almost feel the regret oozing off of him into the room. “I’m just warning you. Even the most experienced women I’ve been with feel pain at my size. This is your last chance. I won’t fuck you unless you want me to. But this will not be gentle. I will not give you time to adjust. This will ruin you if you aren’t prepared.”

  His cock rests at my entrance, and I know the pain I’m about to experience.

  I will never be ready for this.

  But I want to ruin Enzo as badly as he wants to ruin me.

  I need this.

  I want this.

  This first time is going to hurt no matter what. I’d rather feel all of Enzo than slowly face the reality of him. I want to know the worst, so I’m no longer afraid of sex.

  I grab his thick thighs with my legs, pulling him to me. “Do it.”

  My eyes slip below the blindfold, and I watch as he closes his eyes as if to prepare himself. When he opens, I see a look of lust I’ve never seen before. It’s like he released all of his self-control.

  He gives me one look of warning knowing I can see beneath the blindfold, and then he plunges inside me.

  I cry out, releasing all of my fury and pain as he enters me. His burning heat mixes with my ice cold and causes a hurricane of emotion and feelings inside me.

  Tears burn my eyes; my thighs squeeze at his waist, and my voice screams out feeling every bit of him stretching inside me.

  I feel myself struggling to breathe. Like him being inside me pushed all my air out.

  I can do this; breathe.

  I look up at Enzo. His eyes are dark holes as he looks at me. He doesn’t give me any words to comfort me—nothing to help my struggle. His lust seems to grow the more I struggle beneath him.

  I’ve never felt so alone.

  He inches forward, and that’s when I realize my body hasn’t accepted all of him. There is still more to go. I struggle against the ropes.

  I can’t.

  But Enzo doesn’t give me time to prepare or argue against it. He thinks this is what I experienced on a daily basis on that yacht. That I felt worse than this. That this is nothing in comparison. He thinks the reason I’m in pain is because I’m back there again.

  It’s not.

  The pain is real.

  The pain at never thinking a man would ever want to fuck me.

  That a man would never find me attractive.

  That a man would never see me as anything but broken.

  Enzo doesn’t see me that way. He sees me as a woman deserving to be punished—a woman he is desperate to fuck.

  He thrusts again.

  “Fuck you,” I scream at the pain.

  Although Enzo thinks I’m screaming at him.

  Another thrust, hitting me so deeply I can’t imagine he can go deeper inside.

  His hands are at my hips, sinking inside me deeper and deeper. Stretching me wider than I’ve ever been stretched.

  I feel the blood oozing as he penetrates me. I feel myself being ripped.

  I feel the tears dripping down my cheeks. But not from the torture—from the release of the pain and agony.

  Enzo is setting me free whether he means to or not. This is what my body needs—not a sweet entry into womanhood. This.

  I start relaxing, opening myself to the pain as he starts pounding into me in a brutal rhythm meant to torture me with his cock.

  But then he changes his angle, and I feel his body rubbing against my clit. The alternating pain and pleasure overwhelm me. Almost forgetting my part I need to release to fully be free. The part he needs to hear.

  It takes everything inside me to speak and not in a curse. “I’ve never been sold.”

  He stares at me but doesn’t slow his thrusts as if he can barely understand what I’m saying.

  “I’ve never been sold. Truth or lie?” I ask.

  “You want to play now?”

  “Just answer me,” I grit out between painful tears.

  “Lie.”

  I nod. But he pounds faster, and the pain turns to quick panting on the verge of
coming, but it doesn’t make up for the pain he put me through in his journey to get punishment.

  “I’ve never been tortured.”

  The scars of my torture mark my body, making it an obvious lie.

  “Lie.”

  Faster he pounds into me—rougher, harder. Not relenting, despite my frantic breathing.

  It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

  I hate it and love it.

  He hurt me and healed me.

  But I will never let him know how much this healed me. He will only ever know of the pain. He will see himself as a monster. When he looks in the mirror, he will only see the boy his father raised him to be—a beast.

  I swallow hard, preparing for my next words.

  “I’ve never been raped.”

  He doesn’t hesitate. He thrusts faster, building us both to the edge of everything—pain, joy, forgiveness.

  I feel his cock drive into me over and over.

  I bite my lip, but it’s not enough. I cry out over and over, but I don’t know if it’s from pain or ecstasy. It all blends together into one mess of emotions.

  It is everything.

  Everything I’ve wanted and hated.

  I could love this boy, if only he’d let me. Instead, I hate him.

  I hate him for selling me.

  I hate him for taking me.

  I hate him for telling me the truth.

  I hate him for punishing me.

  I hate him for hurting me.

  But I could love him for healing me.

  Which is why I’ll never think of this moment again. He broke what was left of me, but somehow the final breaking gives me something back. The ability to finally put the pieces back together.

  I scream. It’s the loudest I’ve ever screamed. And everything I’m feeling released in one mighty orgasm as I feel Enzo’s own release inside as he jerks within my body.

  But when he stills, he doesn’t relax like a man who just made a woman come. He was so consumed with his own orgasm and revenge, he barely paid attention to me at the end.

  We both pant heavily, his cock still rests inside me, and finally, he answers my last truth or lie.

  “Lie,” he says more cautiously than the rest. “You were raped by Jarod. Langston…” He can’t finish his sentence. Still not sure if Langston fucked me or not.

  “I’ve never been raped, and Langston never fucked me. You just took my virginity—ripped it from my body in your seek for revenge. You may not have raped me, but you hurt me instead of loved me. Because you are a monster.” And then I say the words I suspect will hurt the worst, “You’re just like your father.”