Liar liar, pants on fire

Liar liar, pants on fire

The Man with the Golden Gun It was supposed to be a game of wills. His versus hers. It was no surprise that she was winning. So far, he'd been able to control his growing urges in this madening game, but as Faith's whispery breath neared him, he could feel the ever present stirring in his slacks demand attention like never before.

"My turn," she murmured against his ear. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent ever so brieftly. Gently, her hand reached up and pulled the side of his face towards her. Licking her lower lip, her tongue emerged and began an excrutiatingly deliberate path along his cheek. Jerry's hands clenched immediately and despite his best efforts, a low moan escaped his lips.

Faith stopped, taking much of her strength to do so, and tilted her head. "Did you hear that?" she asked playfully. With his knuckles turning white, Jerry shook his head tightly. Faith giggled at his desperate attempt to hang onto that sliver of control. "Liar liar, pants on fire," she sang softly into his ear.

Faith's eyes darted to his lap, her mouth watering at the bulge. Jerry let out a shuddering breath, his gaze turning to his new bride. "You win," he rasped. The look of pure, raw desire that he gave her elicited a gasp of hunger. "What's my prize?" she managed weakly.

Jerry took her trembling hand and placed it over the confined protrusion. "You get this, luv. All of it."