“You didn’t feel like yourself last night either, did you?”
He knows me so well already. I’m grateful, though, that he gets me. That he sees the issue.
“No,” I answer. “I just wanted to tease you and make innuendos, and play footsie, and kiss you at the table, and…” All at once, my tension loosens into a sex confession.
“Climb me in public?” he murmurs with a lascivious raise of his brows.
“Kind of,” I admit, then I spill more of my concerns. “Are we supposed to be a nice guy/nice girl couple? Because I’m not. I want you to—”
He shuts me up with a kiss.
A very un-chaste kiss, very much in public.
When we break it, I say, “I want you to take me home and fuck me.”
It’s the first thing that’s felt real since this fake dating started.
He parks himself on my couch and pats his legs. “Get on me and ride me.”
Hell yes. He’s not using a condom. We’re both negative and exclusive, so I straddle him, and he grasps my hips, positioning me over his cock.
I ease down, his strong hands digging into my hips as he guides me. I lean in closer, my breasts brushing his chest.
“Just you and me now,” he murmurs. “Use my dick to get off, honey.”
I shudder from the pleasure rushing through me already. “I love riding your cock.”
His eyes darken. His growl deepens. “That’s right. Use my dick to get off, and use this beautiful mouth too,” he says, running a finger along my bottom lip. “Love it when you say filthy things.”
“Love it when you fuck me hard,” I counter as he thrusts, stroking up.
His big hands run along my waist until he covers my belly with one palm. There’s something deliciously possessive in the gesture.
“You look so fucking beautiful riding my cock, Brooke.” His voice is a filthy whisper, but tender somehow too.
I moan, letting my head fall back as I find my perfect pace, rocking up and down on him.
“Love the way your sweet pussy grips me,” he rasps out, and I gasp at the lovely smut.
We become a hot, wild thing, a smashing of sweaty, greedy bodies. I’m nothing but desire and the wish to come. As my muscles tense, pleasure erupts everywhere inside me.
Seconds later, he follows me, pounding me hard,rough, like the lashing of rain against a window as he joins me.
Soon, we collapse in a sweaty heap on my couch, and he smothers my neck in kisses, then my cheek, then my ear. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, you.”
“I’m falling for you,” he says.
I smile. “I’m falling so hard for you.”
22
A CLEAN SHAVE
Drew
Best week ever.