“Checkmate, monster,” he said in a hoarse voice, his tongue wetting his lips, and he stalked toward me.
“What are you doing, Skip?” I asked, backing away from him, fear creeping into my veins.
“Making sure the dress fits.”
“I can do that by myself, I…I…I don’t need your help,” I stuttered, not sure if I was actually afraid of him or his closeness. His cologne was intoxicating and made my mouth water. My feet shuffled back some more until I felt the bed against my ass. The closer he got, the closer I wanted him. My core ached with excitement, anticipating his touch.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” His finger turned upside down and the dress dropped to the floor.
I refused to give him the satisfaction of answering him, but if I didn’t get his hands on me, I might die.
“Hmm?”
Not a word left my stubborn mouth.
“Last chance, Fiona.” He bent down to retrieve the dress, unzipping the side and held it out for me.
My pride wouldn’t let me speak, but the building desire in my body needed an outlet. I lifted my arms above my head and took a step toward him.
“Fuck this was a bad idea.” He stopped for a second, his eyes roaming my almost naked body before covering it with the dress.
“What our fake relationship?” I remembered I had the ability to talk again.
“No, buying you clothes. In fact, I changed my mind. Sex slave it is.” Wickedness flashed in his eyes as his hand slowly crept down to my side where the opening was.
“I won’t be your slave.” My fingers crept on top of his.
“I wouldn’t force you to. I have morals, despite what you think.”
I might hate myself for doing this, but I couldn’t take it anymore. It felt like I was going to explode. My hand guided his under the skirt and between my legs, showing him what I wanted.
“Fuck me,” he groaned.
“Yes, please,” I panted, grinding my hips against our hands.
I hated Skip Turner, but I hated myself more. He didn’t make me fuck him; I begged him to. He was still the villain of the story, only now, he was the villain for a different reason entirely. All of the thoughts swimming in my head made me dizzy. This was supposed to be a fake relationship, but the way he kissed me wasn’t fake. His need to pleasure me was very real. My experience in the sex department didn’t amount to much, so I didn’t have a lot to compare our experience to, but I wanted it to happen again.
11/
skip
I was a stupid,stuipid man to ever think faking a relationship with Fiona was a good idea, and an even dumber one for fucking her. My thought was if I banged her and got the urge out of my system, I would be able to think clearly, maybe I wouldn’t be as easily triggered by her. Wrong. Every day I spent with her, I wanted more from her, and each day I slipped a little more into hell with my pretty little monster.
“There’s a dance tonight,” I said testing the waters, certain it was something I didn’t want to do, but she might. Despite it all, I wanted her to say yes. I wanted to show her off to the town and to the world. Those thoughts scared the ever-loving fuck out of me, but I wouldn’t let her know. This charade was my idea, and I’d made the rule neither of us would fall. Did I love her? No, but I knew I didn’t want her to leave either. That in itself spoke volumes.
“Are we going?” she asked, while she mindlessly ran her finger along the display case in front of her before going back to organizing the albums.
“I don’t know. Do you want to?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear her answer.
Silence was the only reply I got, so I backpedaled. “Never mind. It was just to make this more believable anyway,” I lied to her but needed to hear it myself.
“If I have a choice, no, I don’t want to go to some Valentine’s Day bullshit dance. Not now, not ever.” She looked up from the case.
“That’s fine.”
“But, I would go with you,” she sheepishly admitted, her eyes flickering to mine, and her cheeks flushed a gorgeous pink color.
“Good. Wear the red dress,” I instructed her. When I gave it to her a week ago, I had the Founder’s Day dance in mind in case we had to attend. After I fucked her in it and on it, I didn’t give a damn if she wore it ever again. It served its purpose.