Page 23 of Fake You

Chapter 15

Drew

As the reality of what I’d said dawned on Kik, she looked as though she was trying to pull herself back from the brink, but we both knew that it was too late. Her orgasm was a one way street, and she’d gone too far down it to turn back. The war of emotions playing out on her face had me hornier than I’d ever been in my life. Even more so when she began angrily punching at my chest as she fell down the rabbit hole of her orgasm. It was hot as fuck.

I came hard, while Kik continued to rain blows down on me. When I’d regained my composure enough to form a proper sentence again, I grabbed her by both wrists.

“You’re going to want to stop doing that, for no other reason than it turns me on so much I’m ready to go again, right now.”

“Ugh. You’re a pig, and I hate you.”

I winked knowingly. “Your words are one thing, but your body’s telling an entirely different story. I guess there’s reason they say the hips don’t lie.” I thrust my hips into her to emphasize my point. “And yours are saying that you’d take whatever I gave you right now.”

“Get the fuck off me.” I wondered if there was something seriously wrong with me, considering just how wild her anger drove me.

“With pleasure.” That wasn’t quite true, but it sounded good, so I rolled with it, and as she extracted herself from under me, I headed over to the bed. I needed get blood flow back to my legs. I reclined onto my back propped up on the excessive pile of pillows, fresh boner pointing at Kik like an antenna.

She pretended—unsuccessfully—not to notice, as she grabbed at the clothes she’d dropped on the floor back when she only half-hated me. Now she absolutely loathed me. Although she didn’t know even half the reasons she should. Yet.

She took the pile of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. I sent some emails and lined up a few calls while I waited for her to emerge. When she did, she grabbed for her backpack and made toward the door.

“Going so soon?” I carried on texting, not bothering to look up at her. Two could play at the artfully disinterested game.

“If you’re headed home, one thing you should know is that your new landlord had the locks changed—standard procedure when taking on a new property, I’m sure you’ll understand. So if you want access, you’re going to have to play nice to get the keys.

“Play nice like what?” She narrowed her eyes as she spoke.

“Let’s start with forgetting whatever it is you have, or think you have over my father.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me. I’d rather live in the gutter.”

“And what would your desperately ill father rather? I wouldn’t imagine that the gutter would be too comfortable for him in his condition.”

“You utter bastard.”

“Yup. Apparently it runs in the family.” I looked at her then, noting the tears streaming down her cheeks. I steeled myself and tried to make myself feel nothing at the sight as she continued to head for the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“I would say ‘home’, but I can’t meet the rental conditions my new landlord has in place, so I’m going to have to make other arrangements.”

“Don’t be stupid. Where the fuck else are you going to go? You have no choice.”

“There are always choices. We might not like them, or want to make them, but they are there.”

“And you’re about to make the wrong one, because of what? Misplaced pride?” I scrambled out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around my waist, and followed her out of the room.

“You can’t walk around like that. Someone might see you and complain.” She looked pointedly at my bare chest, sheet toga, and bare feet.

“Why would anyone complain about this?” I smirked, spreading my arms sideways, and looking down at my body. I was in fine form, and I knew it. “And even if they did, I’d have no qualms in telling them exactly where to insert their complaint. Zero fucks given. Also, don’t change the subject. You didn’t answer my question. You’re going to let pride make you homeless?”

I moved quickly, pressing my body to hers, pinning her against the wall again. My dick pushed urgently against her, keen for a second and third round.

“I didn’t think is was an actual question, but since you ask, it has nothing to do with pride, and everything to do with integrity, and doing what’s morally right. Concepts that obviously mean nothing to you and your father.”

“Ha! Are you fucking serious right now? You’re standing there talking to me about morals and integrity, all while you’re committing identify and tax fraud, and half the people who know you think you’re a dude called Kevin. You’re the biggest fake I know, and that’s really saying something given my family background and history.”

“That’s not the same at all.”

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