Page 53 of The Fake Out

She giggled at me while I yanked my shirt and tee over my head in one motion. As the clothing fluttered to the floor, the sound stopped abruptly, and she zeroed in on my chest. She pulled her lips in, and desire burned in her gaze as she drank me in.

Pride welling up inside me, I snatched her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed. Once she was in front of me, I skated my thumbs up along her ribs. Hypnotized by the dark depths of her eyes swirling with desire, I brushed the underside of her tits. Her pupils dilated, and her breath sped up. But there was also a hint of vulnerability in her gaze, like she worried I’d be disappointed the moment her clothes were off. I couldn’t imagine how she could feel that way. And I wanted to show her how wrong that assumption was.

“You want to know why I’m such a frantic, clumsy dumbass right now? It’s because you’re so fucking gorgeous. Getting to worship every inch of you is every erotic daydream I never thought I’d get to experience.”

Her breath hitched, and her eyes glistened. Now I was the one choking back emotion. This moment was unlike any I’d ever experienced. The air was thick, heavy, but with so much more than just sexual tension.

“It’ll all slide down if you take it off my shoulders,” she whispered.

Obediently, I hooked my fingers into both the dress and the torture device, and for an instant, her body tensed. I stopped there, focused once again on her face to gauge whether she was really okay with this. When a small smile crept over her face and her body went pliant, I continued slowly working both pieces of clothing down her arms.

When her arms were free, I stepped closer and released both of her tits. They were big and perfectly round, the dark nipples calling me to tease, to pinch, to taste. But it wasn’t what she needed right now. Instead of giving in to the temptation, I bent and gave both breasts a chaste kiss, then lowered the dress down her waist. I dropped to my knees and placed a row of kisses down her soft stomach. Then on each hip. When the dress puddled at her feet, I rolled the spandex down, smiling up at her to reassure her that I loved what I saw.

Once she was completely free of the stupid unitard, I pressed my lips to one thigh, then the other, and stood back up.

When we were eye to eye again, her expression was guarded.

“Every part of you is better than I could have imagined. Thank you for letting me be the lucky fuck who gets to give you pleasure.”

She blinked, and her breathing faltered. “Em?—”

I cut her off by slamming my lips to hers. Her nipples brushed my chest, and behind my zipper, my dick jumped. Slowly this time, I backed her to the bed and laid her down. Her big, bubbly curls spread across my gray comforter, and as I quickly got rid of my pants and boxer briefs, I couldn’t pull my eyes off her. The rosy nipples, the swell of her hips, all tan, soft skin. Gorgeous. After her reticence, I expected her to cover herself, but instead, she took a small breath and slowly separated her thighs.

“Fuck,” I mumbled the second my eyes locked on her glistening pink pussy. Instantly insanely desperate for her, I hovered over her, pressing my entire body against hers and delving into her mouth again. Bracing myself with one arm, I skated my fingers up her thigh and to her wet heat.

Shuddering, she arched against my touch. “I need you to touch me,” she panted against my mouth. “Please touch me.”

But I didn’t want to just touch. I wanted to taste.

“Patience, Mariposa. We have time,” I assured her, lowering myself. Lips pressed to her neck, I savored the scent of orange blossoms and the slightly salty flavor of her skin.

Continuing lower, I skimmed one breast, then the other, but when she arched her back, thrusting a nipple against me, I couldn’t stop myself from latching on. Her responding throaty whimper nearly broke me. I was racked with a pounding need to slam into her pussy until I finally exploded, but at the same time, I was hit with the desperate desire to drag this out for as long as she’d let me. I lapped at her nipple, then switched to show the other attention. Two perfect points that I couldn’t possibly pick between.

She rocked against my thigh, coating my skin with her desire. But I didn’t want her to come on my thigh. I palmed her hip, holding it down.

“Please.” Whimpering, she grasped at my hair and pulled.

A thrill shot through me at the move. Smirking, I flicked my tongue against her nipple a few more times, torturing her.

“Emerson,” she growled now.

“What does my dirty girl need?” I asked.

“Your mouth on my pussy,” she demanded.

Never in my life had I heard more perfect words. And I was more than happy to comply. I dropped my mouth to kiss her stomach, sinking my tongue into her belly button, then moved lower, separating her thighs to make room for myself. I ran my nose along her pussy, taking in her scent before I finally let myself have one long lap. The rich, salty taste of her on my tongue sapped any control I had left, and I dove in.

“Please, I—” she begged, clutching at my hair with more desperation.

I zeroed in on the bud of sensation that made her arch off the bed and deeper against my face. I circled her clit with my tongue before sucking it between my lips. I teased and played, and she thrashed under me as I curled two fingers inside her, pressing right on her G-spot.

“Yes, Emerson. Yes, right there.” Her cry echoed around the room and vibrated through me.

I flattened my tongue against her clit, then flicked twice. That was all it took to have her falling apart. She tilted her head back, her eyes squeezing shut as she came hard on my tongue.

I’d never seen anything as beautiful as this woman being consumed by pleasure. I worked her through her orgasm, lapping up every drop of her release until her body sagged into the bed. Looking up from her still glistening pussy, I was overtaken by a surge of emotions. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and hold her forever. Never let her go. See her come again and again. Make her smile. Make her laugh. I never wanted her taste to fade from my tongue.

What the fuck was going on with me? I wasn’t the kind of guy who got attached.

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