Page 64 of Gilded Fake

We’re quiet a long moment. The drugs and the late hour make me sleepy, and I start to drift off before she speaks again.

“You hurt me too,” she whispers. “You chose Dixie. You’re fucking marrying her.”

“It’s not like that,” I say. “I don’t love her, and she doesn’t love me. She loves the status, the money, the name.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she says. “I think she wanted the ring as a symbol, something to show everyone so she could brag that she got you. But the prize is still you, not the ring.”

“I’m the prize, huh?” I ask, nipping playfully at her neck.

“I said Dixie sees it that way,” she says. “I’m not sure I’d go that far, but you’re tolerable when you’re not going out of your way to be an asshole.”

“Tolerable?” I ask. “Shit, don’t flatter my ego that way.”

She snuggles her ass down into my lap. “I have to be careful. Your ego’s even bigger than your dick.”

“My crooked little shrimp dick?”

“Exactly.”

We lie together in silence a while, until I can hear the morning birds join the chorus of insects and frogs singing outside. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“Now?” she asks, clearly skeptical.

“I don’t want the night to end.”

“Me neither,” she admits. “But I’m not sure walking is a good idea. You were pretty hard on me, Colt.”

“Worth it,” I say, pushing my hips against hers. I’ve got some morning wood going already just from dozing for a few minutes with her in my arms.

“For you,” she points out.

“I’ll carry you.”

“Then carry me to the bathroom.”

“At your service, your majesty,” I say, sliding off the bed and scooping her into my arms. “In fact, I’ll carry you around like a queen everywhere you need to go until you’re not sore anymore.”

“So, you’re going to carry me around for the entire next week?”

“What happened to not flattering my ego?” I ask, giving her a wicked grin as I carry her to the bathroom. I set her carefully on the toilet and leave her with strict instructions to call me as soon as she’s done, which of course she doesn’t. After the flush, her shower comes on, and I lean against the door and let my head fall back against it, picturing her perfect body under the falling water, bare and wet, her hands moving over it behind the swirling steam.

I’m so hard I have to rub one out while she’s in there, but I finish before she’s done showering. I toss the tissues in her trash basket on top of the condom Maverick dropped, now stretched and crinkled, the tip filled with his release. I stare at it a long minute, longer than I should, things starting to fall into place in my head. I sink onto the edge of her bed and stare at the bathroom door until it opens.

Then I rush to scoop her up and carry her back to the bed. “I’d spank your ass for not calling me to help you shower if it wasn’t the reason you’re hobbling around like my ninety-year-old great grandmother.”

“I’m going to get you back.”

“Hm, not really interested in pegging, but maybe I’ll change my mind someday,” I say, grinning as I pull open her drawers. “Guess you’ll have to stick around a while if you’re waiting for that day.”

“I can dress myself.”

“I know,” I say. “But it’s more fun when I know you’re wearing the panties I picked out under your clothes.”

I return to her and slide a pair of spring green lace panties up her glorious thighs, only bending to lay a single, lingering kiss between them before I hide her perfect pink pussy under the translucent fabric. I trace the seam of her lips with the tip of my nose, inhaling and letting out an involuntary moan of desire at the tease of her scent hidden behind whatever soap she used, only the barest hint of the sweetness that lies inside.

“I thought we were going for a drive,” she says, trying to push me away.

“I love the way you smell,” I say, resting my chin on her pelvic bone and smiling up at her. “You’d smell better with my cum dripping out of you, though.”

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