Page 34 of It's Not All Fake

Time itself seems to pause, to take in the weight of what we’re doing. I feel the palpable shift as we cross the line into something new.

Chloe melts into me, moving her mouth in tandem with mine, her touch a revelation. She tastes like mint candy, her breath mingling with mine.

My hand finds the curve of her waist, pulling her a fraction closer. I am slow and deliberate, caressing her lips. I want more of her, but I stop myself.

I need to give her an out. I can’t have her feeling pressured into this because I sign her checks.

I want her to want me.

So I pull back just enough to look at Chloe. Her lips are pinker now from our friction, and her breathing is ragged.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, my voice a low whisper.

“No.” Her voice is firm, resolute. No tremble. No doubt. Her eyes reflect the desire that I feel.

I pull her toward me, tasting her lips again. My fingers curl into her silky chestnut hair, holding her close, wanting to kiss away all the pain of her past. She returns my affection and I deepen the kiss, my tongue slipping past her lips, seeking hers. Chloe moans softly, a sound that vibrates through me.

I already feel my cock growing, hardening against the constraint of my jeans. My hands roam over her body, memorizing her curves.

I want to make her feel good. We're not just crossing a line. We're obliterating it, and I can't bring myself to care about anything but the feel of her in my arms.

I can’t stop kissing her, but I can multitask. My hands move to her hips, gently pulling her closer. She gets the idea and moves across my lap until she is straddling me.

The pressure of her on top of my cock makes me ache for her. She moves, just so, and a strangled groan escapes me. It's a precarious balance, this edge of pleasure and restraint.

I brush a stray curl away from her face, caressing her cheek as we’re still locked in the kiss. It’s a conversation more expressive than any amount of talk therapy. She is my elixir, and I can’t get enough.

Emboldened by the rising heat between us, my hand drifts down, fingers tracing the curve of her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt. The firmness of her nipple presses against the material, betraying her arousal. I rub my thumb over it, feeling it harden even more under my touch.

Chloe moans into my mouth and my cock twitches at the sound. Her hands rest on my shoulders, but now they slide down my chest, her fingers finding the hem of my shirt and tugging it upwards.

I’m more than happy to oblige. I break our kiss and help her peel my shirt off over my head.

Now it’s her turn.

Without breaking eye contact, I inch her blouse up slowly, taking my time. I feel her warm, smooth skin as I push up the material. She lifts her arms in silent compliance, and I pull the fabric over her head, letting it drop to the floor.

She’s wearing a silky bra, and I can see her hard, pink nipples through the thin material.

Chloe’s hands run over my chest, feeling my pectoral muscles and biceps. Her eyes flick to mine, a darker sea-green, filled with desire.

We know what’s coming, and there’s no need to rush. We’ve chosen this—each other. This isn’t the frenzied race to gratification—a means to an end—like with other women.

This feels completely different.

I enjoy the tension and anticipation, deliberately prolonging it to drive us both mad, as I run my fingers up her arm and gently move her bra strap to the side until it falls off her shoulder. She watches me, allowing me to drink in the sight of her. She’s still and patient, willing to let me take my time with her. I see goosebumps form on her arms as my other hand slides her remaining bra strap off.

I want to ravage her—to take her immediately—but this is too good to rush.

My eyes don’t leave hers as I reach behind her and find her bra clasp. I’m mesmerized by her gaze that seems to see inside of me. The quiet between us is charged with unspoken words and feelings.

I unhook her bra and let it slip down. Chloe bites her lip, and her breathing becomes shallower. She allows me to admire her beautiful form—her full breasts, her soft pink areolas with hardened nipples standing at attention.

I reach out and take her breast in my hand, caressing her.

“You’re gorgeous, Chloe,” I whisper, locking onto her jade eyes that glimmer with desire.

With my free hand, I cup her cheek and pull her into a deep kiss. I massage her breast, pinching her nipple, and she moans—loud, unrestrained—her sound swallowed by my mouth. If I were still in my college days, I might have lost it right there. My cock is throbbing for her.

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