Page 28 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

“I’m not…” I start, unsure of what I’m about to say. Defend myself? Reiterate the fact that I want him, regardless of my plan?

There’s no need to, however, because his free hand finds my breast, his thumb brushing across it. Pleasure grips me in its throes. A moan rips from me, both nipples beading instantly. I’m suddenly filled with the intense urge to have him touch me more.

“No bra,” he mutters in my ear, causing the hairs on my neck to stand and sending my skin tingling. “Damnit, Chapman, are you playing this game for me, or for yourself?”

Myself,I think instantly. I’m the clear loser in this game. Inallof this. Wanting Ken to notice me, to want me, even after what he did when we were kids.

He spins me around, his palms finding my waist, steadying me. I feel him hard and pressing against the layer of his pants. I collapse against him, unable to keep myself standing a moment longer. Ken supports my weight, leaning down for the hem of my dress, pulling it over my thighs and hips, until its bunched at my waist. It’s exactly what I imagined him doing when I put it on. That thought makes ashiver run through me. I’m suddenly aware of how wet I am, how the string of my underwear has been sucked into my throbbing, swollen lips.

Ken corrects that immediately, pushing the panties down my hips and thighs. I step out of them numbly, barely aware of what I’m doing, only knowing that he has to keep touching me.

Ken steps up beside me and rubs his dick against my ass cheeks. Another moan slips off my lips. The pleasure is blinding, obstructing thoughts of Haley and my parents. Obstructing thoughts of the game I’ve been playing with Ken too, and the fact that I wanted to win.

I’m now playing to lose, I realize,and I like it.

Ken groans, his palms leaving my waist to cup my breasts. “What do you want?” His tone is heated and angry.

You,I think instantly. Still, I force myself to snap out of it and focus on why I’m really here.

“Papers,” I hear myself mutter. He’s rubbing up against me again, turning me into a damn marshmallow, warm and gooey in his arms. I lose my train of thought again, my back bending forward so I can rub against him, relieving some of the tension pounding through my body.

Ken lets out an appreciative grunt as I move my hips in slow, circular motions. His palm comes down on the small of my back, pushing me to go even lower. Something about his grunt seeps into me, gladdening me to my very core.

I want to please him, watch him come undone for me.

I hate myself for my weakness, but I can’t stop myself.

He’s stronger than I ever imagined. He doesn’t pull himself out to claim me. Instead, he dry humps me, going as far as he can with his clothes on. I feel myself unravel, my arousal easing the friction against his pants, letting me feel more of him.

Not enough, though. Notnearlyenough.

“What papers?”

It takes me a second to realize what he’s asking about—I’m that lost in the moment. “I need to prove that we’re really married.” I’m almost glad that we’re grinding against each other as I speak. It would’ve been far harder to say those words if we were in any other position. To actually admit that I needed his help.

Ken curses. He’s as frustrated as I am, I can tell. He wants to be inside me. But he’s also holding back. He pulls back from me, and I slam my lips together to stop myself from crying out in protest.

It doesn’t matter though, because a second later, his fingers fill me up, exploring. I moan loudly. It’s not the kind of touch I want, but I’ll take anything at this point. Andthisisn’t anything, I admit a second later. Ken’s fingers are so large, sofilling,that my tension seeps out the second he pushes them in. His fingers are big enough to sate me, but they also fill me with a pressing need. One where I’m desperate to experience all of him. More pleasure bursts within me as moans slip from my lips, unrestrained.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” I’m aware of the fact that he’s leaning backward now, watching himself as he toys with me. He digs even deeper, his movements lacking subtlety or gentleness. Exactly the way I want him. The harshness to his movements brings a twinge of satisfaction that belies our rough past. We can barely stand each other, and this is all just animal magnetism. Two humans sexually frustrating and satisfying each other all at once.

Fitting, really.

“How do I prove that?”

I close my eyes against the surge of pleasure, trying topick my next words carefully. “Bank statements. Utility bills.”

He stops moving. A second later, he’s pulled his fingers out of me. Desperation rises inside me, and suddenly, I’m crushing my back against his front, moving my hips as I grind myself against him.

It’s like I can’t exist without feeling some part of him on me. I’d been celibate for years before Ken reappeared in my life, and yet, this feels natural. So natural, I can’t even feel shame at my wantonness.

“Utility bills.” His voice is hard, foreign. He grates his hips against mine one last time. A final sound of pleasure bursts from me before he moves away. “You want us to live together.”

Live together.

My ecstasy fizzles into nothingness in that moment.

I knew, of course, that would have to happen. In theory, at least. But I’ve not thought much of itactuallyhappening. What it would mean to live with him, day in and day out. To continuously struggle with everything I feel for him—resentment and desire mashed together.

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