Page 69 of The Fake Dating War

One stroke and I’ll finish. How am I so close already? Christ, my control is in fucking pieces this week. I need to see a doctor as soon as I go home. There must be some sort of deficiency that acts up whenever she is around.

Looking down at her face, I see a wrinkle form between her eyebrows. She doesn’t like the hold I have on her wrist, and is trying to pull out of it, whimpering at me. Even in her dreams, she doesn’t like being told no. Her fingers are straining to—cup me?—or explore the hard ridge of my very happy cock.

There’s accidental contact, and I can’t stifle my groan.

Her eyes pop open, and Patel’s soft dreamy gaze is a devastating punch to my gut, before it sharpens and she shrieks. “What are you doing?!”

“I should ask you,” I grit out, “since I’m the one getting felt up!”

She looks down at her hand, and how it’s splayed against me, gasping at the sight.

“Sorry! I didn’t think it was real!” She tries to tug her hand away. I don’t want to let go, but I do.

With a twisting of her body, Patel detangles herself and clamors upright on the bed. She’s panting.

“Were you having a sex dream?” I ask, my voice gravel-rough from… sleep.

She pinches her nose.

“With who?” I wonder. “Who was getting you off?”

She whisperedmyname, but it’s not enough.Confirm it.

“It wasn’t—you.”

What a liar. I fight the urge to bring her over my knee. To have her squirming on my lap as I convince the truth out of her with my fingers. Instead, I ruin the sheets with my fist. They wrinkle heavily under it. And then, with a lot of effort, I force a smirk on my face. “Is that so? Tell me his name. He must have been doing a great job, considering the needy sounds you were making.”

“It was nobody!”

“Nobody had you one touch away from exploding? Are you always such a quick-draw?”

“When it’s been a while,” is what tumbles out of her mouth. A confession she immediately regrets, I can tell considering the way her nose scrunches.

“How long?” I jump to ask.

Having learnt her lesson, she stays quiet.

I repeat, “How long?” Except my voice is more of a growled rasp than it should be.

Her cheeks tinge a bit. You have to look closely to notice them getting pinker, but I’m always looking. Does she like it when I push? In that case, she has no idea how much I can push.

“Patel.”

Her last name does the trick of breaking through, almost as if she’s reminded of who we are to each other. Her eyes flash brightly at me. “Who knows how long? I’ve been busy with work.Forty-fivemillion busy. Maybe I’m waiting until the bonus hits my account.”

“Oh? So you do have a plan to take care of yourself after?” I ask casually, as if the front of my pants isn’t tented. As discreetly as I can, I cover myself with a pillow because it’s not going away. Especially since I’ve got half-formed thoughts about her getting herself off. Would there be a vibrator involved? What kind? The visualization sears my brain, bringing with it another disturbing realization.

I would give up a lot—too much—to watch that.

“Of course, there is a plan.” She crosses her arms. “Did you forget? I’m on Finder now. There’s interest there.”

No shit, there’s interest. Who wouldn’t be interested? More half-formed thoughts flit through my head, like how no man from that stupid app deserves her. That it’sPatel—and she can’t?—

“You said my name,” I tell her. “It was me you thought about. Admit it.”

Her expression shifts through a few phases. Shock is obvious… some residual embarrassment?… and panic as if she’s been caught. When she looks away, it kills me. She doesn’t want this. I shouldn’t want it either.

There’s an order to how things need to be between us. It’s a controlled enmity fueled by healthy competition. Not whatever this is. Trying to brush the whole thing off, I stand up. “Right. We’ll blame the bed. It was—confusingly comfortable.”

---