Page 92 of The Fake Dating War

He looks up at me from between my legs, tongue hovering above the spot. One lick. Two. More. Each one is punctuated by a word. “Who. Is. Going. To. Make. You. Cum?”

What’s in a name? It’s only syllables. It shouldn’t mean anything between us, but it does. It opens the vault to a place I’m heavily ignoring inside me. And yet, the cord holding my orgasm needs more to snap, and he’s still teasing my entrance with his finger, not pressing inside me. I scream out a name, deliriously grasping atanythingbut Jake.

His head comes off me, nostrils flaring. “Who thefuckis Igor?”

Fuck me, I was so, so close. Also—fuck me, I can’t believe I said IGOR!

“Who is Igor?” he repeats roughly, a dangerous glint darkening his green eyes.

My hand covers my face.

“Don’t hide. Tell me who Igor is.”

My orgasm becomes a phantom, sliding off into the horizon. I must grip it with both hands and pull it back. “You are not Igor.”

The muscle in his jaw leaps. He’s grinding his teeth. “I’m aware.”

He’s about to pull back, but I stop him. “My… pussy is Igor.”

Coleman looks dumbfounded. “You named your pussy, Igor?

I don’t care, I’m covering my face with both hands now. “Yes! Because it’s been sad! And that’s the saddest name I could think of.”

There’s a thud. I peek between my fingers. He has gone back to his knees, his head buried against my inner thigh. I see enough of his mouth to clock the grin.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“I can tell now–” he suppresses a laugh. “That you’re bad with names. It makes me feel better that you’ve forgotten mine, apparently.”

Guilt ties a rope around my chest. I haven’t forgotten. As if I could. Maybe I should say it. But why does it feel like I’m giving something over? As if I’m handing him something I won’t be able to take back?

He widens my knees again. “On principle, I should refuse to suck the clit of Igor, but you’ve turned me into a very desperate man. For you, I’ll push on.”

He gathers my wetness with his thumb and brings it to his mouth. “Why do you taste so fucking good, Igor?”

“You can’t call her that!”

“Why?”

“She’s… not Igor anymore.”

“Oh?”

“Not quite as sad.”

“She does appear to be weeping.”

I roll my eyes, then try to hook him closer with my foot. “Can we keep going?”

He bends his head and nuzzles my pussy, rather affectionately. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll think of a better name for you.”

The touch of his cheek against me there zings fresh desire up my spine. The coals of my orgasm come to life again.

“How about the property of Jake Coleman?” he murmurs, gently taking my folds into his mouth.

What?“Not in his wildest dreams on any planet in any universe!”

“That’s way too wordy of a name.” His finger pushes into me, going knuckle-deep. Coleman hisses something about tightness.

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