Page 97 of The Fake Dating War

“Why—”

“We can multitask. And considering how weak you must be since I’ve been rocking your world?—”

“Rocking my world?” I repeat, my voice going more shrill. “It’s been moderate—alright—acceptable?—”

Those would be fighting words if I didn’t settle my nose against his neck and inhale. Even now, he smells so fucking good. It should be illegal to be this intoxicating.

From the corner of my eye, I spot a smirk lift his mouth. Guess his ego didn’t take my words seriously, or perhaps he felt me huffing at his skin.

In the shower, he turns on the water, testing the temperature with his hands before letting me get inside. I move to go onto my knees, surprisingly eager to get my mouth on him, but Jake doesn’t let me. Instead, I’m placed in front of him so I get most of the warm spray of the shower. Slowly, he soaps me up, placing intermittent kisses at the juncture of my neck as he cleans everywhere. Against my back, I feel his thickening desire, but his pace doesn’t pick up. He shampoos and conditions my hair so gently that my breath stutters.

It’s overwhelming in a way that lifts my heart until it feels risen to my throat, vulnerably close to the surface. If he spends any longer treasuring me like this, I’ll need to find a corner to be alone until I can remind myself we’re not real. That this is happening outside of our normal lives, and it’s all part of the craziness of this week and nothing more. No promises were made. If anything, sex is a hall pass of sorts since we’re playing fake partners so well.

The second he rinses me off, I go to my knees.

It’s better when I have a task to focus on. And the one in front of me is certainly big enough.

What is great for my pussy is a challenge for my mouth.

That said, I’m no quitter.

His shaft might cover my face, but I’ve got a clever tongue that is greedy to explore. First contact already has him groaning. Deciding I need more of that sound for as long as I can get it, I slowly explore every ridge, bump, and vein. There is a spot under his head I lightly suckle that makes his hands jerk out and grab at the shower wall.

“You’re killing me,” he cries out in a strangled voice.

“That’s the point.”

“Proceed, then,” he gasps out.

I pull back and blow on his cock. “Proceed?” I say, making my voice all low and stern. “I’m not one of your clients. I’ll do what I like!”

He gargles out a laugh. “I don’t—sound like that.”

“Hm. More arrogant.” I use both hands to stroke him up and down, then envelop him with my mouth again. My tongue strokes the underside, and when it does, I feel his hand come down and clench the hair at the back of my head. His hips shift forward, a silent begging for me to take him deeper.

I think about torturing him, but then I make the mistake of looking up.

Jake’s head is thrown back, his cheeks have flushed hard, and his chest is heaving. Water runs rivulets across his torso, the muscles in his chest, and the sculpted lines of his thighs. He’s—beautiful and lost, the rumblings of broken moans slipping out from his mouth. Feverishly begging.

More. More of that.

I need him undone by me.

Making my mouth open wider, I let his head hit repeatedly against the softness of my inner cheeks. And then, taking a big breath in, I tip my head up so I can take him into my throat.

His hand spasms in my hair. Precum spills, flavoring my taste buds as if he can’t help himself. I lap it up eagerly, going up and down his length, picking up speed. My jaw strains with effort, but every guttural noise of his fuels me faster.

His cock becomes my feast.

On my knees, I’ve never felt more powerful as I do when I’ve reduced this man to indistinct swearing, heavy panting, and—on a particularly long suck—my name. “Reema?—”

My cheeks hollow in surprise—and joy. So much joy.

It spurs me faster.

Pretty soon, he warns me he’s about to break. That I should pull away before he does, but I don’t. Greedily I keep going and swallow as he shoots his release in multiple spurts inside me.

The way his arms tremble, I’m surprised he can lift me to my feet, but he does. Hungry kisses are pressed against my mouth before he pulls back. His thumb swipes the corner of my eyes.

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