Page 142 of Fake Game

“Fuck.” I rest my hand on her ass, breathing heavily as I open my eyes and admire the way she is covered in my cum yet again. “I have to say, Sparkles, white looks good on you.”

She laughs, smiling half deliriously up at me.

I make quick work of heading into my bathroom and grabbing a soft towel, dampening it with warm water before returning to clean her up.

She whimpers when I run the material across her sensitive folds, and even though I’m fucking spent, I still feel my dick twitch at the sound.

I’m careful as I begin untying the rope from her wrists and ankles, taking my time to massage the pink skin. It seems she tugged a little harder than I expected. Nothing bad, but it will take at least the night for the indents to go down.

She stretches her body out like a cat, and I continue to massage her legs to press out the tension that’s built over the last hour. Deer hums, still lost in a daze from the sub drop. I pick her up and carry her into the shower, taking my time lathering her body with my soap and washing her hair.

I grab the pink robe I bought for her and wrap her in it. When I think she has enough lucidity to stand, I rest her against the marbled sink counter and pull out the hairdryer I rarely use and softly dry her hair.

“Can I dry yours?” Her eyes sparkle in that way I love.

“Sure.”

I hand her the black appliance and kneel on the bathroom rug so she doesn’t have to stretch up. Her nails lightly graze my head as she weaves her hands through my hair.

It’s nice. Calming.

By the time we crawl into bed, I’m all but ready to crash, fatigue wrapping its way around me.

“Jackson?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like this.” Her voice is soft and drowsy as she snuggles closer to me.

“Me too,” I whisper back. “Me too.”

And I can’t help but notice that us falling asleep together is beginning to become a pattern.

But it’s a pattern I don’t want to break.

THIRTY-NINE

DEER

Waking up to an empty bed is not ideal.

Waking up to the smell of what is most certainly breakfast? That I can accept.

I stretch against the charcoal sheets; my muscles are still a little sore from last night. I give my wrists a roll, noting that the pink markings have all but faded away.

Raking my hands through my hair, I search the ground for my abandoned clothes only to find them neatly folded in the corner with my handbag perched on top.

How sweet.

I dig around for my half-dead phone, noticing a few missed texts from Lee and one from my da.

DA:Everything okay? Saw the news

ME:yup!! Don’t worry just overworked

I had to hope the excuse would hold up. I’d been lucky enough that it had taken him this long to notice anything was wrong. The odds of him clocking my lies at this point had to be nonexistent.

I eye my discarded clothes, quickly dropping the idea of putting them back on and instead opening Jackson’s closet to paw through it for something to wear.

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