Page 67 of The Match Faker

An ending.

He squeezes my hips more tightly and guides me toward the back steps.

“Someone has probably noticed we’re gone,” I say, stopping at the foot of the stairs, my hand on the banister, even if staying down here is the last thing I want to do.

“Get upstairs.” His words are clipped, his tone impatient. “Please,” he adds with a harsh breath.

I can’t hide my shudder. Nick makes a satisfied sound that I feel against my back more than hear. Excitement propels my feet forward. That’s what this anxiousness is: excitement, anticipation. Desire.

I glance at him over my shoulder. He’s as disheveled as I feel.

I want to make more of a mess.

In the few moments it takes to reach his bedroom, I am breathless, and not from the stairs.

We slip into his bedroom and before I can say another word, he has the door closed and my back pressed against it.

“Oh.” My hands flutter in the air between us before they land on the shoulders of his Oxford shirt. “You left your suit jacket at the pool,” I whisper.

With a shake of his head, Nick scowls. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was angry. But I’ve learned quickly that there’s not much that makes him well and truly mad and besides, he doesn’t have much reason to be upset right now.

“I want to eat your pussy, Jasmine.”

“Oh.” My heart trips over itself. When I was the fake Jasmine—Yasmin—this was easier. The urge to take the lead, to act out his fantasies and maybe eventually mine, was natural.Imperative. But I’m the real Jasmine again and there are rules, a binder’s worth. “But then we won’t be even.”

Nick drops to his knees and takes one of my ankles in the gentlest hold, asking for me to spread my legs apart. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t,” he says, his breathing harsh. “But I think you do. We can balance the books later.”

“Don’t you want—” I wave a hand at the bed, where sex usually happens.

“Jasmine,” he grits out, his eyes blazing, “I swear to god?—”

“Ugh,fine.” The words escape me with a huff. As if I’m not aching to feel his mouth on me. “Just let me get this off?—”

Nick doesn’t wait; he lifts the thick, structured fabric of my dress and runs his hands up my legs.

My head falls back against the door. “Oh god.”

As he rubs his cheek against the inside of my knee, my inner thigh, the roughness of his stubble sends a zap of electricity up my spine. He pushes my thighs apart, his breath hot through my thin, soaked panties. Suddenly, he bats at the fabric of my dress and pokes his head out. “Just tell me to stop and I will.”

I grab him by the back of his head and push. “Don’t stop.”

Nick needs no more urging. He sucks at the delicate skin of my inner thigh and runs his hands up the backs of my legs, urging me to spread wider. My kitten heels pinch my toes and I always get a blister from the strap, but I could be floating right now as Nick’s shrouded head presses between my legs and he cups me in his mouth, laving his tongue over my panties.

Holy shit. I’m riding Nick Scott’s face.

Groaning, he slides two fingers into my pussy, meeting no resistance. The noises we make as he pumps his fingers inside my drenched pussy are illicit. He nuzzles into me, pushing my panties to the side and finally his tongue makes contact with my clit.

“Fuck,” I whisper, bearing down on his fingers and mouth.

He grunts a response and I wish we could be louder, messier. Moments ago, I wanted to use his bed, but now, I don’t ever want to be fucked on a bed again. Not when a bathroom mirror, a pool lounger, and a closed bedroom door are this good.

My skin is hot, slick from sweat and desire. He has to be hot under there, between the skirt and my body heat, but like he could feel my mind wandering, he nips at my thigh, bringing me back to this, now, him.

His fingers are an unyielding force, keeping me open. His face holding me up. I grind on him, move over and against him. He encourages it, one palm planted on my ass cheek, gripping me hard enough to leave a handprint.

I gasp. My pleasure pools in between my legs. “I’m close.”

Then he’s gone and the tidal wave of desire ebbs. I whine in frustration and press my fists against the door.

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