Page 58 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

Trey: You have a book-girlfriend-worthy pussy. So pink and tight. Is it wet right now?

Me: You’ll have to wait to find out, but let’s just say that Professor Trey has a PhD in dirty talk.

Trey: Professor Trey’s PhD currently stands for Pretty Hard Dick.

Me: LOL. I can see that in the photo.

Trey: When you fuck your vibrator tonight, think of me.

Me: I intend to. Wishing you were here. Can’t wait for the real thing.

Trey: Just about to leave Connecticut. Now I have to drive for nearly four hours with a boner.

Me: I’ll take care of it tomorrow night. With my tongue.

Trey: Ugh. You’re killing me. Until tomorrow, my love.

I don’t respond. His love talk makes me uncomfortable. I much prefer dick pics and dirty talk.

The next day, I wake up to a text from that unknown number again. It’s a picture of me carrying the box through my front door last night. I get the chills. What’s happening? Who is this? Should I go to the police?

I hide under my blankets for another hour until I decide it’s time to be productive. I stay in most of the day writing, suddenly feeling inspired to write a few sex scenes with a dirty-talking pierced man.

In the late afternoon, I shower and head out to do a little shopping before Trey arrives to pick me up. I have a very specific Christmas gift in mind for him. We’ve obviously just started dating, so I’m not going overboard, but I think he’ll get a kick out of it.

I’m walking back to my house when all the hairs on my neck stand at attention. I feel like someone is following me. Quickly turning back, I see no one. Maybe I’m just spooked by the texts from the unknown number. If I receive any more, I’m definitely going to the police.

I hurry home as fast as I can to get ready for our date.

An hour later, there’s a knock at my front door. I open it and see Trey wearing khaki pants, a button-down shirt, a bowtie, and a sweater vest. He’s looking every bit the part of a professor. Except for the fact that his muscles are so big they look like they’re about to burst through the shirt. I didn’t have any professors who filled out their clothes quite like this. Hell, I didn’t have any who were anywhere near as hot as him.

He's holding a single red rose. My insides liquefy. He remembered what I said about my teenage first date. My best first date. I have a feeling tonight will beat that one.

His eyes shade over with lust as they move up and down my body. The plaid skirt isveryshort. Even with thigh-high boots, there’s plenty of skin between my boots and the bottom of the skirt. The blouse leaves little to the imagination. My hair is down and wavy. I decided against the pigtails. We’re going for college-age romance, not felony-age romance.

I feign shock. “Professor Trey, what are you doing at my house? What if someone from the school sees you here?”

TREY

In a sexy voice, she breathes, “Professor Trey, what are you doing at my house? What if someone from the school sees you here?”

If I didn’t know before, I know now. There is officially no sexier woman in existence than Gemma Fairchild. That outfit is worth the two thousand dollars I dropped on it. I’ll buy a new one every day for the rest of my life if this is the outcome.

I charge at her like a bull until she’s pinned to the wall. She places her hand on my chest. “Just a kiss, Professor Trey. I don’t want you getting fired over me.”

I softly run the rose down her forehead, over her nose, across her lips, and then down her neck.

I can see her pulse beating rapidly in her neck. With my other hand, I cup her cheek and then bring my lips to hers. It’s been a long few days, and I’m ravenous for my sexpot.

I try to deepen the kiss, but she turns her head and whispers, “Later. It will be more fun if we wait.” She rubs her hand over my cock. “The payoff will be worth it.” She bats her long eyelashes. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise. You can put it anywhere you want tonight, professor.”

I suck in a breath. I’m so damn hard. My cock is leaking. I might come in my pants.

She continues, “Here’s a little something to tide you over.” At that, she hands me a pair of lace panties. “Be a good boy, and I’ll let you keep them. I wore them all day.”

After bringing them to my nose for a deep inhale, I growl. I don’t know where it came from. It’s not like I intended to do it, but there’s something primal that takes over my body in her presence. I would burn down the world for her.

Her eyes flutter. “You growl like such a good book boyfriend. I might record it for my social media…and my own personal bedside collection.”

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