Page 45 of Pretending I'm Yours

I’ll have to find a way to walk the line between truth and fiction, and hope she’ll forgive me when I finally come clean.

“Or I could ask her to run away to an island off the coast of Greece with her male escort and never come home,” I murmur, the thought more than a little tempting.

But I’ve learned my lesson from my impulsive break from my company. Running away has only created more problems. And Idon’t really want to run away with Maya. I want to welcome her into my life and maybe even…build a life together.

It’s crazy, but I’m already there, already dreaming about a future with this woman.

But when I get downstairs to find Maya lounging on the couch in the living room in a silky jade robe that hugs her curves, it feels less crazy.

I mean…fuck. She’s stunning, from the tips of her toes to the mischievous smile curving her lips as she looks up from the copy of Sense and Sensibility she’s pulled off the shelf.

“Pie’s in the oven, but it takes seventy-five minutes to cook. So, I slipped into something a little more comfortable.” She rolls a shoulder, causing the robe to slide farther down one shoulder, revealing the interior curve of her breast, making my mouth go dry. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I mind,” I say, my voice low and rough as I start across the room, stripping my sweater off and tossing it to the ground as I go. “I mind very much.”

“Oh no, I hope I’m not in trouble,” she says, her eyes dancing as she tosses the book onto the cushion, her gaze still locked on mine.

“Never. But you’d better get your ass up those stairs if you don’t want to be fucked on that couch where anyone looking in might see us.” My t-shirt goes next before I stop in front of her, reaching for the close of my pants.

She bites her bottom lip, the hunger in her expression making me harder. “If a person were worried about things like that, seems like they should have invested in drapes.”

“Are you criticizing my décor, Ms. Swallows?” I ask, drawing my zipper slowly down, the sight of her nipples tight against the satin of her robe nearly enough to undo me.

She shakes her head as she reaches up, guiding the fabric slowly off her creamy white shoulders, then the tops of herbreasts, then those pale peach nipples I can’t wait to feel hard against my tongue. “Never, Mr. Clark. I kind of like the idea that someone might see. Is that wrong?” She reaches for the close of my pants, her hands brushing mine as she curls her fingers around the top of my boxer briefs, adding in a whisper that destroys the last of my control, “And I also want to learn how to give an incredible blow job. Do you think there’s time before dinner?”

“Dinner can wait,” I say, threading my fingers into the hair at the back of her neck and fisting the silky strands. “And so can blow jobs. I need to be inside you, right fucking now.”

I pull her up by the back of her neck while fisting her hair, her moan of desire as her lips crash into mine assuring me it was the right thing to do. Her arms tremble as they go around my neck, her entire body joining in the vibration as I cup her breast in my free hand, squeezing her fullness as I circle her nipple with my thumb. “God, yes. I’ve been dying for you to touch me. All day, it’s all I could think about.”

“All day,” I agree, kissing her harder, the need for her building even faster than it did in the shower this morning.

She sucks in another sharp breath as I lift her into my arms, guiding her legs around my hips as I carry her over to the chair in the corner, the one with its broad back to the window.

I don’t mind the thought of some stranger seeing what we’re up to—I find it as hot as she does, in fact—but no one is going to see Maya’s face when she comes except me.

I guide her down onto the ottoman lounge, loosening the tie at her waist and spreading the robe open before quickly disposing of the rest of my clothes. The happy sigh that escapes her lips as I lengthen myself on top of her, nudging her thighs wider so I can press the hot length of my cock against where she’s already so hot and wet goes straight to my chest.

“How do you do this?” she asks, whimpering as I roll her nipple tighter between my finger and thumb as she writhes beneath me.

“Do what, beautiful?” I ask, grinding against her clit, sweat breaking out between my shoulders despite the chill in the room. Fighting the urge to take her right now, to slam home and ride her hard and deep is taking more control than it should.

She’s still so new to all this, and probably sore from last night and this morning, but it’s hard to remember that with her slick heat all over my shaft and her nails clawing into my shoulders.

“Make me feel like I’m going to die if I don’t have you?” Her nails drag down to the base of my spine, the slight sting turning me on nearly as much as the lust drunk slur of her words as she begs, “Inside me, Anthony. Please. I want you so much. I want you so deep I can’t feel anything but you.”

Without a beat of hesitation, I give her what she’s begging for.

I enter her in one slow, unrelenting stroke, her gasp as she takes every inch making my head spin.

“Yes, yes,” she chants, lifting into my thrust, taking me just that tiny bit deeper, until my balls are cradled in the soft curves of her ass and the feel of her so hot and tight around me destroys the last of my rational mind.

I’m rougher than I was last night, less controlled, pumping into her hard and fast, until the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, punctuated by her gasps and the occasional curse ripped from my throat. But she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’s right there with me, bucking into my cock.

I shouldn’t come inside her again, but I can’t stop myself. The feel of her pulsing around me as she cries my name calls to some primal part of me, a part that demands I empty my balls inside her.

That I mark her as mine.

That I leave her so well-loved and filled with my come that she’ll never have any reason to go looking for anyone else.

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