Page 68 of Play Pretend

“This poor fucking girl, dude,” he said quietly. “Can you imagine feeling like the only way to gain any amount of approval from your family is to lie to them? To pretend like you’re dating some random guy you barely know, just so they’ll hopefully treat you a little better?”

“I don’t think anyone is treating her better for having a boyfriend.” I sighed. “I feel fucking terrible, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

And that was the crux of it all: Icouldn’tfix it. This was a messy, twisted dynamic between Willow and her father that went back decades. It wasn’t something I could swoop in and repair. I couldn’t protect her from her feelings or her trauma. I had to stand by and let her endure it. I could help her wade through the muck, but that was all I could do.

I couldn’t take it away. I couldn’t do anything.

I was helpless, and that put me on edge.

“Did she write about any dates you went on?” Theo asked. I got to my feet and strode through my small house to my bedroom. Sinking onto the edge of my bed, I put my phone on speaker and grabbed the notebook. I flipped it open and scanned each entry.

“There are a few specific ones,” I said, trailing my finger over the scribbled words. “She was oddly detailed, down to the type of flowers I bought her.”

“So…recreate them.”

I stared at the loopy writing, letting Theo’s words sink in. “Recreate them?” I repeated.

“She’s basically given you a playbook of what she wants,” he said. “Give her everything she’s written about. She wants special flowers? Give her special flowers. She wants a steak dinner? Make her a steak dinner. She wants?—”

“I get it,” I muttered. I was quiet for a few breaths, just letting the idea roll around in my head. “You really think that’ll work?”

“She’ll fall in love with you,” he said seriously, his words sending a jolt of electricity through my body.

Love was a big word—the biggest four-letter word in the universe. Did I want that? Love? Did I want to be with her forever? Because if I did this, if she fell for me, I couldn’t break her heart. I couldn’t give her everything, only to rip it away.

I had to be sure.

I drummed my fingers against the paper. Faint music floated through the wall, and I could almost see Willow dancing around her house, floating from room to room with her dress flowing around her legs. My eyes drifted shut, the fantasy playing out in my head as if it were happening right before me.

A smile would be on her face, and her hair would be twisted into a messy bun. I’d walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, holding her close to my chest. She would press her ass against me, and we’d dance together, the only light in the room from the open fridge.

I could feel the warmth of her body, smell the sweetness lingering in her hair from a day of baking. Her laugh would tinkle through the air as I pressed my lips against the curve of her neck, kissing her soft skin.

My cock hardened in my jeans, and I dragged my palms over my thighs. I could do it—I could fall in love with her. It would be so fucking easy to do; maybe the easiest thing I’d ever done.

“Ro?”

My eyes flew open, and my heart hammered against my chest. I scrambled to grab my phone, turning it off speaker and pressing it to my ear with a shaky hand.

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry,” I said, my voice raspy. “I—I’m going to do it. Yeah. Thanks, Theo. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You good?” He laughed, but I ignored him as I hung up and tossed my phone to the bed beside me. I fell back, the air rushing out of my lungs as I stared up at the ceiling.

My cock was still hard, and I swore I could still smell her cinnamony, vanilla scent. I let my eyes close again, and I sank back into that safe fantasy world with her.

Images flashed through my mind—Willow on her back, her legs spread, her full breasts bared for me. Her rosy nipples erect as I pinched them between my teeth, her moans soft and breathy.

She’d be hot and wet as I sank into her, and the sounds she would make would be somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

My hand drifted down my body, and I easily undid my belt and jeans. I tugged them open enough to pull my aching cock out, the tip already leaking with precum. The liquid spread across my bulbous tip as I swiped my thumb over it, teasing myself.

Willow’s face flashed behind my eyes, and I wrapped my hand around my hot length. Slowly, I dragged up, squeezing and twisting. A moan pushed up my throat, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out along my forehead.

“Fuck,” I groaned, my voice too loud in the room.

I worked myself faster, my thighs trembling with the pleasure of it all. Reaching over, I blindly grabbed my pillow and pressed it over my face. My teeth sank into the soft fabric as I fucked my hand harder, imagining I was slamming into her tight pussy, letting it swallow me whole.

How would she say my name? Breathy and quiet like a prayer? Or would she scream it for the whole world to hear? Would she want me to mark her with my bite, or paint her stomach white with my cum?

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