Page 6 of How To Fake A Fiancé

Why him?

That one question is repeated in the back of my mind, but I can’t seem to get past the fog that’s formed in my head. My mind, as well as my thoughts, are all but out the window.

He’s hot, knows what he’s doing from what I can tell, and is so far better than most guys and my vibrator combined.

His lips pull from mine, now traveling up and down my neck. I move my hips to the rhythm of his.

I need him closer, naked, and inside me. Now.

I’m so deep into my head space, and so hypnotized by his scent, kisses, and caresses, I barely notice the ding of the elevator. We pull away from each other long enough to see the now-open threshold. Both of us breathe heavily.

“Shall we?” He gently lets me down to the ground, offering the crook of his arm. I let him guide me down the hallway and to the hotel room. Such a small gesture sends a ripple of pleasure down to my girl parts.

It’s one thing to feel lust for him. After all, the man is hot enough to stop traffic. But what I’m feeling between us? This is different.

I didn’t anticipate his ability to wow me like that in the elevator, much less in our conversation down at the bar. He’s different than what I was expecting, for sure. He’s a gentleman, he seems very open and honest about himself, sincere, and has the same sense of humor that I do. A rarity that I find hard to believe exists.

You don’t meet a guy like that every day.

I hear my mom’s voice in my head before shoving it from the forefront of my mind. That’s the last voice I need to be hearing.

“Ladies first.” He gestures as he opens the door to our room, using the card key and then propping the door open.

As soon as I walk in and the door closes with a thud behind us, I turn to Ian. Those hazel eyes are now not only filled with lust and desire, but also hunger.

He scoops me up into his arms, then lowers me onto the edge of the soft comforter. His lips ravage mine once more.

I grab for his pants, working to get the buttons undone while he unzips the back of my dress.

In seconds, I feel a cool breeze against my upper back, followed by his warm hand. I watch as his pants fall to his ankles. His hard-as-stone erection greets me underneath the constraints of his underwear.

I reach for the waistband, about to pull down and let his dick spring free, when he grabs a firm hold of my wrists in both hands, stopping me.

Confused, I look up at him as he pushes me down onto my back, placing my hands with his over my head. His touch is gentle, but firm. He towers over me.

How can this man exist? I have to be dreaming. This feels too genuine, too right. The remnants of my mind that isn’t consumed by this pleasure tell me to pull back before he has the chance to cause serious damage. Yet everything in my body is telling me to give all of myself to him.

Long moments seem to pass as we lock stares on each other. As though he were trying to get under my skin, read my inner most thoughts and emotions. Perhaps even get me to feel things I never thought I could.

If I wasn’t so enamored by him, I’d say he’s borderline creepy. Instead, his heated gaze on me has the sensation between my thighs growing stronger. It all feels too much yet not enough.

Not only because I don’t know what to say, but also I want this man to rip my clothes off, I whisper the first thing that comes to mind. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

He chuckles with a quirky grin. “I’m sorry. I just…don’t do this all that often. I’d like for us to take our time.”

Take our time? He wants an orgasm just as much as I do, so why the wait? Why the foreplay? Didn’t he get enough of that in the elevator?

I’m about to verbally disagree, that or get to the point myself, when he captures my lips again with his. His deepening, passionate kisses are a dream compared to the drunken slobbering I know all too well.

My mind is screaming at me to get a grip, but clearly my body has taken all control and started the thinking for me. But the more he has of me, the deeper I find myself in his scent, his touch, his…everything. Whatever this rabbit hole of his is, I’m more than happy to travel down it with him.

I feel his hand at my inner thigh slowly travel up. My heart races, and my breathing quickens as he inches closer and closer to my needy core.

He gently presses a thumb against that sensitive nub over my soaked thong. I let out something between a gasp and a moan as the sensations of his slow and concise circles start to hit me.

Immediately, I buck my hips. Anything for him to go faster. He’s so purposely slow that it’s agonizing.

“Oh, my god. Please, I need…”

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