Page 70 of How To Fake A Fiancé

Something about him saying my name makes me wetter than before.

I lick every ridge and vein of his cock. He holds onto my head, guiding me up and down his shaft. His breathing quickens.

I never do this, yet with him it’s so easy.

It’s true; I don’t. Even during hookups, I’ve refused to orally pleasure a guy. Not just because I never know where their dicks have been in the past, but because I always saw it as too personal. Too intimate. But Ian? Something about being with him, intimately or otherwise, assures me he is a safe space to be in. To explore anything and everything without judgment.

No. That’s just wishful thinking.

I need to focus on the task at hand. Any moment of weakness and he’ll spot it, taking back control.

I continue bobbing my head up and down as I pick up the pace. With the part of his length I can’t fit into my mouth, I use one hand to stroke down to the base, while I have the other cup and massage his balls. His grip on my head tightens even more, telling me he likes it.

His heavy breathing begins to turn into moans. At this rate, he’ll reach climax soon. The faster I work, the more he gyrates his hips.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels… Oh, god. I’m close,” he groans.

This must be what it feels like for him to have control over me. His pleasure is in my hands. I can give it to him just as quickly as I can take it away. Though this particular moment is a must for what needs to happen, I can’t help but want his mouth on me, too. The urge to pleasure myself at the same time becomes tempting.

I feel his balls beginning to tighten in my grasp when all of a sudden, he pulls me from his cock, up to my feet, and into his arms.

“What are you doing?” I protest. I swear, this man must be crazy.

“Darlin’, as much as I’d love to fuck your mouth, there’s still so many things I want to do to you first.” Before I can respond, he throws me to the middle of the bed. I gasp at the sudden freefall. I’m frozen in the middle of the mattress. Did that really just happen?

Recovering from the initial shock, I start to sit up when he climbs on top of me, forcing me to lay my head back down. Both his hands are on either side of my head. He’s nestled himself between my legs.

Yet in this moment, as I stare into his hazel eyes, all the reasons why I shouldn’t let him have the upper hand seem to melt away.

Ian

She wraps her sinful mouth around my cock. Every push, pull, and glide of her tongue against my most sensitive skin feels like utter bliss as it threatens to push me over the edge into oblivion. Fuck, I want this so bad. But somehow in my euphoric fog, the head up north kicks in.

Something isn’t right.

I want to enjoy this, but the nagging thought about Kami’s come-on won’t leave me alone. How can a woman, who has expressed her need for independence in anything and everything she does, be willing to bare herself to me in this moment without any snide retort or resistance? As great as this is, why is she all of a sudden so willing? Is she rewarding me for something? No, that doesn’t sound right.

Pleasure spikes again, obliterating my thoughts, along with my brain, as she continues to suck me deep and hard.

Whatever the reason she has for tonight, this is happening now, and I have every intention of taking advantage. She knows as well as I do that she likes it when I’m on top.

Pulling her off her knees, I throw her onto the bed and climb on top of her. With my hands on either side of her head and her legs spread and draped over my thighs, she has nowhere to go.

Suddenly, her feminine musk fills my nostrils. She wants this. She wants me.

The view I have of her is even more beautiful. Her curly hair splayed over the pillows. Her berry nipples greeting me in a stiff salute. Her lips swollen.

Whatever her goal is, mine is about connection, telling her I’m not going anywhere. That I mean every word and action. I want to be hers, and I think she wants to be mine.

“Ian,” she pleads in a whisper to me. Our faces inches from each other, there’s that stare again. She’s debating with herself. She wants this to happen just as much as I do. The question is, what’s holding her back? If it’s not physical, could it be emotional? If she didn’t want to be emotionally compromised, then what are we doing?

I have said everything I could to convince her I want her for her. Maybe it’s time I let our bodies do the talking. Tell her, in my own way, I want her for life.

In this moment, we are the only ones who can save each other from the fiery oblivion that we’re about to experience together. She is my lifeline, and I am hers.

I crash my lips to her pillowy soft ones as I nudge her feminine flesh with my erection. She gasps as I swallow her moans and cries. Fuck, this feels so good as electricity sizzles in my veins. The contact is just as I remember. Better even.

All day, I kept thinking about what would happen if I gave her what she thought she wanted. That I walk out of her life. But then I realized I have more reasons to stay than I do to go. She thinks she has to be alone when she doesn’t. Walking out on her is not only too painful to contemplate, but it’s also the last thing she needs, whether she admits it or not.

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