Page 8 of Pucking Fake

"Do you actually cook in here or is it just for show like the rest of your ridiculously fancy house?" she asks, running her fingertips along the marble island…where she'll be in about two point five seconds.

"Oh, I cook. I eat." I smirk, pushing away from the wall to stalk after her. "I'm starving right now as a matter of fact."

"You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach. The odds of a hangover are…" She trails off with an adorable squeak when I press myself up against her from behind, caging her in against the island.

"I'm not thinking about eating food, Peyton," I growl, nuzzling my face up against her throat as my hands settle on her hips, hauling her back against me. We fit like puzzle pieces slotting together, hard against soft. The sensation of her in my arms is addictive.

She's soft and sweet, and she smells incredible. Best damn thing I've ever had my hands on. Is tying her to my bed and keeping her there permanently an option? I'm guessing not. Goddammit.

Rules are bullshit constructs meant to make a man as rabid as possible.

"M-maybe you should e-eat then," she says, resting her head back against my chest.

"Can't," I grunt, curving my hand around her jaw to angle her head.

Her lips part slightly, her glossy eyes locked with mine. "Why not?"

"Don't know what those lips feel like yet. I can't eat the rest of you before I even experience a taste of that heaven." I brush my nose along hers, eliciting a shiver from her. "I've been thinking about it since you stole our beer."

"Borrowed. I borrowed your beer."

"Same difference," I growl, swooping to get a taste of that fucking mouth. She whimpers as soon as my lips touch hers, and I realize two things simultaneously. One, I was wrong earlier. I wasn't done for as soon as she stole our beer. I'm done for right now. And two, I need to hear her making that sound while she's coming all over me. Immediately.

I spin her in my arms, pressing her back against the counter until she's bowed over it, completely at my mercy.

"Goddamn," I groan, nipping her bottom lip. "You taste like sugar."

"You taste like beer."

"Had a glass before you stole it."

"Borrowed, Logan.Borrowed…oh!" Her hands fly to my hair, tugging when I boost her gorgeous ass up onto the island, fitting myself between her thick thighs.

Peyton Cloud does not play fair. As soon as I'm between her legs, she wraps them around my waist, using her grip on my hair to drag me back to her mouth. Her aggression is sexy as all hell. My cock has never been this fucking hard before…and I was a teenager with unfettered access to the internet once upon a time.

I lick into her mouth, growling at how fucking sweet she is. She responds by tentatively touching her tongue to mine. Somethingabout the way she's so confident one minute and so shy the next sets my blood on fire.

I run my hands all over her, reveling in the way she responds to me. She's trembling beneath me, arching into my touch. Her head falls back on a moan when I roll one hard nipple between my fingers.

"Logan, oh my god. Keep doing that," she demands, squirming in bliss.

"I'd rather do it with my teeth."

"Yes. Do that instead."

I chuckle, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

"Wait!" Her eyes fly to mine, her expression suddenly nervous.

"I want to see this gorgeous body while I'm all over you," I murmur, stroking my thumbs along her sides. "I promise I'll be a gentleman."

"Liar." Her lips twitch before her expression softens. "You think I'm gorgeous?"

"I'm ready to come in my fucking pants just from touching you, Peyton." I grab her hand, placing it on my cock so she can feel the truth for herself. Her hand trembles beneath mine before she squeezes me. "Goddamn," I groan, bucking into her hand. "Keep that up, and that's exactly what's going to happen."

"I wouldn't mind. It's kind of hot," she whispers.

"I'd mind," I growl, leaning down to kiss her again. There's no way I'm coming in my pants when I could be coming in her. Fuck that noise.