Page 56 of Faking It For Real

I leaned in and kissed her.

To my relief, Mia responded immediately, her hand coming up to rest against my cheek as the kiss deepened.

Time seemed to suspend as we lost ourselves in each other. Her lips were soft, tasting faintly of the chocolate dessert from the formal. I cradled her face in my hands, marveling at the smoothness of her skin, the gentle sigh that escaped her as my thumb traced her cheekbone.

When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, I found myself unwilling to let the moment end.

"Do you want to go somewhere more private?" I asked, my voice low.

She looked at me for a long moment, something conflicted crossing her features before she nodded with a small, nervous smile. "Yes."

The walk back to my apartment was charged with anticipation, our hands linked, occasional glances confirming we were both thinking the same thing. Dylan had texted earlier that he was heading to an after-party with Olivia, meaning we'd have the place to ourselves.

As I unlocked the door, a moment of doubt crept in. What were we doing? Was this crossing a line in our arrangement? But when Mia stepped past me into the dimly lit apartment and turned to look at me with those expressive eyes, all questions faded.

The click of my apartment door closing felt different. It wasn't just shutting out the campus or the chill night air. It felt like shutting out the pretense, the carefully constructed lines we'd drawn around ourselves. Watching Mia shrug off my jacket – the deep blue silk of her dress shimmering in the soft light – I felt a wave of something potent and unfamiliar wash over me. It wasn't just desire, though there was plenty of that. It was possession. A need to claim this moment, this feeling.

She turned to face me, a faint blush still coloring her cheeks, her eyes wide and questioning.

"Mia," I started, my voice sounding rougher than I intended.

I didn't wait for her reply. Stepping forward, I closed the distance between us, my hands coming up to gently frame her face. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as I leaned in. The kiss started soft, tentative, a question asked without words. Her lips parted slightly, inviting me in, and the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate. Her hands, initially hesitant, slid under my suit jacket, palms pressing flat against my back, pulling me closer. I could feel the slight tremble in her fingers.

Breaking the kiss felt like surfacing for air. We just looked at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily. Her lipstick was slightly smeared, and I had the absurd urge to fix it with my thumb. Instead, my hands slid down her shoulders, fingers catching the zipper at the back of her dress.

"Can I?"

She nodded, her gaze locked with mine. I drew the zipper down slowly, savoring the reveal of the smooth skin of her back. The blue silk slid easily, pooling around her ankles with a soft rustle. She stood before me in delicate, lacy black underwear and heels, looking absurdly vulnerable and incredibly sexy. My cock gave a hard throb against my trousers. I took a steadying breath, fighting the urge to rush. This needed to be different. Real.

Her fingers went to the knot of my tie, loosening it with surprisingly steady hands before sliding it free. Then she started on the buttons of my dress shirt, her knuckles brushing against my skin, sending jolts through my system. She pushed the shirt off my shoulders, her eyes widening slightly as she took in my bare chest. I saw the flicker of appreciation in her gaze, and it fueled the fire building inside me.

"You're stunning," she murmured, her fingertips tracing the line of my collarbone.

I bent down, scooping her effortlessly into my arms. She let out a surprised gasp, her arms instinctively wrapping around my neck. I carried her the few steps into my bedroom, the scent of her floral perfume filling my senses. I laid her on the center of my bed, the dark duvet contrasting sharply with her pale skin and black lingerie.

She looked up at me, apprehension warring with desire in her eyes. I leaned down, supporting myself on one hand beside her head, using the other to gently trace the curve of her ass, the dip of her waist.

My hands began to explore, relearning the shape of her. I skimmed over the lace of her bra, thumbs brushing the swell of her breasts before moving lower, my fingers tracing patterns on the flat plane of her stomach. She arched slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

I wanted to taste her, all of her. My mouth trailed down her neck, lingering where her pulse beat frantically, then moving lower, across her collarbone. I flicked my tongue across the lacy edge of her bra before drawing the delicate fabric down, freeing her breasts. They were perfect, round and full, the nipples tight little buds. I took one into my mouth, laving it gently, suckling until she gasped my name, her fingers clenching in my hair. I gave the other breast equal attention, reveling in her response, the way her ass tilted up off the bed.

My kisses trailed lower, over her ribs, pausing at her navel. Her breathing was shallow, ragged. I eased the lacy black panties down her hips, tossing them aside. She was exquisite, laid bare before me. I looked up, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, luminous, trusting. That trust was a responsibility I embraced fully.

"Ethan," she breathed, uncertain.

"Shh," I whispered, lowering my head. "Let me..."

I tasted her pussy then. Her scent filled my head, musky and sweet. I explored her delicately at first, learning her folds, her clit. She moaned softly, her legs parting further, granting me deeper access. My tongue delved, slick and insistent, stroking her clit with growing confidence as I felt her arousal build. She cried out, a sharp, keening sound as her climax seized her. I held her hips steady, murmuring praise against her slick skin.

When her trembling subsided, she looked dazed, beautiful. But there was a determined glint in her eyes now. Before I could fully recover, she pushed at my shoulders. "My turn," she whispered, her voice husky.

I let her guide me onto my back, slightly stunned by her assertiveness. She straddled my hips, her weight settling against me. Slowly, she began to explore me with her hands, tracing the muscles of my chest, teasing my nipples until they hardened, running her fingers down my stomach, circling my navel. My breath hitched when her hand finally closed around my cock, already painfully hard.

She bent low, her hair falling around us like a curtain, her hot breath ghosting over the head of my dick. Then her mouth closed over me. My eyes slammed shut. It was torture, exquisite and unbearable. She took my cock deep, her tongue working magic, her hand stroking my shaft in perfect rhythm. I groaned, my hands fisting in the duvet. Control, always my default setting, dissolved completely under her skillful ministrations. I tangled my fingers in her hair, not pulling, just anchoring myself.

"Mia, fuck," I gasped out. "That feels..."

"Good?" she murmured against my dick, before taking me deeper still.

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