Page 130 of The Faking Game

West’s eyes are locked on mine. “There’s no way you can touch me that won’t turn me on.”

“Tell me,” I insist.

“All right. The speed you’re going right now?” He looks down, his abs drawn tight. “That’s good. That’s perfect. If you speed it up just a bit, it’ll be game over. If you want to draw it out, you can slow down or grip my balls.”

I slow down and grip his cock tighter. “Like this?”

“Yes. Exactly like… that.” His chest expands with another deep breath. “Look at you being such a good girl, learning how to please me.”

A hot flush spreads up my chest, and I press my thighs together tighter. “And if I speed up…”

I do just that, the skin beneath my grip smooth now with the wetness already dripping off his head. West groans again, his hips shifting up and into my grip. “Fuck. Yes.”

“You’re close.”

“Very,” he grits out. His eyes are locked on mine, his breathing labored. Every muscle in his large body looks locked down. Like he’s a coiled spring, ready and aching to move, but he remembers his promise that he won’t.

He groans loudly, like he’s ripping apart with pain. His hips buck up once in my hand, and then he comes in thick spurts up his stomach. His cock twitches in my grip, and I stroke the base of him, watching until the very last drop leaves him.

He relaxes against the bed. The body that was wound so tightly just a few moments ago is loose now.

I’ve never seen so much spend before. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of a guy coming inside me, but that much? Surely it would drip out.

I reach out, curious, and run a finger through the fluid on his abdomen. It’s slick and warm between my fingers. “There’s so much of it.”

West is watching me. His pupils are blown wide, his arms still locked behind his head. He looks like he’s run a marathon. He looks like he’s won the lottery. “Just when I think you can’t make my ego any bigger,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. You’re pretty as a fucking picture,” he says, “and you just killed me.”

His cock is still half hard, resting against his thigh. I reach out and run a finger over it, and West grits his teeth. “Careful. Sensitive.”

“Right. Just like me.”

“Just like you. Can I move now?”

I sit back on my haunches. “Depends on what you’re planning to do.”

“I want to hold you,” he says, and pulls his T-shirt down to wipe himself off. “That’s what I’m planning to do. And tell you how good you just did.”

I stretch out beside him. “Yes. You can do that.”

“Thank fucking god.” He turns his face against my hair, and mutters absurd, ridiculous praise that seeps into my bones like warm honey. How good I was, how proud he is, how well I did. How I’m a natural and his cock has never been that hard before. How he felt like he might die if I didn’t let him come.

“My brave, beautiful girl. I didn’t know seeing your curiosity would be such a turn-on. But it was. Did it help that I couldn’t move?”

“Yes,” I say. The butterflies turn over in my stomach. I love the feeling of them now. We’ve become friends. “But I think you can move the next time.”

He kisses my neck. “Thank god.”

WEST & RAFE

Rafe

I don’t like that he came that close. That he was in the same room as her.

West

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