Page 209 of The Faking Game

And against my cock, I feel her growing wetter.

“I’m going to check every time now,” I say, and thrust between her thighs again. “Before you leave the house, I’m going to have to bring you in here and have you pull up your dress to show me.”

She nods and gasps when I spank her left cheek. We’ve had sex more than a dozen times by now. I’ve been inside her side by side, holding her into the cradle of my body, early one morning while she whispered that she loved me. She’s ridden me again, brave and beautiful above me, and I’ve made her shatter beneath me.

But we’ve never fucked from behind like this. Not standing up.

She’s wet against my cock, and I finally notch myself at her hot entrance. I grip her hip with my other hand and push in an inch.

“This is what’ll happen, sweetheart, if you do this again.” I hold her still and slide in slowly to the hilt. Groan out a low-pitchedfuck. “You’re too damn pretty to walk around bare. I’ll fuck you if you do.”

She looks over her shoulder, and she’s glorious. “Is that meant to deter me?”

Her heat makes it hard to think. It’s always been that way, from the very first time, being inside her. It strips me down to the basest instincts.

I spank her again. Buried inside her, I can feel the faint vibrations, and control spins out of my grasp. Holding her hips for leverage, I start thrusting.

The ring I have for her, my grandmother’s, lies in the pocket of my pants. I’m going to give it to her later this evening, at dinner.

Ask her for real.

She’s mine.

With every stroke inside her, I tell her how good she is, how perfect she feels, how well she’s taking it. Her muscles flutter around me. She’s never come from penetration alone, but she’s close.

Her phone rings.

It echoes from somewhere around her waist, where her skirt is bunched up. From a pocket?

I pause, hands on the handholds of her hips. She fumbles with the folded fabric. I lean forward, still buried deep inside, and look over her shoulder.

We both see the name flashing over the screen.

It’s her modeling agent.

Nora blows out a breath. Her thumb moves to end the call.

“Don’t,” I say. “Answer her.”

She pauses. “What?”

“Tell her you’re done modeling. For good.” Nora spoke to Rafe about it a few days ago, when he was still in New York. She’s gearing up to tell her mother.

This is a good start.

“I can’t. We’re… you’re…”

“You can do anything.”

She laughs, quick and breathless, and lifts the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

Every muscle in my body aches to keep moving. I grit my teeth and stay still. She’s so hot and tight around me.

“Next month? I’m not sure…” Nora says. I roll my hips, and her breath catches. “No, I am sure. I’m not available.”

There’s a beat of silence when her agent responds, and I use the time to reach around her body to find her clit. I press down in hard circles.

She reaches up, braces her free hand against the wall. “No, I’m done with modeling. I’m not available. Ever.”

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