Page 77 of The Faking Game

After she kissed me the other day, hesitantly, sweetly, gloriously, I had to take a cold shower. Gripped myself and painted the tiles to the image of her face behind my eyelids.

I shouldn’t think about her that way. Butshouldn’tdoesn’t seem to work.

She was so sweet, kissing me carefully first and then in delight. Like she actually enjoyed it and was surprised by the whole thing. It took every ounce of control in me to not move. To keep my hands in my pockets.

“There’s another couple beside us.” Nora’s voice is breathless. “They’re the ones we’ve been hearing.”

“Oh? What are they doing?”

She leans forward to see, and my lip curves. Her excitement is charming. It’s rare that Vivienne’s parties have open displays of sex like this. If I had known… but now we’re here, and there’s no denying that there’s a dark, twisted pleasure in watching Nora fascinated by sex. It makes my cock throb beneath her thighs.

“He’s eating her out,” she whispers.

Fuck. Her voice, saying those words… I could eat her out. It would be so easy to slide my hand up beneath the virginally white angel dress and brush against her pussy.

To see if she’s wet from watching the others.

She’s Rafe’s little sister. She’s mine to protect and mine to teach how to date, but she’s not mine in any other sense. She’sdefinitelynot mine to taste.

But the guilt doesn’t make my cock deflate.

“I never knew you were such a deviant.” I grip her tighter and shift her forward off my lap. “Time to go, trouble, before you start asking to join in.”

“I wouldn’t,” she says. But her voice is high, excited.

I reach for her hand again. “Think that woman is just performing too?”

“No. I don’t. Her pleasure looks… real.”

I wonder what she looks like when she comes. If the kind, polite, practiced charm falls and she’s just herself again. I don’t think she would be a screamer. I think her breathing would hitch, and she would grow tense, and her back would arch.

“Take your mental picture to use later,” I tell her, “and then we’ll leave.”

Her eyes flash to mine. “I’m not… I wouldn’t…”

I raise an eyebrow. “Everyone does it.”

“I can’t believe you’re talking about that.” She looks flushed. “That’s not something people just mention!”

“You’re watching people have sex in front of you, but you can’t handle talking about masturbation.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Is talking about sex something we need to add to your lessons?”

She bites her lip, and I have to look away. The image of those perfect teeth sinking into plump flesh is doing nothing to help my erection. Thank god it’s dark in here, and thank god the zipper is digging in painfully.

“Maybe, but I’m not sure it’s necessary,” she says.

“Your goal is to date more, right? Get into a relationship?” My words come out a little harsh as I lead her out of the room. Back toward the pulsing bodies on the dance floor and curve toward the staircase.

“Yes,” she says.

“I hate to break it to you, but in relationships, you talk about sex and intimacy. Now let’s get you out of here before you spontaneously combust from curiosity.”

“I’m not curious!”

“Sure you’re not.”

“Maybe a little,” she says, walking in front of me up the stairs. The ivory clings to her slim, curved shape, and that backless dress… Her dark hair plays at her shoulder blades. And her ass is nowrightin front of me.

My fucking hard-on wasjuststarting to surrender.

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