Page 67 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
“Don’t worry. I am.” I tried to stand, but my knees buckled. “Usually.”
“Whoa there.” He caught my arm and wrapped it over his shoulders. “Steady, big fella.”
“Fuck. You.” I let him help me inside because I could barely walk on my rubbery legs. “How am I going to do this?”
“One step at a time, sweetheart.” He helped me into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “I’m going to get you cleaned up and help you dress. By that time, you’ll feel fine.”
“I doubt I’ll be fine for a week.”
“Flatterer.” True to his word, Epic soaped every inch of my body and helped me rinse. I got a scalp massage when he washed my hair. I couldn’t think when I’d last been treated so gently—so carefully—by anyone but my mom.
He left the plug inside me.
I had to give him props. There seemed no better way to say fuck you to Luis than to be wearing Epic’s plug, thinking of Epic’s gentle fingers, dreaming of his sweet mouth on my cock while I suffered through Luis’s nuptials.
The only problem was my constant state of arousal. The cut of my jacket would hide it, but I had no illusions about what it would mean to traverse a receiving line that included European nobility with a boner.
“I am so going to hell for this.”
“I’ll be right beside you.” Epic kissed my neck and ruffled my hair with a towel. “It’s okay if I wear my earrings, right?”
“Of course.”
“You’ll wear your pin?”
“I already put it on my lapel.”
The rest of our preparations passed by in a flurry of warmth and kisses and Epic everywhere. I dressed in a lust-drunk haze.
For the first time in my adult life, I had to rely on someone else for every little thing. Helplessness made me uncomfortable, and yet…this felt bearable. I’d gone long past needing to come and arrived somewhere entirely new—down a rabbit hole of Epic’s making.
I trusted Epic to take care of me at Luis’s wedding.
The rest of my worries simply dropped away.
We shaved side by side. Combined products and styled our hair. I spritzed on cologne, and he used his own scent. We spent ten minutes telling each other how delicious we smelled.
I tied both our ties, having a better command of the Windsor knot.
Epic’s retro tuxedo turned out to be a sixties mod, four-button, black wool jacket with black velvet piping around the collar and lapels. Underneath, he wore a notch-collar waistcoat that came up all the way to the knot of his tie. Impossibly slim trousers stopped above his bare ankles. He completed the look with patent leather oxfords.
“You look like a Beatle.”
“Grandma bought it for me. She says the mod boys used to make her swoon.”
Same, Grandma.Same…
After we fussed and preened and took selfies—which he sent to all his friends and I stored like some demented squirrel hoarding acorns for a long, cold winter—we were ready to leave. At the last minute, he remembered our sunglasses. He set mine on my nose with care.
“Are you still feeling a little spacey?” he asked.
I nodded. “Is that normal?”
“I think I played with you a little too hard for your first time.”
"You think?" His worried frown made me want to reassure him. Kiss him. Smack his ass for putting me in this position.
“I want you to know I’ll be right by your side. I know what you need. Do you trust me?”
