Page 61 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
He came in a few seconds later with the wine. “Oh, I see how this is going to go.”
I stretched out on the bed and put my hands behind my head. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t done with me. Or was that my imagination?”
“Oh no. I’m definitely not done with you.” He gave me a little peep show while he slid off his jeans. “In fact, I’m having trouble deciding which of my evil plans to undertake. What would you like to do?”
“Fielder’s choice. Fuck me, make me suck you. Take me any way you want.” My cock had already plumped up at the thought of him fucking me. At Epic’s age, he probably never even got soft. I hoped I could give as good as I got. “If you want me to fuck you—”
“Not tonight.” He came forward, cock standing proud in a nest of dark hair. “Tonight, I’m tapping your sweet ass, Ryan Winslow.”
I shivered. “It’s all yours.”
“Yeah?” He started from the bottom of the bed and crawled over to loom above me. “Whatever I want?”
“Anything.”
“Mm.” He swigged champagne straight from the bottle and leaned over to kiss me. When I opened my mouth, the crisp dry wine flooded in, bubbles bursting between our tongues.
“Warn a guy, will you?” I gave a little cough.
“You are so sweet.” He held the bottle for me to drink more. I sipped slowly; my head already swimming. When I was done, he licked stray droplets from my lips, then slid lower and lower still. He tongued my navel, which tickled, and lifted my knees over his shoulders to plunder my cock, balls, and taint where even his breath drove me crazy with lust.
I never expected Epic to be so…fearless, so confident and knowing, yet there we were. He licked over my hole a couple times and then his thumb followed, gently rubbing the rim.
“Lube and condoms are in the drawer there.”
Surprised, I rolled my torso to take a look. “Really?”
“I like to be prepared.”
“Pretty sure of yourself,” I muttered as I handed them over.
“I’m a sure thing. I hoped you’d be.”
“Cheeky.”
“Who’s talking?” He squeezed one of my butt cheeks and then did something with two thumbs that made my whole body come alive.
“That’s…amazing.”
“You’re really tight.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “Are you worried about something?”
“It’s been a while.” I clenched the sheets.
His blue eyes narrowed. “Okay.”
“It’s fine. I’m not made of glass.”
“I can take my time.” Even though his cock leaked strings of precum onto the pale linen sheets, I believed he’d take all the time in the world.
I was the problem because my brain wouldn’t shut up.
He did wonderful things to my body, but I couldn’t help picking each tiny annoyance apart. It was too quiet. The lights were still on. If he looked down at me, he’d see every flaw, hear every creak of my aging bones and every groan and grunt I made.
Maybe when you’re twenty-three you don’t mind getting fucked in a room lit like a surgical suite with no sound besides your gasping breaths, but at my age, I preferred a little camouflage. Some music, maybe. Candlelight. A partner just drunk enough to forgive me for a blemish or a scar.
I definitely wished we had music, and then I remembered I could program the system in our suite from my phone. I picked my phone up, and Epic froze.
“I must really be doing a great job if you’re checking your messages.”
