Page 63 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
That was being a fake boyfriend with style.
He came back to bed and kissed me until I relaxed that fractional bit more. After, his thumb slid inside me easily.
“There’s my boy,” he said from between my legs. “Relax now, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Hell yeah, he had me. I gave a shuddering sigh. “Mm.”
He used more lube, and more fingers, and his mouth on my balls and dick to make me so ready I could have cried. Foil rustled. He lifted my knees.
“This okay?” he asked. “You want this, Ryan?”
“Yes.” I never knew how sexy consent could be until now—until Epic made me articulate how much I wanted him with each step. I was down to words of one syllable. “Yes, yes,yes.”
He breached me slowly and with aching tenderness. I felt no pain, not even the usual pinch and burn, just the inexorable glide of his cock deeper and deeper into my body.
I clenched his shoulders because he felt huge—so much bigger than I expected, although I’d seen his cock, so I didn’t know why I was surprised. He filled me, going so deep that when he bottomed out, I spasmed around him, giving a weird sort of all-over shake like a wet dog.
“God.” He simply stayed there, sort of gathering me to him, and everything between us vibrated with excitement—each breath, each shiver, each muscle, the bones of his hips against mine.
His hands clasped my ass, and my feet brushed his thighs, and when he pulled out and shoved back inside me, everything went a little haywire from there.
He fucked me, and I bucked against him, and this time no one was treating anybody like glass. The way he moved squeezed my cock against his belly with each thrust, ratcheting up the tension in my balls and dampening my skin.
His hands went everywhere, gripping me, gaining purchase and leveraging all his strength for the single purpose of going deeper, and mine had to touch him everywhere. Worship him. Smooth and soothe the hot skin of his back, over his ribs, down his buttocks while he used me.
It couldn’t last, and it didn’t. My orgasm started in the center of my being and radiated outward, vibrating every part of me, raising the hair on my skin and letting loose in a slick frenzied series of jerks against the taut muscles of his belly.
“Good boy. Oh God. So pretty.” Epic cupped my face in both hands and kissed me while I shuddered with pleasure. He ground his hips against mine, dragging out more electric tingles inside me. Then he stiffened and blew apart in my arms.
I don’t know how long we lay there panting, kissing, and laughing until he whispered, “Steady. Pulling out.”
“Mm.” That time I did feel a bit of a burn, but that was all I could feel. The rest of my body floated somewhere where nothing could touch me. I couldn’t feel my legs. If there’d been a fire, I couldn’t have gotten to my feet if I’d tried.
Epic rolled to the side and tossed the condom somewhere. I didn’t care unless I ended up stepping on it. He could be pretty fastidious. I doubted he’d let that happen.
I rubbed my dry lips together and rolled so I could stare at him. I thumbed sweat from his forehead and swept his bangs aside so I could read his expression. He turned his head toward me, lip caught between his teeth.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
“I know I am.” He shoved a pillow under his head. “But thanks for saying so.”
I gave his shoulder a push. “Goofball.”
He pushed back lightly. Mostly for show.
Somehow, I managed to sit up and get the champagne. “Sip?”
He blinked. “Sure.”
I passed the bottle to him. He took a swallow and passed it back.
“Give me a minute”—he groaned and sat up—“and I’ll bring you a dessert picnic in bed.”
He didn’t look like he wanted dessert. He looked ready to fall asleep.
Was Epic one of those guys who dropped off after sex?
