Page 96 of Fake As Puck
“Still want that?”
I look at him. At his mouth. At his hand still hovering like he doesn’t trust himself to move it again.
“No.”
His breath catches. Then he’s kissing me.
My stomach drops straight into my pelvis. This isn’t good. It’s raw, vulnerable, and we’re both hungry… starving for each other.
His hands find my waist and pull me across the couch and suddenly I’m straddling him and there’s nothing slow about this anymore. There’s heat and skin and his hands are under my tank top and my brain cannot keep up in the best way.
He groans into my mouth when I roll my hips just slightly, and his grip tightens like he’s trying to memorize the way I feel.
“Liv,” he whispers against my throat, “tell me to stop.”
I shake my head. “No way in hell.”
He stands and lifts me with him like I weigh nothing, and we stumble toward the hallway. I think we’re going to the bedroom, but we don’t make it. The wall becomes our landing pad.
I kiss him like I’ve been holding back for years.
Because maybe I have.
His hands tug my shirt up and over my head. I fumble with the waistband of his shorts, and he laughs against my mouth when I curse under my breath.
“You in a rush?” he teases.
“You’ve been half-naked for five minutes. I need you now!”
He laughs again, but then he kisses me hard, and I forget what I was even doing.
We make it to the couch again, we’re both out of breath, flushed, half-dressed and completely undone. He lays me back gently, like he’s still trying to be careful with something that’s already broken open between us.
His mouth trails down my neck, across my collarbone, lower.
I gasp and grip his hair.
He hums. Then he slides off his boxers, and my insides are an instant waterfall because his dick is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever thought a penis was beautiful, but let me just say, I have quite a view.
I take off my panties and let them drop to the floor. I see something primal take over his gaze. I no longer have the golden retriever fake boyfriend, I have a man that is not panicking, overthinking, or full of anxiety… no, he is starving, and I’m his meal. My insides pulse at the sight of him like this.
He wants me.
He moves towards me and starts kissing every part of my body. I start shaking because I didn’t expect to be worshiped. I thought he wanted to get it in as quickly as possible, but no, West is taking his time as he kisses me. His wet lips feel like a burn every time they land, and I moan.
His lips find my hip, and a louder moan slips out.
“West,” I breathe, shaky, pleading.
He groans against my skin, and now my hip is like a damn hotspot with molten lava. His fingers slide between my thighs, finding me wet and ready. He strokes me, slow and deliberate.
I’m trembling now, grasping anything I can to hold on. I reach for his beautiful cock because I’m too damn excited and impatient. I grip his hard and hot length, pumping slowly.
His muscles flex, a groan ripping from his throat.
I watch, thrilled, as his jaw clenches.
“Liv,” he rasps, voice thick with want.
