Page 15 of Kicking it with my Fake Fiancé
It didn’t take long until I was fully hard, and I groaned as I gripped my cock and slid my fist along the length several times. I stroked faster, one hand pressed against the shower wall, my head dropped forward, the shower pounding my back. I imagined how it would feel to have Jared there with me, kissing me, trailing his lips to my neck and throat, his hand wrapped around my shaft. My breathing tightened and my heart pounded, precum pulsing from the crown of my cock.
A moan escaped me, quiet and low, and I imagined how Jared would look if he were there, his shaggy dark hair wet from the shower, rivers of water pouring down his firm chest, tanned skin flush from the heat.
In my mind, Jared whispered my name into the curve of my ear, and I shivered at the thought. I gripped my cock harder, stroking faster, and soon I was teetering on the edge of release.
“Jared,” I murmured, barely audible even to my own ears, as my orgasm crashed into me and spurt after spurt of my release hit the shower wall.
Once I was spent, I took several deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to calm myself, rinsed off and cleaned away my mess, and turned off the shower. I dried off quickly and pulled back on my pajama pants before shuffling into the bedroom to find clothes, the cool air from the air conditioner chilling me and causing tiny chill bumps to raise on my skin.
Jared lay awake, scrolling on his phone, and he rolled to face me with a grin. If I didn’t know better, I’d be sure it was a knowing, cocky smile on his face, and that he’d figured me out. It was impossible, but I felt my cheeks blaze with guilt anyway, and spun away before he could see.
“Good morning,” he said to my back.
“Good morning.” I ran my fingers through my damp hair and pulled a t-shirt on. “Are you ready for your big trip to Kristiansand?” Once I was dressed, I turned back to Jared to find him standing, shirtless and stretching his arms toward the sky. The long, tight lines of his body stirred something in me, and if I hadn’t just gotten myself off, I would have been hard in an instant. I spun back around. “Sorry, I’ll give you privacy.”
Jared chuckled, warm and soft. “Since when did we hide things from each other?”
“We don’t shareeverything, do we?” My tone was defensive and I knew it.
He sounded a little hurt when he spoke. “Just about.” There was some rustling and Jared was silent for a moment before speaking again. “Okay, you’re safe. I’m dressed.”
I faced him again, relieved that he was, in fact, wearing a shirt. “Get ready. We have to get going.”
“Coffee?”
I shook my head. “Sure, but we need to leave soon if we’re to get to Mamma’s house before lunch. Steve and Brock will be waiting.”
Jared groaned, a sound that was meant to convey his disappointment but instead sent a bolt of heat to my gut. “Fine, no coffee. But you owe me.”
“Yes, dear,” I said, trying to force a light tone. “Now let’s get moving.”
The trip to Kristiansand was nearly a four-hour drive, and anxiety over how we’d manage being in a car together for that long, sexual tension simmering between us, was eating at me, making my chest tighten and my stomach churn. Eventually we’d packed overnight bags and tossed them in the back of the car before I slid into the driver’s seat and we hit the road, Jared holding the camera we’d been given to record the drive.
As we settled back into each other’s presence, enjoying just being near each other with nobody else around, we talked aimlessly for a while, debating over what music to listen to and what were the best trip snacks. I let Jared win out on the music, mostly because I didn’t think he’d enjoy listening to songs in Norwegian, but I held firm that kvikk lunsj—crunchy wafers covered in chocolate—were definitely better than potato chips, unless the chips were paprika flavored. Even then, it was a close race.
About an hour from our destination, Jared turned the camera off and shifted in his seat to face me. “So.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Yes?”
“Who will I be meeting, besides Mamma Solberg?”
“Kasper and Ingrid. That’s all.”
“Right, Kasper, the big brother who hates me even though we’ve never met, and his lovely wife Ingrid.”
I hummed and nodded. “That’s correct.”
“How can I win over your mom? I want her to like me.”
I reached over and patted his hand. “Don’t tell her we’re in a fake relationship, for one.” I chuckled and shook my head. “Seriously, I’m sure she’ll love you. But if youreallywant to impress her… offer to help her in the kitchen. Compliment her cooking. Try everything on your plate, even if you don’t want to. Mamma won’t make anything too outlandish, but it’s worth saying. You should give everything a chance.”
He nodded, brow furrowed as if he were making mental notes, clearly taking my instructions seriously. “How about Kasper and Ingrid?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “I’m not sure there’s any hope for them. Kasper hates everyone, and Ingrid, well, she follows Kasper’s lead.”
“Well, I’ve been known to thaw even the coldest icebergs.” He grinned, a mixture of cocky and reminiscent. “Remember that time we got lost on the bus and ended up, like, an hour from home before we realized it? And I charmed the bus driver into giving us free fare back home?”
I rolled my eyes. “I was thinking more of the time we tried to make krumkaker for the class and used salt instead of sugar, and we still managed to pass the assignment thanks to your fast talking.”
