Page 51 of The Holiday Fakers
It’s a letter salad and makes absolutely no sense, but it’s too adorable for words, and I’m utterly captivated.
“Juh bruh, mahbrum—VISION!”
I nearly leap off the bed, but then she lapses back into mumbles and my shoulders shake with laughter.
She’s moving about again now, and I wonder what’s coming next. For someone who claims to sleep like the dead, it looks like she’s dancing under the covers.
Then her arms flail free, and she grabs a pillow from the pillow wall, hugging it to her. She lets out another loud sigh, then falls quiet, sprawled in the middle of the bed.
I gaze at the sheepskin on the floor, wondering if I should sleep on it, then decide there’s enough room here.
If I lie on my side at the very edge of the bed, and Piper’s happy cuddling the pillow, we should be okay.
Getting up quietly, I close the drapes, blow out the candles, then carefully slip under the covers. I know I should turn away from Piper, but I can’t resist facing her, watching her face in the half-light as she sleeps.
“Buh shh muh,” she mutters.
“You too,” I reply, then gaze at her until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer and allow myself to drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER 10
PIPER
“My lady … I’m gonna fucketh you. Long and hard, till you screameth my name like a good wench.”
Brody’s topless above me, only wearing his thirst-tastic gray sweatpants, bracing his weight through his corded forearms as he murmurs Shakespeare into my ear.
Who knew English could be this hot?
We’re lying in front of a log fire, my back cushioned by a bearskin rug with such a thick, soft texture it’s like I’m floating. My pajamas are still on, which is annoying, and I twist beneath him to get more contact. I want him to rip them off with his teeth.
He chuckles. “You wanteth this?”
Then he grinds his perfect cock against my needy pussy, and I gasp.
“Verrily, sirrah! Right thereth!”
My orgasm is already so close, it’s hovering at the edges of my skin, just waiting for the final spark to make me burst into flames.
I grab at my pajamas, but they’re stuck in place. I need them off. Now. Or I’m going to lose my mind.
The fabric is hot under my fingers. And hard. Like warm skin stretched tight over muscle.
Now I can’t move my arm anymore. Something’s gripping my wrist like a vise.
My mind tumbles, falling through space and time as it struggles to work out where I am while still clinging to the dream as it rushes away from me.
Then I wake with a start, crashing into a reality so mortifying I want to die.
Right noweth.
I’m lying half on top of Brody. His T-shirt is pushed all the way up to his neck, and he’s holding my wrist to keep my hand from grabbing his …
“Oh, my fucking god!” I cry and leap off him so fast I fly off the other side of the bed and land with a loud thump on the floor.
A head appears. “You okay?”
“I am so sorry. Shit, Brody, I attacked you. I assaulted you. I defiled you!”
