Page 84 of Marry Me, Right Now

“I will always love watching you come, but I love the way you come all over my cock.”

Her eyelids were heavy with raw lust as she looked down at me, nodding. “Mmm... my favorite thing in the world.”

Hearing her say that drove me completely wild. Seeing how much she seemed to want me thrilled me deeper than I could even understand. Steadily moving my thumb a little faster, her deep rocking motion gained speed as well. She was so sexy as she closed her eyes, totally lost in the moment.

“Oh, oh wow…” she whispered, and I saw her shoulders begin to twitch as she looked down at me.

“Come for me, baby,” I growled, locking onto her eyes as she gasped, her climax seeming to wash over her in waves. I could feel her tight passage convulsing, massaging my shaft deeply, triggering my own release. She leaned forward, crushing her lips to mine as we came hard, twitching and gushing and kissing so deeply I couldn’t imagine ever stopping.

But finally she pulled back a little, taking a breath. Then she smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Best present ever,” she grinned, climbing off me and curling up by my side.

We slept in each other’s arms, waking up a few times to kiss gently before falling back asleep. I couldn’t help thinking that we were perfect together. I needed to talk to her about this, about us. Since I was the one who came up with this bizarre idea of a fake marriage, I should be able to discuss changing the rules.

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A week of working at my new agency, having dinner with Jacob, and frequent after-work cocktails with his friends and mine was a swirl of busy clutter in my mind.

We had been growing steadily closer, especially after the best birthday presents ever. But now every time I looked over at the massive printer against the wall of my office, I thought of that incredible night with Jacob, and had to stifle a giggle.

&nbs

p; Longing for a man was a completely unfamiliar feeling. I’d been fond of a few guys, but I’d never felt my body relax when they walked in the door. I’d never daydreamed about what to make them for dinner to make them happy, or make a note because I heard about a movie I’m sure they’d love.

It was too soon to really think about love. But that was lying to myself. I was past infatuated, and my secret love for him was becoming less of a secret. Yet there was no way I was going to ask the question first. I was terrified he wasn’t as into this fake relationship becoming real as I was.

For all I knew, he was playing the part so well his body was falling for it. A real relationship wasn’t impossible, but it might be highly unlikely. I’d try to make the most of it until I had more of a clue.

I heard a strange sound coming up the stairs, and realized it was the click of high heels. All of my clients wore scruffy sneakers and boots, so it was an unfamiliar noise. I had been wearing low heeled short boots and simple dresses, hoping to create a new look that was a blend of my old and new life. I found that treating these sometimes unfocused artists with extreme professionalism caused them to shift their thinking, and treat their art in a more businesslike manner. It forced them to be more detail-oriented and focused.

I nearly lost my own focus when I heard a tiny knock, then Rosalind walked in.

“Mia, darling!” she exclaimed, and I jumped from my chair to rush to the door.

“Rosalind, this is certainly a surprise.”

I tried not to let my jaw drop open when I saw that she was actually wearing a full-length fur coat over her bright teal dress. It was a little chilly today, but not to a level that warranted openly displaying dead animals.

She gave me a swift hug, then stared at my small one-room office. “Jacob told me that you’d started a little promotion business, so of course I had to drop in and see how you were doing.”

“Thank you, it’s lovely to see you. Would you like some coffee? Tea?”

“Thank you, dear, but I can’t stay long. I have an appointment uptown and a car is waiting.”

She came over to the wall covered in four mismatched white-boards. “Did the store run out of one kind?”

“No, they were brought in by my artists, from their apartments, basements, wherever.” I obviously couldn’t say that three of them were found beside a dumpster in a back alley.

“But surely you can afford new ones, dear.”

“That’s not the point. The artists are all helping with the office to build community. What they can’t pay in money, they pay in time and effort. Donating their own furniture, helping other artists. It’s becoming a collective,” I said proudly.

I could see her jaw clench slightly, then relax as she forced a smile. “And what are all of these?” She waved to a list of names and symbols.

“Each person is marked with what they can contribute. Some can volunteer as servers at gallery openings, some can work the door at music events, some can write press releases or design websites. Some can take photos for social media. Everyone can ask each other for help, and everyone contributes a similar amount. That’s how they earn points, and that’s redeemed in merchandise services through me. Printing costs, t-shirts, posters, buttons.”

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