Page 23 of Miss Taken Identity

Tasting her lips, mixed with a little bit of soap and most likely a little bit of her latest spray job courtesy of my dick, I feel like the only thing I need to tell her is the one thing I’ve never told anyone.

“What is it?” she asks, pouting a little. Her cheeks flushed with the warm steam and the residual heat of the moment.

“Nothing,” I smile, pecking her lips, vowing to tell her another time, but soon.

“Shall we choose your outfit and get ready for dinner?” I ask, hungrier than ever myself now.

And I want to see Chloe eat too, knowing she’s gonna need all her strength with what I have planned for us both after dinner.

Our little entrée just now might tide me over some. But now I’ve had a taste of what it feels like, how fucking perfect she is when it comes to driving stick.

I know it won’t be long before my need is more difficult to suppress than the inches in my pants.

We soak a little longer, but I feel Chloe already has an outfit in mind once she makes me promise not to peek as she picks out some things from the boutique bags before sliding a dress off the rack I’ve brought inside.

Creasing my mouth in mock disappointment, she promises me it’ll be worth the wait to see what she’s wearing.

“And I don’t mean the dress,” she teases me, looking over her shoulder on the way to the bedroom.

“I mean what’s underneath.”

I stand in the bathroom doorway, still naked and dripping wet. Watching her close the door but not all the way.

I’m catching little glimpses of her perfect body as she gets changed. The body, the girl…

The soon-to-be woman that I know I’ll never go a day without from now on.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chloe

It’s almost scary how much I crave Xander already.

And I mean all of him.

I’ve never even…Well. You get the picture.

Until today I’d never even kissed a boy or had anyone do anything to me, but five seconds in the tub with him, and I’m craving his manhood like nothing else.

His cock.

Only him from now on.

When the perfect man comes along, there’s no need to even think about another, and I can now see why I spent all those agonizing years wondering why nobody liked me.

It’s because I was waiting for him.

By the time I find the lingerie I have in mind, I’m already so wet again that it feels a shame to put it on before I get dressed.

But something tells me Xander won’t mind.

He tells me I make him do and say things. I affect him in ways he never thought possible.

But there’s something that he’s brought out in me too.

And it’s a wild, animal instinct. A feral lust that makes me wanna be on all fours and have him pound me from behind until I beg him to stop.

But no matter how hard or fast he rams me, I don’t want him to stop until he’s fully satisfied.

Until he’s filled me with his seed and put a baby in my belly…

That thought should be out of the ordinary. It should frighten me even.

Jesus, if my parents knew what I was thinking right now, let alone what I was planning on doing after dinner, I can imagine what they might say.

They were more than a little upset over the phone, that’s for sure.

But they’re not here, and the longer I spend away from home and the life I feel like I’ve truly left behind, the less I feel like worrying about it or anything else, for that matter. My future is here, with Xander.

The main bedroom in the suite has an ornate dressing table, like something out of an old movie, where I can sit on a plush little stool and brush my hair.

There’s a full set of complimentary brushes and make-up. Even a hair dryer that makes the airline swag seem a little stingy by comparison.

Make-up’s never been my thing, but I want to look my best for Xander.

I mean, how hard can it be?

His voice low and deep on the phone in the next room tells me he’s not in a hurry.

It’s practically his hotel, and I’m figuring dinner will be served whenever he says so.

Okay… A little foundation… I think that’s what it’s called… A little lipstick…

I make a few little mistakes. It’s gonna happen, I guess, and I figure it’s just a matter of wiping a little here, adding a little more there.

The next sound I hear is my own shrieks of horror once I realize what a mess I’ve made of everything.

I look like a clown, and in seconds my eyes are red with tears, the make-up running down my face as I rush to lock the door before Xander charges in.

But it’s too late.

He grabs ahold of my elbows, his eyes wide with concern, demanding that I tell him what’s wrong before his own face shifts.

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