Page 16 of Fake Maid

“Eli!” Her thighs snap closed around my head, clamping me in place—as if I’d ever try to escape. As if there is any goddamn place on the planet I’d rather be.

“So fucking good,” I tell her, the words vibrating through her slick folds. “So fucking delicious, baby.”

She moans, her hips rocking against my tongue, and I growl in approval as she pushes me harder against her core. This is us—what I sensed instinctively in my office. We’re both rough with each other, desperate and wild in our need to get closer, closer, closer.

I love it as much as she did.

I want to fucking drown in this girl.

When I slide my middle finger inside her, she clamps down, her muscles rippling against me. The thought of that on my cock makes me groan, and I pump deeper, crooking my finger and rubbing against that secret spot.

Her thighs lock beside my ears, muscles shuddering, and the sound she makes.

It’s part groan. Part sigh. And she says my name like a prayer.

I keep licking her through her orgasm, keep pumping my finger into the tight clasp of her pussy. I don’t stop until she slumps on the pool lounger, her thighs falling away from my ears. And when I sit back on my heels, chest heaving and chin slick and shining with the evidence, I don’t wipe it off. I’m not ready to have her gone from my skin.

“Come here,” she murmurs, tugging me forward by my shirt. She wipes my face with the hem of her tunic, her hands gentle against my jaw. The rough scrape of her cast on one side, and her warm skin on the other—I close my eyes and draw in a shuddering breath.

“It’s my turn to apologize.”

I blink my eyes open. Coral’s smile is rueful.

“What for?”

She shrugs, feigning casualness. “For grabbing you like that. Rubbing—rubbing myself on you.” Her cheeks flush darker. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” I grit out. “Don’t say that. I fucking loved it, baby. I want you to use me like that every day for the rest of our lives.”

A light dies behind her eyes at my words. And I know it’s intense, wanting her so badly after just one day, but surely I can’t be alone in this? At every moment, we’ve been matched in passion. Equally desperate for each other, orbiting each other like planets, and fuck, how have I misread this again?

“Coral…” She slumps further, and dread slides through my stomach. “Tell me you feel the same way.”

“I’m sorry.”

My breath saws in and out of my lungs. Her hands drop away from my shirt.

“It was…” She pauses. Steels herself. Then caves in my chest with only a few words. “It was just a bit of fun.”

My ears ring as I sit back. As I push to my feet, staring down at her on the lounger like I’ve never seen her before.

A bit of fun.

“Fine,” I rasp. Harsh words line up on my tongue, but I choke them back. “Alright.” My sneakers echo on the tile as I move back a few steps. “I’ll… Goodbye, Coral.”

I stride out of the pool house before I can say anything else. Before I say something I regret, or push her too hard. It’s her decision, and I’ll respect it, but fuck—my heart throbs so hard I miss a breath.

I misread the situation. We want different things.

That’s fine.

That’s normal.

I’ve never even cared before.

So why do I feel like a part of me just died?

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