“Are we really married?”
“We can get it annulled easily enough. I assume it wasn’t your signature on the license?”
She shakes her head back and forth. “It’s mine. They made me do it. This is all so unbelievable. It’s like I stepped into the middle ages.”
We both stop talking, eyes wide, when someone coughs nearby. The walls are so thin the person sounds as if they’re in the room with us.
I touch her arm, my mouth at her ear. “We’ve waited long enough. Make it real, honey.”
“I suck at acting.”
“If I go too far, just let me know.” I throw a lamp on the floor and it crashes. “You bitch!”
“Get the fuck off me!” Her screams echo in the sparsely furnished room.
I grab her arm, tug her hair, and put my mouth over hers as she yells into my mouth. “No! Mmph.”
She groans when I thrust my tongue between her teeth. Suddenly, my cock forgets this is an act and grows painful because she tastes so damn good.
I pull away. “Take your goddamn clothes off.”
“I won’t.”
I rip a sheet. “I’ll just help you.”
When I notice the handcuffs on the bed, I point to them as a question mark and she nods.
I whisper, “Scratch my face.”
“I can’t.”
I take her wrist and with the long nail of her index finger, slice my upper cheek.
“You will pay for that.” I press her against the wall with my body and bang the thin plaster with both my hands.
“Ow.” She begins to cry, pretty damn realistically.
“You really okay?”
She grins. “Keep going. You’re good. Real good.”
“Cuffs?”
“Whatever. Sell it, Jack.”
I’m sorry to report my cock takes a bigger interest in this role play than I want. I would never hurt a woman but pretending to have sex is killing me. I lift her onto the bed, kiss her soundly, and cuff her.
Spread out for me, I can’t help but kiss her again and she kisses me back with enthusiasm. I rattle her wrists as if she was struggling and metal clangs against metal. Then, I jump off the bed, grunt, and push on the mattress, making the headboard bang against the wall.
She screams until chills run down the center of my back. Slowly, and rhythmically, I close my eyes and picture making love to her but it’s tough. I would never take her this way.
She looks down between her knees and jumps up and down until the bed springs creak.
“It doesn’t sound right,” she hisses. “You need to be on the bed.”
Christ all mighty. Making fake love is a lot harder than I thought.
I straddle her and she shouts, “Get the fuck off me, you bastard.”
