Page 68 of His Fake Fiancé

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a quick, quiet breath. But she didn’t move away, didn’t break eye contact. She licked her lips again, and his cock jumped. “Yes, Jake. I want you to fuck me.”

He captured her lips, letting loose the desperation and lust pounding through his veins. She opened her mouth, probably to gasp at his swiftness, at his desperation, and he took full advantage. Sweeping his tongue into her mouth, brushing against hers.

This wasn’t a soft or gentle kiss, even though it probably should be. It was rough and dirty, all lips and tongues and teeth.

She tasted sweet, just like he remembered. He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her into his lap. She straddled his hips, slid her arms around his neck, leaned into him. Her pressed against him felt so fucking good. She kissed him back, just as desperate, her tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, spar for spar.

He slipped his hands from her waist down aver her hips, kneading and squeezing her softness. She squirmed in his lap, making his cock throb behind his fly. He skimmed his fingers down along her thighs, slipping them under her dress, which had been bunched up by her position. Her skin was so soft and smooth against his fingertips. He slid them along her thighs and then around to her ass, grabbing and pressing her harder against him.

She moaned, the sound deep in her throat, and rocked herself against his cock. It was like lighting fire to his veins. He dug his fingers into her flesh, ground his cock against her hot, wet center. His cock was like a steel pipe in his pants.

She pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, tipping her head back as her hips worked against his. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the long column of her throat. Her skin was salty and sweet. Addictive. He swiped his tongue against it, kissing and sucking and nibbling on her skin.

He used his grip on her hips to shift her slightly, change the angle of friction. She moaned again, another deep and dirty sound that arrowed straight to his dick. He rolled his hips, making sure his cock hit her at just the perfect angle.

She gasped his name and he almost fucking came in his pants. It was the hottest thing he’d heard in forever. The muscles in her ass and thighs tensed and released with every roll of her hips. Her nipples were hard, pressing against her bra and the stretchy fabric of her dress. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her cardigan, but there were still too many layers of cloth between them.

“Are you going to come, angel?” He kept his voice low, didn’t have to work hard to keep the gravel in it.

She lifted her head and nodded, grinding her hips harder against him. Her eyes were heavy lidded and lust filled, her pupils blown wide. She clamped the side of her lip between her teeth, and closed her eyes, concentration written all over her face.

His cock throbbed, aching to be inside her. He’d thought she was beautiful before—and she was—but it was nothing compared to now. Now, she was gorgeous in her abandon, with her flushed cheeks and the dotting of sweat along her hairline. Chasing her pleasure with wild abandon.

She made that mewling noise again in the back of her throat, the one that made his entire body quiver, and jerked her hips against him in small, tight movements. Concentrated movements. And then she pressed against him, hard and held there. Her entire body tensed, her muscles clenched. Her knees pressed hard against his hips, almost like her body was trying to close her legs, get away from the sensation. She threw back her head again with a gasp, a low almost keening cry ripped from her.

And then her entire body quivered. He dugs his fingers into her flesh, holding her against him as he rocked his hips in a slow, gentle rhythm. Each press against her made her shake and groan with an aftershock, the sound rumbling up from deep inside her. He couldn’t get enough of watching her come.

After the fourth time, while she was still shivering, she sagged forward, resting her head on his shoulder.

“No more,” she said, although it came out as more of a gasp.

He relaxed his hips and sank back into the sofa. She nuzzled her face into his neck with a contented hum. Something he didn’t understand shifted in his chest. He pulled his hands out from under her skirt and wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled against him as he swept his hand up and down her spine.

Even though he was so hard it physically hurt, the contentment that washed through him made him sigh. He’d never felt like this after sex. He didn’t understand what it meant or why, but he wasn’t about to try and dissect it now. Besides, it probably had to do with the rollercoaster of a day and the release of endorphins or adrenaline, or whatever.

The fact he hadn’t come yet had nothing to do with anything. Besides, getting to watch Claire orgasm was so fucking beautiful.

“Thank you,” he said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“For what?” Her words were muffled against his neck. Her breath sliding against his skin sent a cascade of goosebumps across his shoulders. He held back the shiver that threatened to break free.

“For letting me watch you come.” His voice was rough. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, for some reason, unable to stop touching her.

The tip of her ear turned pink, which he guessed had nothing to do with her orgasm, and more to do with embarrassment. It was the cutest fucking thing ever.

She pushed away from him, sitting up so she could look at him. Immediately, he missed her warmth, the press of her against him. He wanted to pull her back to him, where she belonged.

His spine tightened at that thought. He had no fucking clue where it had come from. And he had no idea what to do with it, what to make of it.

Claire shifted her hips, rubbing against his cock, and all of his thoughts scattered. He slid his hands over her hips, up to her waist. He loved the feel of her in his hands. The smooth, silky fabric of her dress. The soft, subtle curves underneath. He slipped his hands around and grabbed her ass, giving a squeeze for good measure. She made a purring sound in the back of her throat, the kind that sent the blood fizzing through his veins, straight to his dick.

He pushed to his feet, keeping her firmly in his grasp. There was no way he was letting her go, even long enough for them to get to the bedroom. She squealed and wrapped her arms and legs around him, burying her face against his neck again. He chuckled at her reaction, even though it felt rusty and ragged.

Her lips pressed against his neck, and then she licked along the length. His laugh turned into a groan. His skin felt sensitized, tingly and buzzy. He couldn’t wait to press all of it against every last inch of her.

Thankfully, the guest house was small and it was only a few steps to the bedroom. He shouldered the door open. The room still smelled like Claire, her perfume and her lotions and stuff. After she’d left last week, he hadn’t done anything with the room. Had kept it just like she’d left it. He should have at least slept in the bed, but it just hadn’t felt right, so he’d suffered on the pullout all week.

Now, it felt more than right to be in here, with Claire wrapped around him.