Page 49 of Faking with Three

“You’re driving me insane.”

Her laughter is low and soft, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Good.”

She takes her time, her movements deliberate, her touch sending me spiraling. She leans back slightly, her hands braced on my shoulders as she rocks against me, and I can’t take my eyes off her. The way she moves, the way her head tilts back with a soft moan, the way she feels—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

My hands slide up her sides, brushing against her ribs before settling on her waist again. Her skin is soft and warm, and I can feel the rapid beat of her pulse under my fingertips. She leans forward, her lips finding mine again, and it’s a clash of need and urgency that leaves us both breathless.

When her hands move to the button of my jeans, I help her, desperate to close the gap between us. She tugs them down, her eyes darkening as she takes me in.

“Liv…” I manage again, my voice barely a whisper.

“Shh,” she murmurs, pressing a finger to my lips. “Let me.”

I take a moment, letting my hands slide over her waist, appreciating the curves I’ve been trying not to obsess over for weeks. Her hair falls around us like a curtain as she leans in, brushing her lips over my neck, my collarbone, leaving a trail of heat that makes my breath hitch.

“Tell me you’re not going to regret this,” I say against her skin, barely able to hold on to the last shred of control.

Her hand cups my cheek, forcing me to meet her gaze. “I won’t,” she says firmly.

My head falls back against the couch as she takes control, a teasing rhythm at first, grinding against me until I can’t think straight. I reach down and

Her top is the next casualty, followed by her bra, and I lose myself in the sight of her—the way her skin glows under the dim light, freckles scattering across her chest like constellations. My hands cup her breasts, my thumbs grazing her nipples, and her sharp intake of breath makes my pulse quicken.

She reaches between us and frees my cock. It practically pulsates in her hand as she runs her fingers over its length.

“Ethan,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost hesitant, and it tugs at something deep inside me.

“I’ve got you,” I tell her, my hands sliding down her sides. The reassurance isn’t just for her; it’s for me too. This—her—feels too important to rush.

She smiles, her confidence growing as she takes the lead. She moves purposefully, positioning herself over me and pressing her knees into the cushions on either side.

She settles herself slowly, her body adjusting to mine, and I let out a low groan.

Her hands rest lightly on my shoulders, nails digging in slightly as she begins to move. It’s slow at first, her body finding its rhythm.

“Olivia,” I whisper, her name falling from my lips like a prayer.

Her eyes meet mine, green and full of mischief and desire, and she gives me a small, knowing smile. “Like this?” she teases, her movements growing bolder.

“Just like that,” I manage, my voice low and gravelly.

Her fingers trail down my chest, nails scratching lightly as she leans forward, her lips brushing against mine. The kiss isdeep and consuming, her breath mingling with mine as she takes control. The couch creaks beneath us, but the sound barely registers in my mind.

My hands wander, sliding up her thighs, her waist, her back, until I’m cradling her, holding her close as she moves.

I can feel her body trembling slightly, and I move my hands up to her waist, guiding her with just enough pressure. When I see her eyes roll into the back of her head, I know I’m doing it right.

Her head tilts back, and a soft moan escapes her lips, sending a wave of heat through me.

“You’re amazing,” I murmur, pressing my lips to the curve of her neck, my hands exploring the soft planes of her back.

Her breath hitches, and she leans into me, her movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. I grip her hips tighter, my fingers pressing into her soft skin as I match her movements. She throws her head back, her hair cascading down her back as she touches herself. Her tits swing in front of my face as she continues to ride me.

Her head tilts back, exposing her throat, and I take the opportunity to press my lips to her skin, tasting the salt and warmth of her. Her breath hitches, and I know she’s close.

Her nails dig into my shoulders, and her movements grow erratic, less controlled, as the tension builds between us. I grip her waist tighter, guiding her, meeting her halfway as we both teeter on the edge.

“Oh, Ethan, I’m coming, I’m coming,” she breathes, her voice trembling, and that’s all it takes for me to lose myself. She shudders above me, her entire body tightening as she cries out, her climax washing over her in waves. The sight of her—completely undone, lost in the moment—is enough to push me over the edge.

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