Page 72 of Maybe We Can Fake It

I want to ask him what he would know about it, but I need to put an end to this conversation. We’re supposed to be basking in the post-orgasm bliss, not poking at old wounds.

Actually, I’m the only one who’s gotten off. And I should remedy that.

Banishing all the sad thoughts from my brain, I prop myself up on my elbow. “The only thing I can’t accept is the fact that you haven’t covered me in your cum yet.”

That gets me a small laugh. Then Travis studies me, and I do my best to project a happy image. Honestly, I’m a grown ass man, and May wanting to do something with her grandmotherinstead of me for the first time isnotthe end of the world. It’s really not.

Especially not when I’m lying here with Travis in my bed after he made me feel so good that I saw stars. I want to make him feel that good too. Ineedto.

He must read this desire on my face, because he lets me maneuver my way out of the depressing conversation and onto my back. He strips off his boxers, tossing them aside, before crawling on top of me. We kiss, slowly at first, then eventually building back up to a frenzy.

He’s hard again, his cock nudging into the crease between my groin and thigh, smearing precum along its path.

“Do you have lube?” he asks.

I stretch my arm out, and he lifts off me so I can roll onto my side to grab it from the drawer in my nightstand. He takes it from me, then finishes rolling me over until I’m lying on my stomach. I’m confused for a moment, but I let him do his thing, listening to the cap opening and the lube squirting out. I hear him slicking himself up, and then his big, capable hands part my ass cheeks before his hard, wet length slides up between them.

Oh.

Yeah, I can totally get on board with this.

I lie still, letting him take what he needs from my body. After a few moments of this, it starts to send me into a blissful haze. When he slides lower, his cockhead bumping gently behind my balls, a pleased sound escapes me.

His breathing has picked up, and he’s letting out small grunts and moans, rutting against me now. “Cross your legs at the ankles,” he orders.

Andyup, uh-huh, okay. Anything he wants. I do as he says, then crane my neck to watch him as he slicks himself up again before pushing his cock between my thighs. I tighten them around him, making him groan.

“Ngh.Fuck yeah, just like that.”

He keeps fucking my thighs, rubbing along my taint with each thrust. I’m growing hard again, but it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about me. This is all about Travis and the pleasure I can give him.

His rhythm eventually becomes erratic, signaling he’s close. Then he moans, loud enough to make me remember the guests sleeping down the hall. But before I can urge him to be quiet, he releases, leaving a warm mess dripping between my thighs.

He collapses on top of me, draping his chest over my back, his breathing still harsh. I’m pretty sure some of his cum smears into my ass cheek.

It takes him a minute before he rolls off me. This time I think we’re both too spent to clean up properly. He swipes at me half-heartedly with the dirty washcloth and then throws it to the floor. Then he positions us so we’re spooning, him behind me with one strong arm wrapped around my waist.

Sleep threatens to overtake me. But before I succumb, I think about how Travis has already told me I can count on him whenever I need anything. Now he’s reminding me that I have people in this town who care about me. And with the way he’s holding me tightly against him... I don’t think he’s talking about Mitch or Mrs. Morris or Sal the mailman.

I can’t read too much into this though. We can mix friendship and sex, but that doesn’t mean we could ever have anything more. What I want from him is becoming increasingly confusing, but I know that he doesn’t want more than this.

So I can’t let myself want it either.

It’s like that sad song Elphaba sings inWicked. You shouldn’t wish for something that’s out of your reach, because that way, you can’t be disappointed when you don’t get it.

I mean, sure, she also sings about defying gravity, but I’m not about to try flying, okay? I need to keep my feet on the ground and my head in reality.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TRAVIS

Thisisthefirstmorning I’ve woken up with Brenden in the same positions we went to sleep in. It’s also the first time we went to sleep cuddling. Last night, after I came my brains out between his thighs, holding him simply felt like the right thing to do. I’d been too sated and exhausted to wonder if it was weird.

Now, in the light of morning, one of my arms is sore from the way it’s been awkwardly wedged between us all night, while my other arm is comfortably wrapped around his waist. It still feels right to have his warm body pressed tightly to mine, but everything is also confusing.

Because I know it’snotright. He’s not mine to hold. Not really.

Maybe he is for now, but it’s only temporary. Only for fun. Once our charade is over, this will be over between us too. I have to be ready to handle that and move on.

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