Page 97 of Maybe We Can Fake It

That only seems to encourage him to continue on with the perfect torture. He’s kneading my inner thighs with his hands and using his mouth to suck and bite and lick at the sensitive skin. The rough scrape of his facial hair there is almost enough to send me over the edge. But it’s not quite enough, and he’s ignoring my cock, even though it’s leaking shamelessly now.

“I thought you weren’t going to tease,” I whine, fisting the sheets to resist grabbing his hair and forcing his mouth where I want it the most.

He glances up at me with a dangerous smile. “I didn’t say that. I just said I wasn’t aware I was doing it before.”

The noise I make is something between a frustrated growl and a pitiful whine. But I don’t care if that was embarrassing, because he sits up to get the lube bottle out of my bedside drawer, then returns to his spot between my legs. A spot I wish he’d never leave.

I brace myself up on my forearms to watch as he rubs some lube between his fingers, warming it. And then, with his eyes locked on mine, he reaches down, rubbing two fingers around my hole before he slowly slides them both inside. I gasp, but my body welcomes the intrusion.

He fingers my ass like he’s on a mission, alternating between shallow strokes and going deeper. Then he gently scissors his fingers to spread me open, and I wait eagerly for him to add a third finger. But he gives me a wink and lowers his head to lick at my rim instead, while his fingers continue to drive me wild.

As soon as he curls them and taps on my prostate, I almost shoot off the mattress. Unable to control myself, I begin thrusting down on him, riding his fingers, silently demanding more. My head falls back onto the pillow as my arms give out,and I reach down to wrap my hand around my cock, but he grips my wrist, stopping me. That’s when I start pleading.

“Oh god, oh fuck, please, please, please. Make me come. I need to, please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Suddenly, his fingers slide all the way out of my ass.

I sit up quickly, ready to fight him. “Nooo.Why did you do that? I was so close!”

“Do you have condoms?” he asks huskily.

And I’m pretty sure my brain short circuits for a second. Is this really happening? Blowjobs and fingering are one thing, but fucking is another. I’ve wanted to fuck Travis probably since our first kiss, if I’m being honest. But I don’t think I ever expected it to be an option. I don’t believe that sex needs to be reserved for love or anything like that, but with Travis—someone I’m already so close to—this feels like crossing a line that might change me forever.

His brow furrows. “Or do you not want to?”

“No!” I shout. Maybe too loudly. “I mean, yes. Yes! I very much want to, yes. Let’s do that. Right now.”

When he smiles at me, it warms my skin like a physical touch. “So, condoms?”

“Bathroom, under the sink.” I haven’t used any in a while, but I always keep a box with a safe expiration date, just in case.

He gets off the bed and goes to get them, and I use the few seconds to try to calm my racing heart. I want this so badly. Badly enough that I’m willing to leave behind any sense of self-preservation and risk the future heartache when we go back to being just friends.

When he steps out of the bathroom holding a condom, I spread my legs in anticipation. Climbing on top of me, he runs a hand up my ribs. It feels possessive. So does the look he gives me while he’s rolling the condom over his hard cock.

It’s possessive the way he pushes at the backs of my thighs to get me to pull my legs up. Like he owns me, when he hasn’t even been properly inside me yet.

I hook my arms around my knees, leaving my hole on full, slutty display for him. Begging him with my eyes to take me, own me.

It’s hard to remember what I told myself in the truck—that I can’t fall for him, that he doesn’t date. Because in this moment, it feels like I’m entirely his. And when his cock pushes inside me, inch by inch until he’s filling me completely, filling me in ways I didn’t even know I needed to be filled, it feels like I’vealwaysbeen his.

He kisses me, pressing my legs back even farther, then turns his head to breathe roughly in my ear. “You feel so good. Perfect. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

I moan back at him, words failing me. And apparently our roles have reversed, because for once, he’s the one who doesn’t stop talking. He keeps telling me how good I feel, keeps praising me, though I’m not even doing much besides taking his thrusts.

When I wrap my legs around him and scratch my nails down his back, he groans and slams his mouth over mine.

Possession.This is possession. The way he’s taking me, the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s claiming my lips, then only releasing them so he can duck his head down and claim my neck as well.

In between sucking and biting at me, he mumbles, “Wanted you for so long.”

I’m struck dumb by the words, by the bruising pressure of his mouth, by everything. I try to process what he said, because there’s no way that can be true. But my brain is pretty useless right now. The only things running through it arewant, need, yes, more.

“Come on baby,” he says, eyes on me again. “Are you gonna come with me?”

I can’t look away from him. I can’t do much except nod and breathe heavily. He changes his angle and starts nailing my prostate on every thrust, sending stars shooting up my spine. I could probably come just like this, but I’m certainly not complaining when he reaches between us and grips my cock, stroking at a fast pace that matches the new pace of his hips.

“Oh god!” I cry out. A wave of pleasure washes over me, my cock swells in his fist, and then I’m coming hard, making a mess between us.

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