Page 61 of The Fake Date Agreement

She hesitates, and I wonder what that jackass of a boyfriend ever did for her.

“One taste,Gatinha,” I whisper, tempting her.

“W-what does that mean?” she whispers back.

“What you are. Beautiful. Little kitten.”

Her blush deepens. “I’m not either of those things.”

“I disagree.” And I wait.

Her nod, when it comes, is tiny, her cheeks red, embarrassed.

That’s all the permission I need.

I keep my eyes on her face, needing to see her expression as I lick and suck her through the thin lacy bra.

“Javier,” she moans.

I shuffle forward, stroke my hands up her rounded thighs, drawing her softer body against my harder one, wanting to put her on the floor and see what other parts of her taste as sweet asthese perfect tits. But this is for her. For her to know how easily she can bring a man to his knees. She doesn’t need makeup or a short dress.

Just her. That’s enough.

Her hands tug on my hair as I lift my mouth from wet lace, smiling at her soft sound of complaint before I move on to the neglected breast.

She’s writhing on the seat, and I feel her sex against my chest. It’s hot. Is she going to come from my mouth on her tits?

Her breathing is growing ragged as I cup and massage an ass I need to see out of this thong, preferably when she’s sitting on me, riding me, from the back, the front…

Fuck, I just need her on me.

Her thighs are spreading and I’m picking her up, ready to put her on this floor, shove aside the thong when…

Knock. Knock.

“Is everything okay in there?”

Tobie nearly falls as she scrambles to get up, wobbling.

I catch her as I rise to my feet, gripping her hips and steadying her.

She doesn’t look at me. She’s pointing her red face at the wall. Every inch of her skin is a warm rose.

This close, there’s no way she can’t feel how badly I need her. And this close, I can’t help but feel how perfectly her body fits against me.

“We’ll take everything she tried on. Everything except what she’s wearing now,” I call out.

There’s a surprised silence. “I can bag everything up.”

Reaching around Tobie, I pluck the hangers from a small hook. She freezes when I open the door and pass the sales assistant the lingerie that Tobie tried on, including the empty hangers of the lingerie she’s still wearing.

Even after the sales assistant has left, Tobie still won’t look at me.

I grip her chin and lift it. “How did it feel, Tobie?”

“How did what feel?”

“What you do to me?”

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