Page 90 of Faking Ties

“Don’t just look.” I push my chest out and he nips and sucks my nipples. I can’t help but clench around him.

“Do that again,” he says, nuzzling my breasts.

“Make me.”

His gaze snaps to mine and he smirks. “Your wish, my command.” Hunter showers my breasts with aseries of bites and nips that blur the lines of pain and pleasure when I clench around him so many times, it’s like my pussy is getting her own Kegel workout.

Without warning, an orgasm barrels into me, and I gush around his dick. The next time he pulls out, he glances down at where we’re joined, and my release covering him. His pace stutters before he pounds into me, all control disappearing between one breath and the next.

“You’re going to come all over my cock again,” he demands, rubbing my clit with his thumb. Almost aggressively, he works my body as if he’s its master. My body responds in full. Every place he touches or sucks or licks ignites my fuse.

“I’m close,” I moan. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I chant, squeezing my eyes shut.

“God?” He grabs my leg and brings it to his shoulder, changing the angle and going impossibly deeper. “I’m your god now.”

His words catapult me toward the finish line. My body tightens as fireworks explode within my body, all my nerves participating in the orgasm.

It’s overwhelming.

It’s sensory overload.

It’s fucking fantastic.

“Holy shit,” he whispers once we come down from our highs. “I finally understand why you like baking.”

I giggle. “That only happens with you.”

“I think you’re going to need to open a bakery and bake every day if that’s the outcome.”

“Sure,” I joke. “And we’ll fuck so many times I won’t be able to actually get anything done.”

“Sounds like a dream to me.”

Yeah, it kind of does.

ELODIE

Ilove my lavender romper, the whisper-thin, sheer fabric overlaying it cascades to the floor in a flurry of ruffles at the asymmetric hem. It’s revealing but not. Whimsical and comfortable and perfect for today when I have to face down Jax for the last time in Shanghai. It’s been two weeks since the Miami concert, since Hunter told me he loved me. I’ve never felt more connected to someone as I do to him.

And I’m relieved he’s here with me today. I’m so nervous to see Jax, especially after his threat. Stella’s been reassuring me that everything will be okay and that she took care of Jax, whatever that means. I haven’t pushed too hard for information, partly because she’s hinted that whatever Jax has on her is big. I want her to tell me on her own, because she trusts me, and not because I force it out of her. But now shewants to be in my ear, feeding me lines and information from her penthouse in New York City.

It’s the first time I have to take part in an interview panel. Before, it was just small, red-carpet interviews since Stella wasn’t an actor in the movie. Apparently, Stella and Rachel couldn’t get me out of this one. The fact that Stella’s able to talk to me and hear everything should be a relief, but all it does is ratchet up my anxiety to new heights.

“You ready?” Hunter asks. We’re only here for a few hours before he has to fly back for his game tomorrow.

“Yeah…” I grip the oh-shit bar as the car screeches to a halt, avoiding a motorbike. Everywhere, horns blare in a symphony of impatience. Motorbikes weave between lanes like rogue bees, and taxis swerve in and out of traffic with impatience.

“You’ll be fine,” Stella says in my earpiece. “This time, you’ll pose for a few photos on the red carpet before heading inside for the interview panel.”

I nod and relay the information to Hunter. Hunter’s hand on my leg is the only thing keeping me together right now. Jax and the chaotic traffic aren’t helping my anxiety. But everything is better with Hunter by my side. Since Miami, I’ve spent all my spare time visiting him and Minnie. Even if it’s only for a night or a few stolen hours here and there, it’s better than waiting weeks in between our meetings.

“We’re almost there,” Brian says from the front.

I glance out the window, at the Art Deco buildings standing shoulder-to-shoulder with storefronts painted in vibrant hues. Neon signs in Chinese characters flicker above restaurants and street vendors, their carts overflowing with colorful fruits and skewered meats, adding a certain charm to the streets.

When we finally pull up in front of the cinema, a sleek modern building with a pulsating red-carpet entrance, Hunter grips my hand in his.

“Remember our code,” he murmurs.

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