Page 19 of Fake Dating the Next-Door
"So beautiful," he whispers, pressing kisses along my inner thighs.
His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, and suddenly I'm seized with panic. Not because I don't want this—I do, desperately—but because I'm terrified of disappointing him.
"Garrett, wait," I gasp. "I should tell you... I'm a virgin."
He stills, looking up at me with those intense blue eyes. There's no judgment there, no disappointment, just a fierce desire that makes me shiver.
"That's fine," he says, his voice rough with desire. "I'll just make sure I'm your first and your last."
He eases my panties down my legs, his gaze never leaving mine. I should feel exposed and vulnerable, but all I feel is wanted.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, feeling the dampness between my thighs. "I'm already so..."
"Wet?" He smirks for the first time. "That's good. It means you're ready for me." His hand strokes up my thigh. "Because I'm definitely ready for you."
His briefs join the pile of discarded clothing, and I can't help the small gasp that escapes me. Garrett is magnificent. His cock is thick and long. I've never seen a naked man in person before, and the reality is both intimidating and thrilling.
"We'll take it slow," he promises, returning to me on the couch. "I want this to be good for you."
"It already is," I admit, reaching for him.
As his body covers mine again, skin against skin, I know this isn't just about satisfaction or release; it's about connection, about finding something I didn't even know I was looking for.
In Garrett's arms, I'm not the quirky neighbor or the disappointing daughter or the struggling freelancer. I'm just Sunny, wanted and valued exactly as I am.
And as his hands and mouth begin to explore me, I surrender to the sensation, to the man, to the moment, to whatever tomorrow might bring.
Chapter 8 - Garret
A virgin. Sunny is a virgin.
This woman… This bright, beautiful woman, is trusting me with something precious. Something I didn't expect and don't deserve, but something I suddenly want more than anything.
"Your first and your last," I repeat, the words taking on deeper meaning as I say them again. Because that's what I want—to be the only man who ever touches her like this, who makes her feel this way. I want to claim her, not just for tonight but for all the nights to come.
This isn't pretending anymore. There's no audience, no charade to maintain. This is real. The way my heart pounds when she looks at me, the way her touch both calms and ignites me, the feelings I've been fighting since she moved in next door.
I take myself in hand, stroking once from base to tip, watching her eyes widen as she follows the movement. Then I position myself at her entrance, feeling the heat and wetness there.
"Ready?" I ask, my voice barely recognizable.
She nods, and I push forward slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort as I ease into her tight heat. The sensation is overwhelming. She's so tight, so perfect around me.
Sunny throws her head back, teeth sinking into her lower lip as I fill her completely.
"Does it hurt?" I ask, forcing myself to remain still when every instinct screams at me to move.
"A bit," she admits, her voice breathy. "But nothing I can't handle. Just... give me a moment."
I wait, trembling with the effort of restraint, my hands stroking her hips, trying to help her relax. After what feels like an eternity, she moves toward me, and I feel her body yielding, accepting me.
I place my hand under her chin, lifting her face to mine. "You're perfect," I tell her, meaning it more than any words I've ever spoken. "Your body is perfect."
A blush spreads across her cheeks, down her neck to her chest. She squirms beneath me, and the movement nearly undoes me.
"Fuck me, Garrett," she says, the profanity sounding like poetry on her lips. "Please."
I don't need to be told twice. I begin to move, establishing a rhythm that starts gentle but quickly builds in intensity. Each thrust draws a soft sound from her that urges me on, makes me want to hear more, to give her more.
