Page 15 of Rosé with My Fake Fiancé
I wake up overheated.The air conditioning in my hotel room cranks out cool air, but I’m flushed all over. Hot flash? No. A dream. It takes a moment for me to remember what I was dreaming about—Luc.
I kick off the covers and stretch my legs in the dim morning light. When I got back to the hotel last night, slightly tipsy from the hefty last glass of wine, I showered off the day—the sweat of walking all over Paris in the summer but also the echoes of Luc’s touch on my skin—and changed into a tank top and sleep shorts. I tidied up my things to make room for my friend’s stuff and sunk into bed, exhausted.
Now I kick off the shorts, leaving just my underwear. In my dream, Luc had me by the back of the neck again, just like he’d held me in front of James. Unlike in real life, though, I was bent over Luc’s body on the bed, his fingers digging into my flesh as he guided my mouth over his cock.
I touch myself, my hand sliding over the curve of my breasts and the swell of my stomach to between my legs. My panties are damp from arousal, and my clit swells under my fingers.
What would Luc feel like? Taste like? I close my eyes and return to my fantasy. In my mind, he’s watching me, gazing down on me with that flirtatious twinkle in his eye and dirty words on his lips.
My frustration is building, and my foot is stuck under the covers, so I sit up, strip off my panties, and shove the fluffy duvet hard enough that it tumbles off the foot of the bed. I lay back and close my eyes and pull up the image of Luc looking down at me again. His fingers tighten on the back of my neck, he leaks pre-cum into my mouth, his muscles under my hands strain with desire. It’s erotic, and it has me using both hands, spreading myself and using two fingers to circle my clit. I arch off the bed, my legs tensing and straining along with Imaginary Luc, and I’m just about—
“AH!”
The scream at the door jolts me upright, and I’m confronted with the sight of my three best friends scrambling to try to get out of the doorway. Jade, who was likely leading the charge, is trying to exit and close the door, but Emma stands in her way, her hands over her eyes.
“Emma, move!” Jade cries while averting her eyes. I scramble for the covers, but I’ve kicked them so far, they are on the floor. I manage to grab one edge, but it’s caught under the corner of the mattress so that when I pull, the bed underneath me shifts instead of the sheet.
“Sorry, Tessa!” Emma calls and steps back, but she trips over the luggage behind her. In Jade’s haste to close the door, she closes it too quickly, and it bounces off her heel and wide open, hitting the door stop.
Jade goes down with a cry, and Emma makes a noise like the wind’s knocked out of her.
Finally, the sheet gives, and I’m able to wrap it around myself.
All the while, I can hear Sara cackling down the hall.
“I’m covered!” My cheeks are hot.
“I’m sorry!” Jade returns. “We were trying to sneak in. We thought you were still asleep since you didn’t answer your phone.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I don’t even know what time it is.” I reach for my phone and check the time. Seven thirteen.
When I look back, my friends are huddled in the doorway. Sara has calmed her laughter down, although she’s struggling not to giggle, and Emma’s face is bright red.
Jade just grins at me. Then her eyes widen. “Wait, is Luc here?”
“No, he’s not. For Pete’s sake, come in. Let me put pants on.” I sweep my panties and shorts off the floor and bring them into the bathroom with me and my undignified toga.
When I come out fully dressed, there are hugs all around and more apologies for surprising me.
“I can’t believe I didn’t pee my pants laughing,” Sara says. “It was close.”
“We know now never to surprise Tessa.” Jade cackles again.
“Can we just pretend it didn’t happen?” Emma asks, second-hand embarrassment making her cheeks just as red as mine.
Jade hooks her arm around my shoulders. “We’re lucky Tessa was alone and not withLuc.” She sing-songs his name.
“All right all right.” I elbow Jade, and she laughs.
There have been times that we’ve seen each other’s bodies—I’ve seen Sara’s breasts when she had a cancer scare, and Jade has mooned me more times than I can count—but never quite like this. The teasing will, I’m sure, continue throughout the weekend.
This morning has already been a flurry of emotions—horniness, pleasure, and mortification—but I am also buzzing in excitement because I get to see these wonderful women again.
Despite the early morning travel and unexpected eyeful, the ladies all look happy and chipper as they quickly settle their suitcases and bathroom stuff and tell me about their trips.
Jade’s a high-energy person who loves to travel. She’s dressed comfortably and has pulled back her thick, long, dark brown hair with a gray streak in her usual ponytail. She packed a small backpack, which she throws on the couch before checking out our view.
Sara, the yoga instructor, with leggings and a loose tank top on her fit body and her brown hair pulled up in a loose bun, is a real-life catalog for athleisure stores. Her small duffle bag sits on the bed—not the one I slept in—and she pulls out some tea and agave nectar and puts them next to the coffee machine.
