Page 24 of Faking it with the Billionaire
I swallow back that thought or any other ones leading to the bedroom. Not that I couldn’t fuck her on the kitchen counter, but the shades are wide open, and the guys would get quite the show.
My cock stirs at the thought of shoving my hand up her dress. Are her panties soaked? The flushed look on her face tells me that she wants me.
Although most girls would throw themselves at my feet for a wild night with a professional hockey player.
But from what I’ve seen, Emerson isn’t like most girls. Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to her. She doesn’t act like she’s interested, at least most of the time.
“The guys are watching,” I say. As long as we’re supposed to be pretending to be in a relationship, I might as well take advantage of the opportunity that’s presenting itself.
I don’t bother to look at the open curtains to see if the guys really are watching us or if their backs are turned and they’re still seated around the campfire.
Honestly, they probably don’t give a shit about what Emerson and I do other than to tease the hell out of me because that’s what the guys do. Give me shit. I dish it back. It’s part of the comradery of being on the team.
“Bullshit,” she says, calling my bluff, and as she turns her head to see if there are any sets of eyes on us, I make my move.
My lips crash on hers, hard and fierce. I tangle my fingers in her hair, gripping her to me, pressing my body firmly against hers. I want her to feel my cock through my jeans and know that I want her.
It’s all a game.
A war to see who can last the longest and not break.
I want to fuck her right here, right now.
Her mouth opens, and whether she knows the guys aren’t watching or not, she gives me what I desire.
Tongue fucking her is fun, but it’s not enough. It’s not nearly satisfying as I yank her head to the side, and my mouth descends on her neck, biting and nipping at her skin.
I intend to mark her.
I want any man who gets a glimpse of her collarbone to know she belongs to me. If she so much as thinks about going out on a date with another man, there will be questions if they see my mark.
Fuck.
Why am I thinking about her dating another man? She belongs to me.
I paid for her time, her body, and her ability to be my fake girlfriend. That comes with exclusivity, at least from her.
“Kyler,” she rasps, and her words are sweet and sultry. They make my cock even harder.
With one hand buried in her hair, I take another forceful bruising taste of her lips, needing to satisfy the craving building inside of me.
I drag my other hand up her thigh, beneath her little black dress, and feel her panties soaked as I dip my fingers inside.
“You’re so fucking wet for me.” I bite her lips, wanting to make her come.
“It’s not for you,” she says, denying me any hint of satisfaction.
“Liar.” I don’t believe her. She’s displaying all the signs of arousal. Her breathing is heavier and thick, her eyelids drooping, and her panties are soaked. “If not for me, then who here has you dripping wet?” I grab her pussy, waiting for her to answer.
She presses her lips together, trying to keep her composure.
I plan on tearing it down.
“Your brother,” she says with a smirk, and my eyes widen.
I’m sure as hell she’s trying to make me jealous and rile me up. Well, it’s working. Every pang of jealousy imaginable seeps through my veins. She won this battle.
“You want to fuck my brother, Jasper?” I say. I can’t fucking believe her. I spin her around and loosen the button and zipper on my jeans, pulling my cock out. I stroke the length with one hand while I continue to grip her pussy, holding her to me but not giving her the satisfaction she wants.
