Page 53 of Lessons in Faking
“Are you sure about this?” His tone was rough against me, face still close. I’d only have to lean an inch toward him to connect our lips again. It was tempting, but I nodded instead.
“Very sure.”
His hand curled around my thigh, fingers trailing along the skin, moving up until they reached the hem of mytights. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he said in a hush. But I could tell at this point he was trying to reason with himself more than me. And maybe he was right. Maybe it was a bad idea, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t determined to see it through now.
“That entirely depends on your performance, doesn’t it?” I said as the pad of his thumb dipped between my thighs again. His low laugh was muffled by his lips crashing into mine once more, the vibrations traveling all the way to my stomach.
“I guess it does,” he agreed, focusing elsewhere. With his fingers hooking underneath the waistband of my tights, he groaned. “A little help?” he managed to request.
Without thinking of the consequences, I fell back against his desk, hips bucked so he could slide them farther down my legs. Books, papers, and whatever other important materials scattered across the table didn’t matter. Not to him, not to me.
He slowly slid the fabric down my ass and hips, taking his sweet time with it, watching every minuscule reaction of mine as if he needed to burn the image into his mind.
I sat up as soon as I could, and he let himself be swept up in the fluid motion of our tongues intertwining. Gently, one hand between my thighs, one on my chest, he pushed me back onto his desk. I’d be stupid not to comply, and when I did, he smiled sweetly.
He glanced toward the clock. “Close your eyes, Princess.” Barely above a whisper, his voice was commanding all the same. Again, I’d be stupid not to comply.
And despite everything that had happened until this point, despite the fact he’d made me feel better than anyone had managed to before with just a few inappropriate touches, this was where it really started. Where he came alive and devoured me whole.
His hands disappeared under my sweater, scrunching it up with no regard for the fact it cost a fortune. I didn’t care either because his finger trailed across my nipple and his lips puckered around it.
And I hadn’t expected it. Not his lips around my nipple, not the loud moan that escaped me. He chuckled against my skin, one finger coming up to his mouth when he looked at me. “Remember what I said about these walls?” he asked. “Try to keep quiet for me.”
I mouthed asorry, let my head fall to his desk again, and closed my eyes as the next wave of pleasure rolled through me. As his mouth devoted itself to my other nipple, I managed to swallow the sound that crept up my throat. With his body almost entirely on top of mine, I could feel his hard length against my thigh and a small moan slipped from my lips.
But it was harder to stay quiet when his finger began circling my clit over my panties, reaching underneath to tease me just enough, then letting the hem snap back against my skin. He placed his other hand over my mouth, and for a second I wondered why. When he finally hooked his fingers underneath the fabric, pushed it to the side, and made sure it stayed put, I knew.
The sound that came from my lips would’ve beenunavoidable, though now it wasn’t more than a muffled whine. His finger circled my clit, the way my own did when I was by myself. His lips still teased my nipples, and my breath was so heavy that I felt I might faint. Still, I kept as quiet as I could, and I guess he could sense my efforts.
“Good girl,” he breathed against my exposed skin. His pace didn’t waver as he began placing wet kisses down my stomach, along my hips. They moved farther down until he spread my legs and buried his head between them. Kiss after kiss, closer to my core, until he hovered right in front of it. Stopping for a moment, his breath against my exposed skin sent shivers down my spine. I had no chance to recover before his tongue provided an entirely different kind of pleasure.
This time, it was my own hand that shot over my mouth. The only sounds in the room were my muted moans, whimpers, and cries as his tongue varied in speed and pressure. And then, when his second hand slid down my thigh, giving no warning before two fingers pumped into me, I was done for.
“God,” McCarthy grunted against my clit. The sound was heavenly. “You’re so wet for me.”
I let my back arch off his desk, waves of pleasure continuing to drive me closer to an orgasm I hadn’t expected today. My hands were playing with his hair, tugging at it whenever his fingers found that one spot.
And after a while, they found itover, andover, andoveragain. “Please don’t stop,” I murmured. Pleasure was written all over my face as I lifted my head to look at him for the first time. Fuck was it a sight to behold.
It didn’t take more than a glance of him between my thighs, his hair a mess and his eyes connecting with mine, for my chest to tighten at the same time as my core did. “Fuck,” I hissed, falling back.
“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” The only answer that made it past my lips was a broken moan, though he got the message. His pace stayed consistent, and I was grateful he was listening to what my body was telling him.This is good. Don’t stop. Just keep going.
And he did. He did it perfectly.
My teeth bit down on my lower lip as the wave of relief washed over me.
And all with a minute to spare.
*
No wonder McCarthy was such a frequent topic among girls in party bathrooms.
My eyes slid over to him on the opposite side of his desk, busy reading through the practice quiz he’d made me take, like he hadn’t given me the best orgasm of my life twenty minutes ago.
When it seemed like he’d reached the bottom of the last page, my eyes shifted. No need to stroke his ego further. I tried hard to seem just as cool, calm, and collected as he did, but my heart skipped a beat whenever I so much as looked at the wrong parts of him. His lips, his eyes, his fingers—everything reminded me of what he’d done to me on the very desk we were now sitting at. I didn’t thinkI’d ever be able to walk into this office without thinking of McCarthy between my legs.
Life was cruel. Unfair.
