Faking It For Mr. Right Read online

  “Fuck that feels amazing,” I breathe, and he chuckles softly, making his mouth vibrate around my breast before he leans back, a grin on his face.

  “Believe me, this is only the beginning,” he whispers. He moves slow, sliding down my body an inch at a time. He nips at my stomach, making me gasp and arch against him, before his tongue finds the curve of my hip and traces it down to the clasp of my jeans. He kisses my belly, which hitches with a tight breath beneath him. His hands undo the clasp of my jeans, and he wriggles them down over my hips.

  My heart speeds up, not just from the pleasurable sensations of his body and skin pressed against mine. I arch my back to glance around us. But at this hour, off the beaten path road, I know we’re completely alone. Nobody comes up here this late.

  Still, my heart races. I’ve never done anything like this—sneaking away to somewhere public, even if it is an empty scene. The simple idea that someone might stumble across us is enough to spike my adrenaline even more than the sexy as hell man sliding down my body does.

  He catches my eye and arches a brow. “What about you?” he murmurs as he finishes undoing the zip on my jeans. “Do you come out here with all your dates?” His grin is wicked, dirty.

  My face lights on fire. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” I admit softly.

  He pushes my jeans down, and I arch my hips up to let him wriggle them off me. He tosses them to the side of us, and bends to trail his tongue along the edge of my panties.

  I shudder beneath his caresses.

  “Any idea how far sound carries from here?” he asks, his breath heating the trails his tongue left across my belly. He hooks a thumb under my panties.

  “No idea.”

  “Well, we’ll find out when I make you come,” he responds, and winks, before he tugs my panties down.

  I inhale sharply. Especially when he pushes my legs wider apart and dips down to trail his tongue over my mound. With one hand, he traces up along my thigh, his tongue running over the creases where my hips meet my thighs.

  His fingertip reaches the lips of my pussy, and he traces them softly, before parting them. They make a slick sound, and his grin widens. “Guess you’re as thirsty for me as I am for you, Melanie.”

  I swallow hard, trying to catch my breath as his finger starts to stroke along my slit, back and forth. I can feel my juices coating his fingertip, wet and slick. “What can I say?” I manage breathily. “You know how to push my buttons.”

  “Maybe. But I’d rather taste them.” With a grin, he leans back down and pushes my knees wider, before his tongue follows the path his fingers just took.

  I gasp as his hot tongue glides along my outer lips, tracing one at a time, slow and slick. My hips move of their own volition, arching up against his face, as I reach down to run my hands through his hair.

  His tongue presses between my lips, trailing up and down my slit. When it grazes the edge of my clit, already swollen with want, I inhale sharply and tighten my fists in his hair.

  He takes his time, alternating between licking and sucking gently at the folds of my pussy lips, and trailing his tongue along me. I arch my hips, and he slides his hands underneath me, gripping my ass tightly. He leans back, then, and a little mewl of protest escapes my lips. Until I glance down to find him gazing up at me.

  “God, you taste incredible,” he murmurs, his breath hot on my skin, his mouth inches from my pussy. He lowers to trail his tongue along my slit again, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on mine, clearly savoring every time I twist and arch beneath him.

  Inch by inch, he slowly presses his tongue inside me. I buck up toward him, trying to arch my hips closer to his mouth, to feel more, more, more of him. “Fuck, right there,” I breathe as his tongue reaches fully inside me, his mouth clamped against my pussy lips. He slowly circles his tongue inside me, tracing around the walls of my pussy, making me clench and my body tremble.

  Then he curls his tongue up, so the very tip drags down inside me, and pulls out again, right along my G-spot. I gasp, but he doesn’t slow down. He pushes back into me, his hands gripping my ass tightly, pulling me against his face. He thrusts his tongue in and out of me, slowly picking up his rhythm, as I bury my fists in his hair and cry out, my back arching and my head falling back against the soft blanket.

  The stars spiral overhead, a few wisps of clouds joining in, but I barely even notice the beautiful night sky. All I can think about is the man crouched between my legs, licking and lapping at me like he can’t get enough.

  “Don’t stop,” I protest loudly when he draws back, but it’s only for a second. Then he laps along my slit, all the way up to my sensitive clit, already swollen and aching with desire. When he licks right across it, a faint cry escapes my mouth, echoing in the night air.

  He licks me harder, faster, flattening his tongue to lap across my clit again and again, until the pleasure builds toward a sharp peak deep inside me.

  “I’m going to come,” I manage to pant, an effort in and of itself because I can hardly catch my breath, my heart is racing so fast. “Fuck, fuck, I’m about to…”

  He pauses, and I twist beneath him in frustration, trying to pull his head back toward me. But he pauses for a second, grinning down at me in the moonlight as if he’s drinking in my body. “I want you to tell me what you’re feeling,” he whispers, his breath tickling my belly, my bare thighs. “In detail.”

  I shiver, not just from the goosebumps rising all over my body or the spiked adrenaline in my veins. I’ve never really talked dirty before, beyond the basics. But when he lowers his face back to my pussy, I try to obey. “Your tongue feels like… liquid fire,” I murmur, as he starts licking me again in slow, strong strokes. He grazes over my clit, and I gasp. “I’m so wet for you. I feel like I could burst.”

  He licks me harder again, faster. Stars spark behind my eyelids.

  “I want to come for you. I want to come on your face,” I gasp, and I can feel, more than see him, grin against me, his tongue curling as he licks me harder still, drawing my hips up and toward his face. “Fuck, Xander.”

  That’s all I manage before he hits the sweet spot, and the orgasm overtakes me. I scream aloud, not even caring who might hear me or how far my voice might carry. But Xander doesn’t slow. He keeps licking, lapping at me, until my whole body shakes and my toes curl, the force of the orgasm overtaking me.

  Finally, he draws back, kissing his way up my belly as I collapse back against the blanket, still shivering. But I don’t shiver for long. Soon, he kisses all the way up to my chest, my neck, my throat, the corner of my jaw. His whole warm solid body presses down against me, and I don’t let myself stop to think. I tear at the clasp of his jeans, push down his zipper.

  He grins and leans down to kiss me, hard and full on the mouth, his tongue sliding between my lips so I can taste myself. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he murmurs. His smile turns sly. “Not to mention sexy as hell. Who taught you how to talk so dirty, my quiet country girl?” He leans down to nip the edge of my jawline as he says that, and I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him against me with a sigh.

  “We’re not entirely clean-cut out here in the countryside,” I reply with a grin of my own. I tilt my face to kiss the edge of his jaw, his cheek, enjoying the way his stubble lightly scratches against my soft, smooth skin. “We can be dirty girls.”

  “Is that so?” He leans back to catch my eye, even as I continue to push his jeans down over his hips. “Well, you’ll just have to show me.”

  I finish pushing his jeans off, and tug at the hem of his boxers next. But I’m not prepared for the moment when his stiff, hard cock springs free from the soft cotton fabric. Fuck. He’s huge. My eyes go wide, and my lips part a little as I reach down to wrap my hands around the base of his shaft. “Fuck, Xander.”

  He rocks his hips toward me, pushing his cock farther between my palms. “I want to feel that tight, wet pussy of yours wrapped around my cock, dirty girl,” he murmurs,
and I feel a thrill of lust, a pulse of desire that travels all the way to my pussy, still soaked and throbbing from my orgasm.

  My clit is so sensitive that when he arches his hips along me, leaning down so his cock lies along the flat plane of my belly, I groan with pleasure just at feeling him close to it. “I want you,” I breathe in return. “I want to feel you inside me.” I tighten my fists around his thick shaft, savoring the velvety feel of his smooth skin, the hard solid steel rod of his cock beneath. With both hands, I start to pump back and forth, my eyes fixed on him, on the way his pupils dilate and his lips part, white-hot lust flaring behind his dark eyes.

  “Tell me what you want,” he says, a little louder, commanding now.

  I swallow hard around a lump in my throat. “Fuck me,” I whisper. “Fuck me, hard.”

  His mouth quirks into a little sideways smirk. He reaches down with one hand to spread my legs wide, until he’s lying between them again, the hard, muscular plane of his abs and chest pressed along my soft stomach, my hard nipples pointed against his strong pecs.

  His hands slide down my curves to grip my hips, and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock with one hand, guiding the tip to my entrance. “Say it again,” he commands.

  “Fuck me,” I practically beg this time, and his smile widens in response.

  He drives into me with one solid thrust. It makes me cry out with the sudden force of it, the way his thick cock stretches my pussy wide as he arches his hips to push deeper, deeper.

  When he’s all the way inside me, I raise my legs to wrap around his waist, arching up against him, and I let my head fall back against the blanket. Fuck. He feels incredible. I’ve never felt stuffed so full. My back arches to drive my hips up closer to his, and I gasp faintly when he pulls back out of me. But he’s only gone for a second. Then he thrusts back again, a little faster this time.

  “Has anyone ever told you your pussy is fucking incredible?” he murmurs against my throat, his breath hot against me before he kisses the edge where my neck meets my collarbone. “So fucking tight and wet…” He pulls back, drives in again.

  I tighten my legs around his waist. “I feel so fucking full,” I manage to breathe.

  “You like having my fat cock inside you, dirty girl?” He pulls back, thrusts again, and I moan in assent.

  We move like that, picking up speed until we find a steady pace. Xander drives his cock into me again and again, until it takes all my concentration not to lose control right then and there. Finally, the sensations grow too strong, my already sensitive clit throbbing for release. “I’m so close,” I pant, and he arches his hips, angling his cock inside me to drive in again, again.

  I cry out faintly as the second orgasm of the night hits me, making my toes curl and my whole body quiver. He keeps thrusting inside me, faster now, nearing his own finish. He growls out my name as he comes inside me, and I moan again at feeling the white-hot sensation of him coming inside my pussy, our juices mingling and dripping down my thighs as his thrusts slow.

  When he finally stops moving, we lie there for a moment, sweat-slicked on the evening grass, our limbs entangled, our eyes locked on one another. He leans down to kiss me again, slow and soft this time, and for just a little while, it feels like this moment might never end.

  3

  Xander

  I stare at the contract in front of me, but the words swim on the page, all blurring together, until all I can make out is the occasional name. With a groan, I let the paper fall back to the desk and shove back my chair, standing to pace back and forth across the office. All I can think about, all I can focus on, is her. Every time I shut my eyes, I see her prone body stretched along the grass in front of me, her nipples hard as rocks, her chest heaving in the night air as I lick her toward a climax.

  I see those dark eyes locked on mine; I hear her throaty, sexy as hell voice begging me to fuck her.

  I cannot get Melanie out of my fucking head.

  Which is a problem, because it’s already been a week since I left the town where she lived, without anything more than a short goodbye. We both knew we’d likely never see one another again. It was a one-off. A particularly mind-blowing one-night stand, but nothing more than that. After all, what could come of it? She lives out in the country; she has her whole small-town life. And me, as much as I travel, I’m a city man. New York City is my home base. As much as I like spending the odd weekend in the country, I’d lose my mind living there full-time. Not to mention my whole career would go down the toilet.

  It would never work out. Better to just accept it for what it was—a pleasant fling. And to forget about her.

  Forget about her.

  But I can’t. She haunts my dreams. She interrupts my work, makes it hard to concentrate or focus on what needs to get done. Which is a particularly big problem this week, because fuck, there is so much work that needs to get finished.

  My phone beeps, interrupting my mental train mid-wreck. Grateful for any excuse to get my mind off its usual spiral of preoccupation this week, I leap for it. “Xander’s office.”

  “Xander, I have your father on line one,” replies the crisp voice of my secretary, Jake. “He says it’s urgent.”

  “Put him through,” I reply, collapsing back down at my desk chair and running my hands through my hair.

  “Xander?” asks my father’s deep, brusque voice a second later.

  I clear my throat—and my mind—hard. “Dad. Good news. I visited the Keller farms personally, and they passed inspection. All we need to do is finalize the grant contract now.”

  At least, I thought it was good news. Until I hear the responding groan from the other line. “Xander, what have I told you about prioritization?”

  This feels like a trick question. “That I need to work on it,” I reply. “And I have been. I’ve been prioritizing the farms from those with most potential down to the least, in order to be sure we visit all the ones we have the highest hopes for first.”

  “The key word in that sentence is we, Xander,” my father snaps. “You need to learn to delegate. You can’t be personally running around on all of these funding hunts yourself.”

  “But Dad, you said we should take a personal interest—”

  “By which I mean reading through the contracts, finalizing them, going over the data with a fine-toothed comb. Not spending all of your valuable time running all over God’s green earth. How are you supposed to focus on any of your day to day tasks if you’re on the move all the time? And moreover, how is your life outside of the office going to progress?”

  I grimace. Not this again. “Dad, my personal life is just fine.”

  “You’re already 35, and you don’t even have any potential marriage prospects. No long-term girlfriend. When are you going to start to take dating seriously? You’ve had your fun. It’s time to settle down. Find a woman who’s wife material, have children. Carry on the lineage.”

  “I’ve told you before, it will happen in its own time. When it’s meant to.”

  “Marriage doesn’t just happen, Xander. You don’t just trip over the right girl when the timing is right. You have to work for it, like anything else in life.”

  My stomach churns. I fall silent, my fists clenched in front of me. The truth is, I do want to get married. I do want kids, the house with the white picket fence and the dog running around the yard. The whole nine yards, really. But what I don’t appreciate is being strong-armed into it. My life, and my future marriage, need to happen on my own terms. Not my father’s.

  But he’s already found a way to undermine that. Just like he always does, my father tries to micromanage my personal life as well as my business one.

  On the other end of the line, I can practically hear the wheels in his head turning. “Xander, why do you need to push back against me so much?” he asks, a little softer now. “I know you want the same things.”

  “You know what else I want, too,” I respond, my voice going harder as his softens.

&
nbsp; “Well, there’s an easy way to get it. Once you marry—”

  “Once you force me into marrying, you mean?”

  “Well, you’re hardly taking any incentive to make it happen yourself,” my father barks. “You’ll thank me when it happens. Even if you don’t appreciate my methods in getting you there.”

  “Yeah, well. We’ll see about that,” I mutter. Then I hang up before he can say anything else to infuriate me further. My father cannot just let his children live their lives. Everything with him is calculated, a business move. A negotiation. My relationship with him feels more like CEO and underling than it does father and son. Dad sees me as a pawn to get what he wants.

  And he’s willing to hold the most valuable thing in the world over my head, if it means getting me to do his bidding. To obey his will.

  With another loud groan, I shove at the stack of contracts on my desk. They go spilling out across the floor, papers fluttering every which direction. I groan again, mostly because now I’ll have to reorder them all again.

  But what does it matter? It’s not like I was making progress double-checking them anyway.

  With a sigh, I bend down to scoop up the nearest contract. It’s for the Keller farm. The one near Melanie’s hometown, where I spent three days assessing the potential of the place and the need the farmers demonstrated for more assistance. As I stare at the address, the name of the little town, a memory springs to mind. Melanie, talking about wanting to experience big city life at some point. About how she was dying for a chance to get out of her town, to travel more.

  Unbidden, an idea springs to mind. A terrible idea. Maybe even worse than my father’s plot in the first place. But it just might get me what I want. And I’m fairly sure I know a way to make it worth both of our whiles.