Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I keep a steady tempo, changing my position every few moments to make the headboard banging sound different. I even find a spot in the mattress that does creak a little, and I bounce on it. “That’s it . . . good girl. Take all of me. I know you can,” I order, as though someone is obeying. “Squeeze it for me . . . fuck yeah.” I’m enjoying the play of emotions that cross her face—horror, interest, desire, denial.
Luna’s grip on the blanket has gone slack, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips. “Is that what you really say when you’re . . . doing that?” She makes a gesture, motioning to me.
“Depends on what they like,” I answer quietly. “Why? Was I wrong? Does sweet, little Luna like a bit of dirty talk in her fucking?”
Her cheeks flush and then her fire is back. With a determined set of her jaw, she kicks the covers off, plants her feet on the bed, and starts bouncing on her own, her hips bridging up into the air before dropping to the mattress. “Oh, Carter! Yessss,” she moans in a voice a solid octave higher than her own. “Make it hurt, baby!”
I’m shocked to the core for a solid two seconds before I realize she’s playing along.
Two more seconds of watching her hips rise and fall, her tits bouncing with every move.
She lifts one brow, challenging me.
I join in, and it quickly turns into a competition of who can say the most outlandish thing as we bounce and bang in a ridiculous simulation of sex that’s louder and more acrobatic than any I’ve ever actually had.
“Make that pussy suck me dry. I wanna fill you up, breed you with my seed.” Bang, bang, bang.
She whispers, “Gross.” Louder, for the show, she cries out, “Choke me, Daddy!”
Those words coming from Luna’s mouth surprise me. In my mind, I can see my hand wrapped around her throat, putting the slightest pressure as we get closer and closer to coming simultaneously. And even though we’re faking, my dick is rock hard. Strictly biological, I assure myself. It’s not because I want Luna. That would be an unbelievably huge mistake, especially for a one-night stand.
I mean, seriously, this is damn near phone sex levels of hot, everything but the skin contact, so a physical reaction is only logical. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
“Can I come? Please?” Bounce, bounce, bounce.
The words roll off her tongue easily, and I wonder if there’s something about Luna Starr that I never considered. Her sex talk, even if fake, has a decidedly submissive tilt, and I like it . . . a lot.
I realize I need to answer to keep up appearances, but I desperately want to know what Luna looks like when she comes. Even if it’s for show. “Come for me, baby. Come right now on Daddy’s cock.”
She sobs out a very believable keening whine, slapping the mattress with her hand. Her eyes are closed as she acts out, and I watch with focused concentration, noting the color on her cheeks, the hitch in her breath, the bounce of her breasts, and the way her sweatshirt has climbed up her thighs with her movements.
“That’s it, good girl,” I croon. I grip the blanket myself, not to hide from Luna but to stop myself from reaching out to touch her skin.
Her eyes flutter open and she grins. “Your turn,” she mouths.
Oh, yeah. Right. I plant my feet and hands on the bed, pumping my hips so that the headboard hits the wall rhythmically again. “Fuuuck, Luna. You feel so good.”
I grunt a few more times, letting the last one trail off, and then I lie belly down on the bed so my erection can’t be seen.
Luna collapses to the pillow too, arranging her hair beneath her head. We’re panting from the exertion despite not getting any real action. Our eyes meet, and there’s something deep in Luna’s that I can’t identify. Lust? Anger? Disappointment? Embarrassment?
“You okay?” I ask gently.
“I usually take my glasses off. Guys don’t like them, but it’s nice being able to actually see,” she confides as she pushes her glasses higher on her nose. Realizing what she shared, she covers her mouth to conceal the escaping giggles, crossing her legs and rolling a bit.
I can’t help it, I start laughing too.
“Glasses could get . . . messy,” I joke back, and Luna has to bite her sleeve to stop her howls of laughter.
“Still better than in your eyes,” she adds, making a windshield wiper move over both lenses, and that’s how I end up half-dressed, in bed, post-fake-coital, laughing my ass off with my best friend’s little sister, who is also my fake wife.
Life is weird sometimes.
“Seriously, though. If any guy tells you he doesn’t like your glasses, he should not get access to your pussy,” I say firmly. “Your glasses are cute, and most importantly, they’re you.”