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“If you’re pretending to be my girlfriend, you’re only dating me.” I press my hands flat against the table. “So if you want to practice? You’ll practice with me.”
Practice with me. He doesn’t know what he’s suggesting. Doesn’t know just how inexperienced I am, thank god. I’ll never tell him that.
“Good,” I tell her. “That was really good.” A smile flashes over her lips. She likes these kinds of compliments, I’ve noticed. Maybe not the ones that make her feel ogled or like an object. She’s had enough of those. But she loves being praised. Good thing I fucking love praising her.
i bet i know when else she will like praise...
“Fake or real, you’re mine,” I say. The words feel better than they should. “Take my card next time.”
“I can… kiss you?” she asks. Her voice vibrates, half excitement and half nerves. But her deep green eyes don’t stray from mine. “Yes.” It’s all I can do not to add please.
“Because you don’t date,” I say. “That’s why you’ve never been on one of those couches.” “No, trouble. Because like I said, I don’t share. And that includes letting others watch when I make a woman come.”
“How come you’ve always been able to see through it?” “You’re not the only one who’s perceptive,” I say. And because I’ve looked far, far too much at her over the years. And once I saw the real her, it was the only version I wanted.
“Do you have any kinks?” I read. It’s a pretty broad question, and I glance up to see him looking at me. “You go first.” “Some,” he says. “What are they?” His entire focus is on me, and I feel myself expand beneath it, a piece of paper folded out and smoothed. “I like praising the women I’m with,” he says. “You might have noticed that.”
WHAT DID I SAY EARLIER!!!!
I’ve been afraid of ruining her, but here she is, ruining me. Lesson by lesson and day by day.
My teenage crush. My grown-up annoyance. My fake boyfriend and protector.
“Stay with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Don’t go off in your head.”
He was the one to suggest his best friend and little sister fake date, and he’s now the one person who can’t find out what’s happening in private.
“I should say I’m sorry. I should be sorry.” “You’re not?” “No. I like my mark on you.”
“I’m not sitting in the house the whole time we’re here,” I say. “I’ve had enough of doing that for a lifetime.” I look over at West and find him looking steadily at me. There’s a burn of something in his eyes. A look I’ve come to crave. That’s my girl, I hear.
Her brother is downstairs. I might have to marry to save my estate. She just wants us to practice for when she goes forth and dates men she actually likes. But none of that matters, because here I can pretend she’s mine.
“Are you jealous? she asks.” There’s a low groan in the back of his throat. “You know I want to fuck you. That’s never been the problem. You’re so good and so sweet. I’d give my right arm to feel you come around my cock. To tell you just how good you take me.”
“The only person,” he says darkly, “I should help prepare you for is me.”
