Chapter 14
Despite getting only a few hours of sleep, I wake up with the dawn, and immediately, I feel like things are never going to be the same again.
I’m lying with my head on his chest . . .
on the sofa. Despite Ross’s protests that sleeping on the too-small surface is impossible, after last night’s torrid sexual poundings, we were both out like lights.
And I have to admit, I’m incredibly comfortable naked atop him, listening to his soft snores, his arm thrown over his eyes as he lies with his other leg falling to the floor.
With him laid back and unaware, I can’t help but take advantage and look down to the thick cock lying between his legs.
Even now, soft in his sleep, I can’t believe he was able to fit it all inside me.
Oh, yes . . . yes, he did, and if my lust-clouded memory serves me correctly, I gave as good as I got.
I pushed back into him and begged him to pound me harder by the end.
Now we’ve crossed a line I never, ever thought I’d cross with Ross. And while, yeah, teenage me is jumping up and down for ticking the biggest box off her bucket list, adult me is drowning in doubt.
I just slept with my best friend’s big brother. The tormentor I hated. The boy I lusted after before I even really knew what desire was. The fake fiancé that I’m going to marry.
So I just jumped pussy-first into a whole new world of trouble.
This was supposed to be a business arrangement only, not a ‘tear a hole in the sofa cushion with your fingernails as he sends the third orgasm exploding through your body while you fake being in love’ sort of arrangement. That’s just cray-cray.
But the craziest thing of all? I like it. I like it a lot.
It’s like before this wasn’t serious, but now it’s gotten real. Very real.
For me, at least. And isn’t that the million-dollar question?
I’m not a casual sex person, usually, but with at least six months with Ross looming on the horizon, I wonder if I can be.
Can I have sex, fake being in love, get married, and then walk away when the time is right without being broken? Can he?
Though questions are still rolling through my head, my bladder is telling me that regardless of any moral boundaries I might have obliterated, I’ve got some physical needs to take care of. I quietly slip off the sofa and hurry to the bathroom, where I freshen up.
“Good morning,” Ross says quietly behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my neck.
I arch my back, pushing my bare ass back against another part of him that’s woken up as he slides his right hand up to cup my breast and pinch my nipple lightly.
“Mmm . . . so that wasn’t a ridiculously vivid sex dream last night. ”
“No,” I say with a small smile, turning my head to look up into his eyes. “But thanks for confessing that you wanted me first.” I can’t help the tease as it slips from my tongue.
With a grin, I tell him, “We can’t right now . . . I’ve got an early client, and it’s just luck I woke up in time.”
Part of me, a big part of me, wants Ross to ignore what I just said and bend me over the sink so we can watch in the mirror as he gives me a very big good morning. And though I hate to admit it, I want him to make me say ‘please’ again because damn if he didn’t make it worth it.
But instead, he pulls back, a smirk on his face as he nods and heads over to the toilet cubicle, closing the frosted glass door behind him.
It’s a nice customization and allows us to both be in the bathroom without actually having to watch anyone ‘do their business’.
A little mystery is a good thing, especially when I’m not sure what side of the real-fake line we’re leaning toward.
“You know, I never really thought this would happen,” Ross says, broaching the subject while I start washing my face. “You know, us . . . sleeping together. I figured we had better odds of killing each other.”
I chuckle, though some small gash in my teenage heart heals a little bit at the longed-for recognition, and then we’re both quiet for a moment, our eyes locked on one another in the mirror as he stands behind me.
Ross laughs, and a moment later, the toilet flushes and he comes out and washes his hands. “Okay, point taken. But you’re Abi’s best friend, the same girl I taunted for years.” Seems his thoughts this morning are in line with my own. I wonder if they diverge from my wishy-washy uncertainty, though.
“That you did.”
Ross hums, then quickly bends down and literally kisses my ass. “Well, those chicken legs of yours have become finger lickin’ good!” His finger traces up the back of my thigh.
I shiver, gasping when he smacks my ass playfully. “Bastard! Do you know how much I hated that? You were the sole reason I learned how to do a proper squat and lunge. I did supersets every night for years.”
“I didn’t know that,” Ross says, stepping back, his smile fading a little. But then the teasing light comes back, though a little dimmer. “I’d say I’m sorry, but have you seen your ass? Whatever you did worked and was worth it, honey.”
I chuckle, and then we’re both quiet for a moment, our eyes locked on one another in the mirror as he stands behind me.
“I don’t regret what we did.” His voice is rough, like he’s talking over gravel.
“I don’t, either,” I reply, grabbing my toothbrush and green Colgate toothpaste.
I prep my brush, then look up at him. “Look, we’ve crossed that bridge, and it was nice, ten out of ten, would ride that ride again.
But I know the drill. Fake marriage, fake relationship, no strings attached.
But there’s nothing wrong with us getting a little something extra out of the deal, I guess. ”
“Rebel, you’re breaking your own rules,” he says, but instead of a tease, it sounds like a compliment.
The way his eyes trace over the reflection of my naked body feels like a compliment too.
Then he straightens, everything I just said apparently hitting him on delay.
“Did you just say that last night was ‘nice’?”
I smirk, giving him a version of his own cocky grin, and nod. “Yep,” I say, popping the P.
“I’ll show you nice,” he growls, turning me to lean my ass against the cold marble and dropping to his knees.
I try to protest, really, I do. “Ross, I have to go to work. I’m going to be late.”
He looks up at me, feral and possessive. “Brush your teeth. I’ll make this pussy come before you’re even done.”
And though it was his own words, he gets to it and I can almost hear the ‘challenge accepted’ resonating in his mind.
He licks me fast and hard, fluttering his tongue over my clit as he slips two fingers inside my already wet slit.
His other hand jacks himself in tempo with his thrusts.
It’s the slowest tooth-brushing session of my life.
It’s the fastest orgasm I’ve ever had. He’s lucky I don’t choke on the toothpaste.
As I float back to Earth, white foam running down my chin, he grins at me from the V of my legs, evidence of his own orgasm on the floor beneath him. “Was that nice, Vi?”
I purse my lips. “Okay, it was better than nice. It was good.” And with a squeal, I jump up and make a run for the bedroom closet. He chases me and pins me up against the wall, handing me a towel to wipe my mouth on. “I really do have to get ready for work.”
“I know, but we deserve better than nice or good. Seems like we’ve got some work to do.”
He knows as well as I do that nothing about last night or this morning was ho-hum ‘good’.
It was mind-blowing, life-altering epicness.
But he’s letting me hide, letting our teasing game continue, and I appreciate that.
I need that buffer for my heart to remember who he is, who I am, and that this is fake and casual.
He smacks my ass and presses a kiss to my still overly minty mouth. “Go to work, Chickie.”
YOU ARE LOVINGLY INVITED
Together with their families,
Ross Andrews & Violet Russo
Request the honor of your presence at the celebration of their love
At St. Luke’s Church of the Hills
Saturday, June twenty-sixth, at six in the evening
Reception To Follow
“It’s gorgeous,” I whisper as tears spring to my eyes. They’re beautiful, the same peach and white embossed paper that she bought for my wedding with Colin, but now that it’s printed out with Ross’s name next to mine, there’s a hitch in my throat.
She also added some subtle metallic glitter or something so the whole thing feels dreamy.
“How did you do that?” I ask, tilting the paper one way and then another.
“Shimmer spray,” she answers with a shrug. “I’ll lay them out and do them in batches. Dries instantly, so it’ll be quick, but I think it adds a little something extra.”
It absolutely does.
“So this is the prototype. Do I have your approval?” Abi asks.
I nod. “Of course. Absolutely. They’re everything. Too bad they’re for a wedding that’s—”
She cuts me off. “A wedding I’ve been looking forward to since we were about ten years old and I saw you go gaga over Ross,” Abi says, hugging me.
“However it’s come about, it’s happening.
My best friend is marrying my best brother.
I’m happy about that, regardless of the circumstances. Which you can thank me for later.”
“Abi, he’s your only brother,” I point out, but I still smile a little.
“So everyone keeps saying, but I keep surprising them,” Abi says with a grin, giving me another squeeze before stepping back.
“So, let me punch in the print order here . . . and by the time you get done telling me about work and the wedding preparations, everything will be ready to go to the mailroom clerk.”
“How’d you know about that?” I ask.