Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Willow
This all feels so real.
This all feels so real.
This all feels so freaking real.
I can’t explain what is happening deep inside of me, but it’s like my chest is blossoming into something radiant. It’s like my mind’s opening to the possibility of love.
Reality crashes down around me as I remember this is all fake. It’s a ruse, and I have to stop pretending that something real can come from this.
It can’t.
It won’t.
This isn’t a fairytale where happily ever afters happen to anyone who wishes hard enough for them.
We’re just having fun, but when I saw the tears in Brock’s eyes when he was listening to his sister speak, I nearly professed my love right there and then.
Wait.
I do not love Brock.
Right?
I close my eyes, Brock’s arms wrapped tightly around me as the elevator races up to our hotel room. I push away the guilt of earlier when Carol Atwood stopped me before we left the dinner and pulled me aside.
She told me how happy she was that I was with Brock, and I felt horrible for lying to her when I said, ‘I care so much about him.’
Although I no longer think it was a lie.
It isn’t.
Even now as the elevator doors spring open, I feel it in my chest. I care about Brock. Deeply.
However, I can never act on these feelings. Nothing will ever be real between us. Brock isn’t serious about me. He doesn’t want me.
I honestly have no idea if he wants me or not, but I’m too afraid to ask him. I’m too afraid to put my heart on the line and tell him I want this relationship to be real.
As we step off the elevator and head down the hall, hand-in-hand, I push away the guilt and worry. I decide right here and now that I’m going to enjoy these last few days with Brock as his fake girlfriend and everything that entails.
Including him inside me.
Because I’ve never in my life wanted anything so badly.
Brock opens the hotel room door, and leads me inside. Before he can even turn on a light, he’s got me wrapped up in his arms, his mouth pressing kisses along my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about having you beneath me. I want you, Willow.”
I gaze into his eyes, trying to memorize everything about tonight. “I want you too.”
We move in unison to the bed, and as soon as his knees hit the mattress, he sits down. I move between his legs, and his hands rub along my waist.
He’s eye level with my stomach, and he gazes up at me. “You turn me on so fucking much, Willow.”
My hand flies through his hair as my other hand rests atop his shoulder. I could easily straddle his lap right now, but his fingers move across my knee, and slowly trace upward. “Brock,” I whisper.
A small smile lifts his lips as his hand goes under my dress. He keeps moving up, up, and up and then his hand bunches around the panel of my panties and he drags his hand down, bringing my panties with it. “These panties are mine now.”
I step out of them. “Brock,” I whisper again because I want him to keep going. I don’t ever want him to stop. “Please,” I beg of him.
He brings the panties to his nose and inhales deeply, causing me to blush slightly. “I own these now. And I’ll be using them every day to jerk off into.” He fists the red panties in his hand, and unzips his pants with the other. He pulls his hard flesh out and rubs my panties over his dick.
It’s hot.
Very hot.
“Wow,” I say, licking my lips. “I like watching you do that.”
His eyes shoot back up to mine and he smiles. The smile nearly takes my breath away. He’s just so gorgeous. And endearing, and everything.
I feel myself falling harder, but there’s no stopping it. My chest hurts, and I can’t stop the want and need swimming throughout my system.
“You like this?” he asks, raising a brow while his hand continues to jerk himself off with my panties.
I nod. “I do. I’m so turned on, Brock.”
His smile widens. “You need me to get you off, don’t you?”
I nod again. “Yes. Please.”
“Dress off, now,” he demands.
I quickly do as he asks, not wanting to endure another one of his punishments. I smile at him as I step away and remove my dress. I’m standing completely nude for him, not wearing a bra with the dress, and his eyes drink me in.
“You’re so fucking pretty, Willow. How have I never noticed just how pretty you were?”
I shrug. “Because you hated me.”
He shakes his head. “No, I never really hated you, Willow. In fact,” he blushes, “I actually had a small crush on you in middle school.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’d pull your hair to get your attention, and you hated me.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me you liked me?”
He gives me a coy smile. “I was twelve. I didn’t know how to act around my older sister’s best friend. You all thought I was a pain in your asses.”
I laugh. “Well, that’s true.” I step closer, and his arms rest on my hips as he kisses along my torso. “I don’t think that way now,” I whisper.
His eyes glance up quickly. “Good,” he says before lifting my one leg up to rest beside him on the bed. He leans back, bringing my pussy over his mouth, and we move until I’m straddling his face with him lying flat on his back.
“I’ve never done this before,” I tell him. “What if I suffocate you?”
He hums along my slippery folds. “Impossible.” He nips at my clit, and sinks his fingers into the flesh of my hips as he rocks me over him.
I’m riding Brock Atwood’s face and it feels soooooo good.
My mind tries to process a million things all at once. Like the fact that Brock had a crush on me once upon a time. Or the fact that everyone thinks we’re a couple. Also, the fact that Brock Atwood is giving me one of the most epic orgasms I’ve ever had in my life.
“I’m coming,” I call out as I keep grinding myself against his face. “Oh god, I’m coming!”
I keep going, my orgasm stretching out until I’m clenching, spasming, and moaning through my release. “Brock,” I call out at the height of it all, feeling like my body’s floating. I’m racing toward the sky, rising, until it all comes crashing back down in an unwavering beautiful bliss.
I slide off him, lying on my side along the bed, not even sure where he is at this point as I close my eyes and savor the last little remnants of my orgasm. “Brock,” I whisper.
“I’m right here, Willow. That was amazing. I’ve never done that before either. I’m harder than I’ve ever been,” he whispers.
I open my eyes, watching as Brock moves his body over mine.
“I need to fuck you. I need to fuck you,” he repeats over and over, and I spread my legs.
“Do it, Brock. Let loose on me.”
His eyes lock with mine. “You sure? I’ve been holding back a little because I don’t want to hurt you.”
I shake my head. “You could never hurt me.” I want to say physically. Because I have a feeling I’m not too sure about what he could do to my heart if I gave it to him.
This is fake, I repeat my mantra in my head.
Brock pushes his dick inside me, and I moan out long and hard. “You feel so fucking good, Willow. Fuck,” he groans. He delves in deeper, pushing his thickness deeper inside me. “Feels so good.”
I drag my fingernails down his back, feeling his hot flesh beneath my fingertips. “So do you.”
He pumps harder, and then before I know it, he lets loose, and it’s glorious. His dick dives deeper on each thrust and I spread my legs even wider, inviting him in.
He pulls his torso up, resting his pelvic bone along my clit, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Like that?” he asks me, and I’m a frenzied mess beneath him.
“Yes, Brock, yes.” My moans are elevated. My hands grapple along his back, trying to hold on as he pumps faster inside me. “Oh god,” I call out.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Never fucked a pussy this good.”
He keeps thrusting his dick inside me, and my body is nearly spent as I feel the new wave of a fresh orgasm cresting. I’m going to come again.
So quickly after my last orgasm. This is unheard of.
“Don’t stop,” I cry out, loving the feel of his pelvic bone against my clit. I use it, grinding myself against it, focusing on the feeling of it. “Yes, Brock.”
I’m a filthy mess beneath him. Honestly, I could profess my love for him right now and actually mean it. I just know I don’t ever want him to stop.
Who knew sex could be this good?
“Please, I’m so close,” I call out as Brock keeps hammering away inside me.
His eyes lock with mine, and he almost appears possessed. Like a raving lunatic in search of something. A release. An orgasm. I can see so clearly in his eyes that he needs to come. Desperately.
I reach my hand down between our legs, milking his balls, stretching them between my fingers, wanting to help him reach his release. “I’m about to come,” I say, feeling so intimately close to this man it’s insane.
“Fuck,” he calls out when my finger comes into contact with his back hole. “Oh, Willow,” he bellows out as I keep playing with him. “Fuck,” he calls once more and I can feel him throbbing inside me, his eyes heated and intense.
The feeling of it all causes my own orgasm to explode.
“Oh Brock,” I call out, my orgasm slapping me around like a rabid tornado.
As our bodies calm, and I’ve milked the last of his release, Brock slumps on top of me quickly before rolling to the side.
“I’ve never…” his words fall away as he tries desperately to catch his breath. “That was…”
I smile at him, turning my head to meet his eyes. “Amazing,” I finish his sentence.