14. Brent
Brent
We’re barely in the hotel room before Posey’s lips are seeking mine.
The door clicks shut behind us, and I press her against the wall while I deepen the kiss.
Her lips are an addiction. After I kissed her on the dance floor, I couldn’t stop for the rest of the night.
She might have assumed the make-out sessions were for Val’s benefit, but as far as I was concerned, they were foreplay for this.
Her, pressed up against a wall, my erection straining my dress pants, begging to find some way inside her.
I slide my hands under her dress and along her ass to prop her against the wall, and her legs circle my waist. She grinds against me, and I’m about to be the world’s worst lover.
“Do you have something?” she says. “I want you to fuck me against the wall.”
I brace her with one arm while I root around in my pocket with my other hand. I hold up the condom, and she snatches it from me before ripping it with her teeth.
Holy mother of god. Sexy as fuck.
She reaches between us, and she’s got my pants undone and the condom on in record time.
When I slide her thong to the side, her wetness is gratifying.
I wasn’t the only one on the brink of losing it in the ballroom.
I ease into her, and I have to hold still for a beat while I collect myself. She feels fucking amazing.
She arches her back and lets out a moan. “This is all I could think about for hours.”
“Can you come like this?” I ask while I try to keep a handle on my eagerness.
“A little to the right, and hold me tight, and yeah, I can get there.” She kisses me and runs her fingers through my hair.
I make the adjustment, and she lets out a whimper. “Yes?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, and she kisses me deeply. “So much yes.”
Everything in me is screaming to go fast, but I’ve already learned she needs slow and steady for the climb and fast to tip her over.
I rock into her while I kiss her neck, and she breathes heavy in my ear.
When her breath hitches, I know what’s coming next, and before she can say anything, I increase the speed a touch.
“Jesus, you’re good,” she gasps, and she clutches the back of my head.
I swallow her cries of pleasure with a kiss, and then, as she’s still riding her wave, I come hard and fast behind her.
Posey crawls across the bed toward me, still naked from our second round of the sex Olympics—her phrasing, not mine. One of the only places in my life where I’m content to let someone finish ahead of me is in bed.
She collapses on top of me with a sigh. “Tell me about this fake relationship business.”
“Two orgasms and I’ve already convinced you? Geez. You’re easy.”
“Two orgasms, neither of which I had to fake, is making me contemplate what I am willing to pretend. I’m not sold on the relationship product, but I’m now browsing the store.”
“You know, it might be an opportunity for you to practice having a boyfriend. A chance to slay those old demons in a situation that doesn’t count for much.”
“I am now exiting the store because it reeks of desperation. That is not how you convince me.”
“You’d be a good girlfriend.”
“That’s a no-brainer. I’m good at everything.”
Her airy response makes me laugh. “It’d probably be a shitty job for you with my schedule. Maybe I haven’t thought this through very well.”
“You do realize how convincing works, right?” She crosses her arms over my chest and stares at me.
“That’s what the orgasms were for. That’s my main argument. Incredible sex.”
She taps her lips and then purses them. “I think you’re confusing main argument with only argument.”
“You drink coffee, right?”
“Lattes.”
“Of course.”
“Convincing also doesn’t mean mocking my beverage of choice.”
“Every morning when my practice is done, I’ll deliver a coffee to wherever you are—in class, in bed, wherever you want.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “If I’m to agree to lattes and orgasms, we’ll need some ground rules.”
“Sounds like something you’d want.”
“It’s for your protection.”
“You’re worried about me? Baby, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I don’t catch feelings. Once I’m in training mode, the only thing on my mind is swimming.”
“Social media. I’m not posting anything about our fake relationship. We can trick Val, but I draw the line at sucking anyone I might know into this.”
“Suits me. I won’t post anything either.” Basically my mantra now. I only use my socials if some endorsement or FINA ask me to.
“What exactly do you want from me then?” she asks. “Am I your penis guard? Not a full bodyguard. I’m just hanging around to make sure your appendage doesn’t get out of control.”
“Right. Yeah. No wayward dicks allowed.” I let out a grunt. “Sometimes it detaches itself from my body and runs all over the place. No manners. No sense of what sorts of holes it should be hiding in. Completely disrespectful.”
Posey laughs and rolls off me to stare at the ceiling. “Oh my god. The imagery.”
I turn onto my stomach and rest my cheek on my crossed arms. “In all seriousness, I need someone to hang out with me during the little downtime I have. That’s it. Keep me and my wayward dick on the straight and narrow.”
“I’m okay with straight, but I do like a bit of girth.”
“Are you so commitment phobic you can’t even agree to a fake relationship?”
“Bingo,” she says, and she points her finger at me. “I’m breaking out in hives at the thought.” She examines her arm.
“You want me to pinky swear I won’t catch feelings? Cause I’ll do it.”
“You’re that sure it won’t happen?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now I’m kind of offended.”
I let out a huff, and she laughs. She rotates onto her side to face me, and she traces a line along my back with her fingertip.
“I promise it’ll be a fun couple weeks with lots of lattes and orgasms. At the end of it, we’ll shake hands and go our separate ways.
” While I might question whether I can keep my promise when we’re lying here next to each other and she’s charming my pants off, once we’re back on campus, real life will resume.
My vow to keep any tricky feelings at bay will be easy then.
Posey scans my face, and there’s something brewing behind her brown eyes.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “You?” There’s never been time to get to know someone well enough to love them. My cabinet full of swimming medals and trophies is my first and only love.
“No.” She thrusts her pinky finger toward me. “We swear to be heart-of-stone assholes who have great sex and drink a lot of lattes. Heart of stone, Faulkner.”
“I’m offended you think I’m the soft one here.” I grab her pinky finger with mine, and when our gazes connect, warmth spreads across my chest. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a prettier sight than Posey Jensen naked in my bed with her pinky finger linked with mine.
Shit.
She’s right. I am the soft one.