Pretend We're Over (Pretend 2)

I know. And if I’m lucky, I’ll get to fuck him and win the bet at the same time. I’ll get the fantasy husband for one day. I just have to remember it’s a fantasy. In real life, I’ll never get the perfect husband.

15

Sebastian

Watching Millie’s naked body walk away from me and not at least trying to get her into bed was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It takes all of my restraint to not beg her, to not literally get down on my knees to let me fuck her.

Millie Raine is the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. She’s got more confidence than Taylor Swift does when she struts around on stage. Her body is fit and curvy, and I want to grab onto every one of those curves.

Why the hell did I make a bet saying that she would be begging me? I’ll be the one begging. She’s a predator. When she removed her clothes, she knew exactly what she was doing—winning.

I don’t care that she’s winning. I want her to win. I just hope she decides to collect on her prize. I hope she lets me worship her body, taste between her legs. I want it all, and if she won’t let my cock enter her body, I at least want to touch and taste every part she’ll let me.

“You coming?” she yells as she hits the buttons on the jacuzzi, turning it on and leaning over the tub in plain view.

My mouth is dry. I’m at a loss for words. So I don’t answer with my words, I just head out onto the balcony.

She climbs the two stairs leading up to the hot tub.

“Here, let me,” I say, holding my hand out like a gentleman. I’ve been acting nice all day, even though my thoughts have been anything but gentlemanly. They have been dirty, debasing, and needy.

She takes my hand, her eyes practically glowing with victory as she sinks beneath the bubbles. I follow after her. She scoots over; I assume to give me room to sit by her, but I sit opposite her in the tub.

We’ve both teased each other enough. We’re both single. Technically we’re married. We should fuck. There is no reason not to.

“You win,” I say, hoping if I let her win that we can both stop this charade pretending we don’t want to fuck each other and just do it already.

She laughs. “I win, huh? I thought I was going to be begging you for sex?”

“Your body is, your mouth just hasn’t gotten there yet, and I’m an impatient man.”

“If you want to fuck me, why are you sitting way over there?”

“I’m not going to touch you until you tell me to. I’m not asking you to beg. I’m just asking you to tell me it’s what you want.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Not going to do that. Just because you are ready to beg me for sex doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck you.”

“You can’t deny that you want me. I can see your desire in your eyes.”

She bats her eyelashes but doesn’t deny it. She doesn’t confirm she wants me either. The nibble of her teeth on her bottom lip lets me know how twisted up inside she is.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It matters what’s good for me. And fucking you isn’t good for me.”

“It will be very good for you.”

“We’re friends. We are going to be living together for months. I don’t want sex to get in the way.”

“Sex doesn’t have to get in the way.”

“It will, though. It always does.” She looks off in the distance, and I realize she says that because sex has gotten in the way for her in the past. That’s why she’s so hesitant to fuck me now.

“If we don’t fuck, we are always going to wonder. We’ve fucked before, but neither of us remember. We need to fuck so we can remember. So we don’t always wonder what happened between us, we’ll know.”

“We could remember still.”

“Do you remember?”

“No.”