Faking It For Mr Right

Her eyes go wide when they meet mine. “Xander…”

“Ah, ah. Quiet, Mel.” I wink again, and her cheeks flare red hot. But she doesn’t protest again, too nervous about us getting caught, I’m sure. I part her thighs with one hand and trail my tongue along the supple muscles of her upper thighs. Tasting her, savoring her smooth, velvety softness. Finally, I let my tongue wander higher, until it traces along the top of her mound. She’s freshly shaven, and when I bend to dip my tongue between her thighs, running it over the outer folds of her pussy lips, she quivers again.

I can feel the stubble on my cheeks brush against her sensitive inner thighs. Her hands find the back of my head and her fingers lace through my hair, clenching tight. I tighten my hold on her ass with both hands, to brace against her, hold her in place. Already, I can feel her upper body leaning back against the wall, her shoulders going weak. I just hope her knees aren’t next. I’ve barely even started.

Then again. I grin against her, my mouth pressed over her pussy as my tongue delves into her slit. Getting caught like this wouldn’t be the worst thing. It would certainly mark Melanie to the world as mine. And frankly, I’m sure an extra large tip to the right store managers would be all that was needed to ease any concerns they had about our activities in here.

Besides, there’s something hot about the thought. About having anyone else out there see what I’m doing to Melanie, see how she’s reacting to me, and knowing that this woman belongs to me.

Whether or not it’s temporary. Whether or not it’s all for show, a business arrangement… that doesn’t matter. Right here, right now? I want her. And I have her.

I curl my tongue and press it inside her entrance, slowly, an inch at a time. She groans, then bites her lip. I keep my gaze fixed upward, on her face, studying her every reaction as I draw my tongue out, press it back in again.

God, I could watch her face all damn day. Especially when she looks like this, her eyes half-hooded with desire, her mouth tightly clamped over the moans I’m sure she wishes she could let loose.

With a wicked smile, I start to lick her harder, faster. I flatten my tongue and lap along her slit, the blade of it crossing her clit again and again, until her hips buck up off the wall of their own accord. Soon she’s rocking against me, her breath coming hard and fast, her hands so tightly clasped in my hair that it’s a wonder she’s able to keep herself upright. I bury my face between her thighs, savoring the taste of her pussy, the hot, sweet juices that drip over my tongue, trace down my chin.

I pull back just far enough to grin at her. She gasps in protests, her eyes going wide, trying to drag my face back toward her pussy. But I grip her hips, stop her from moving.

“God, I love how fucking wet you get for me, dirty girl,” I whisper. She shivers, a full-body motion, and then I’m licking her again, harder this time, faster. Before long, she’s trembling on the edge of orgasm, and I moan with my lips clamped tight around her pussy, so she can feel the vibration through every inch of her body.

She lets go of my hair with one hand, reaches up to bite down on her finger as she comes with a faint whimper, her whole body shaking. Her knees go weak, but I catch her before she can fall, bracing her hips back against the wall, holding her there.

I lean back and let her dress fall back into place as her breathing slows and she slowly gets her trembling legs back under control. But I don’t stand back up. Not yet.

Instead, I reach into my back pocket. I slide out the little box I procured earlier, while Melanie was distracted with the first few racks of dresses we perused. After we’d paid a quick visit through the jewelry department, and I’d noticed what caught her eye again and again, even though she’d tried to pretend it hadn’t.

With my eyes fixed on hers, I pop the lid to the ring box and hold it up.

Her lips part with shock. “Is that…?”

“You liked this one, didn’t you?” I ask. I hold out a palm, reaching for her left hand.

But she hesitates. Bites her lower lip again, in a move that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know kills me every time. “But…” Her gaze travels over the ring nestled in the little blue bed of the box. It’s an oversize princess cut diamond, surrounded by smaller sapphires to either side and along the white gold band. It’s beautiful. Watching her notice it, and seeing how she kept glancing back at it, unable to resist, told me she had good taste. It took a good eye, an artist’s eye, to pick this out of the ring case, among so many others.