Best Fake Fiance (Loveless Brothers 2)

Charlie just nods. She’s got her forehead against mine, eyes closed, hands on my shoulders, the curls slipping from her bun, wild around our heads.

She moves faster. She grinds her hips against me while I’m buried deep inside her, rises onto her knees, plunges back down with an exhale that’s half-sigh, half-moan.

“That good?” she whispers, breathless. She does it again, pulling me all the way out and then sinking me deep into her slowly, deliberately. My fingers dig deeper into her hips with every stroke.

“Fuck yes,” I gasp. “Jesus, Charlie, this is perfect.”

She moves faster, harder. She grinds against me with every stroke, her eyelids fluttering as she moans and I move inside her, watching her face. We do it again and again until with every single thrust I’m hitting that spot inside her, the one that makes a breathy little oh come out of her mouth.

Finally, I let go of her hips, slide my hands up to her nipples again. We’re moving faster now, in a furious, desperate rhythm, and when I pinch both her nipples at once, Charlie lifts her head, leans it back, moans explosively.

“Lean back,” I tell her.

She looks at me, wild and breathless.

“I want to watch your tits bounce while you ride my cock,” I say, and Charlie gives me a slow, saucy smile.

“I didn’t know you’d talk this dirty,” she says, anchoring one hand and then the other on my thigh, arching backward.

I pull her back down my cock, and I can feel the jolt inside her body as I do, and she makes that oh noise again but it’s deeper, guttural.

“I didn’t know you’d fuck like this,” I say, and I’m trying to tease her but the words come out, ragged, breathless as our bodies come together again and I’m buried in her and she’s moaning, clenching, and I can barely take it.

Charlie doesn’t talk any more. She rides me faster, harder, her small breasts bouncing with every stroke, her glorious body on full display. I’ve got a perfect view of my cock disappearing into her over and over again, our bodies meeting roughly, savagely.

I find her clit again with my thumb, circle it slowly, in time with her movement and I’m rewarded by a long, low moan, her walls clamping tighter around me. I clench my teeth and gasp, self-control hanging by a thread.

“Daniel, I’m gonna come again,” she says, her voice a whisper, a moan. “Make me— oh fuck—"

I pull her down hard, slam myself into her as hard as I can. I see stars. The air feels like thorns against my skin.

“—oh fuck oh please Jesus Daniel—”

I do it again and again. I think the ceiling is cracking.

“—so fucking good Charlie—”

“—oh God oh God please, please, please—"

Charlie comes like an earthquake, shaking and trembling and rattling, her head thrown back and her fingers digging into my legs. My vision goes white as she clenches around me but doesn’t stop riding, my thumb still on her clit, taking me in long, hard strokes.

I’m two seconds behind her. I’m a fucking feral animal, grabbing at her, hauling her in with all my might, coming and coming and burying myself in her and wanting to never surface.

I come so hard I forget where I am. I come so hard I forget who I am and only come to with my face in her neck, my arms around her. We’re both panting for breath, both sweaty, hard to tell where I end and she begins.

I lift my face and kiss her. She’s trembling. She pulls back, laughing softly, shakes her arms out, wraps them around me again. After another minute we manage to unwind from each other and Charlie collapses to the couch, limbs akimbo, a droplet of sweat slowly making its way down the hollow between her breasts.

I reach out and trace it with my thumb.

“Next time I’ll turn the AC up,” she says, flinging one leg over mine.

“I think I busted a nut,” I say. “Now I feel like I truly understand that saying.”

“That’s your pillow talk?” she teases, grinning. “We have the best sex of your life and afterward you want to talk about busting nuts?”

I slump further down on the couch, stroking her thigh. It feels like it’s a million degrees in here all of a sudden, and I’m pretty sure I’m also very sweaty.

I also think I might just melt into this couch out of sheer satisfaction, even though I know I’ve got about five minutes before I need to leave so I can be at Rusty’s ballet class at a respectable time.

“Presumptuous,” I say.

“Is it?” she muses.

“I didn’t say it was wrong,” I admit. “Just presumptuous.”

Charlie laughs, puts her arm through mine, leans against my shoulder.

“This is good,” she says. “Whatever it is.”

“I think we’re dating,” I say. “Is this dating?”