His Fake Fiancee: BBW Romance (Fake it For Me)

“No pain here, good girl.”

Her eyes glow with the pleasure my words give her. I am aware she is surprised by her desire to please, to be controlled. It is incredibly erotic how she gives herself up to the need, to me. I am honored by her trust in me. I cannot deny my need to suck deep on the soft skin of her ear.

A moan from deep within her chest escapes her as I allow my hands to trail down her body, unable to stop from inspecting the marks I have left on her body as I do. Her breath comes in sharp little pants as I draw within inches of her delicious pussy.

Bare, not at all what I expected, and so fucking sexy. I trace over her reddened mound beneath my fingertips. I do not take my eyes off her, determined to detect if pain lingers within her. Her hips tilt up as she whimpers my name.

“I see it, love, your pussy dripping down your inner thighs. Such a waste.” I edge her legs wider apart. Swollen, thick, her folds hide the most drool-worthy pussy I have ever tasted. Hours, I could feast on her for hours, soon.

Running a finger along her lower lips, my mouth fills with greedy need to taste her. Her body is trembling as I sink my middle finger into her. Hot, so fucking hot, and so damn tight.

Yesterday, the plan had been to fuck her until she was sore. I never envisioned spending hours inside her. Yet I simply could not bear to pull out of her. Deliciously tight, my cock felt at home in her, and I could not leave her. Closing my eyes tight, I’m fighting every cell in my body to not bend her over and bury my cock deep.

“Ivan,” she whispers in a singsong voice, teasing me. Smiling, knowing what she does to me. “Eyes open.”

Brat. I nip at the edge of her ear. Her eyes glow in response. I push another finger into her, she chokes at how deep they go. Thank fucking god there is not a single flicker of pain in her eyes or her body. Not so quick, Ivan.

Turning my hand, I search out that precious tender spot I had caressed often yesterday. All it brings is a gasp of need, no pain. I lick the soft flesh where her shoulder meets her neck, caressing the spot as I do.

“What a good girl you are. Now you will get the reward you have been panting for. A sweet little orgasm before the main course of fucking you until you scream my name.”

Firm pressure has her coming apart in only seconds. I catch her as she falls. Swinging her up into my arms, I walk her to bed. Tempering my hunger is not easy, but I refuse to lose control as I did yesterday.

I can give pleasure without being rough, without causing her pain. Rough and painful has its place, and as much as she enjoys it, I will give it to her in the future. Just not tonight, not this time. I lay awake for hours last night, holding her, imagining this.

I have given up figuring out what it is about her that makes her so different. It does not matter. All that matters is that she is. Not every question has an answer.

15

Christina

Inhaling my second cup of coffee, I now understand the appeal of cocaine. Ivan kept me up late last night, again. The really annoying thing is, I don’t resent it at all. The man is addictive. I cannot get enough of him. The only thing I kind of resent is how well he functions on only a few hours of sleep. He’s always up before me, leaving me to sleep until the last minute.

I love the way he wakes me up with soft kisses, then hands me my coffee to get me m

oving, my shower is running, and he doesn’t tease me or give me a hard time for being a little slower or cranky in the morning. Besides waking up in his arms, I can’t think of a better way of starting my morning.

Another yawn overtakes me, I’m glad it’s Friday. I bring up Ivan’s calendar for the day. “What’s this at noon? Ivan and me out for two hours?” I ask Tim.

“I love how little conversation you two have. He said it was a shopping trip, if I needed to reach out to him that I could.”

Rolling my eyes, I sigh. We do so much talking sometimes I wonder how Ivan keeps track of every minute detail he draws out of me. Once we even had the conversation, the normal one every couple should have, but with Ivan it felt like walking through a landmine. I was happy crying like an idiot over a video Anna sent me about a baby having glasses put on for the first time, how happy she looked to see her mom. Ivan stared intently at me.

“You want children.” As he does so often, it was a question that wasn’t a question.

Shrugging, I nodded. It took a while to work up the nerve. “And you?”

“I rather feel like I have already done it.”

I was confused.

“With Gemma and Hannah, I was their primary caretaker. I fed them, changed them, got up with them in the middle of the night. When they got older, I helped them with their homework and worried about buying them shoes. It was immensely stressful. The desire to procreate is not something I have experienced.”

Did he see the agony I felt at his answer?

“I am not saying no to the idea. I am simply saying I have not experienced the desire for children myself.”

So it wasn’t a no. When he pulled me into his arms, I went freely, with hope.