Best Fake Fiance (Loveless Brothers 2)

Then he pulls back, lets my skirt fall. He gives me one more firm kiss and pulls me away from the counter, spins me, smacks my ass.

“Go,” he orders.

We’re up in the stairs in ten seconds. In fifteen he’s closing his bedroom door quietly, clicking the lock into place, twisting it once.

“See?” he murmurs. “Locked, and I’m pretty sure she hasn’t even opened the lock-picking kit I got her last Christmas.”

He’s to me in three strides and he hasn’t even kissed me when I’m taking his shirt off, desperate to feel his skin on mine.

“Tell me that was a joke,” I ask between kisses, my mouth still pressed against his, and I can feel his smile.

“Fuck yes, it was a joke,” he growls, his hands roaming my back, pulling me closer. His skin is warm against mine, intoxicating, and already I’m pulling at the button on his pants, trying to get them off without looking down.

I yank it. The button finally pops off and I get the zipper down and Daniel groans quietly as his boxer-clad cock springs into my hand, long and thick. His head drops to my shoulder as I stroke him once, twice, hard, root to tip. He’s big, but I’ve seen him in gym shorts before so it’s not a surprise.

I stroke him again and he inhales sharply, kisses me on the neck, puts his lips to my ear.

“Charlie,” he whispers, his fingertips climbing the column of my spine. “How the fuck do you get this dress off?”

I let him go, lift it over my head.

“Oh,” he says, as I reach behind myself, unhook the strapless bra, let it fall to my feet.

For a long moment, he just looks at me. He looks at me like he’s taking notes, like he’s memorizing. His gaze feels like a caress, like a kiss, like some sort of worship and at the same time I take him in: the wide shoulders, the thick arms, the muscled chest, the dusting of light brown hair that thickens at his bellybutton, leads below the band of his boxers, his pants splayed open around his cock.

Then he reaches forward, the backs of his hands against my breasts, pinches my nipples between two fingers, flicks them with his thumbs.

“Oh fuck,” I say, my own hands reflexively going to his wrists as he captures my mouth with his. He pushes me backward and then his bed is there, behind me, and then I’m on my back, Daniel on top of me, my blood rushing through my veins with the pounding, unceasing rhythm yes please, yes please, yes please.

I grab his pants and shove. Somehow, they come off and he’s kneeling between my legs, boxer-clad, one ankle in his hand, resting on his shoulder, the other roaming up my thigh. This time he doesn’t hesitate, but slides his fingers under the thin fabric instantly, his eyes on my face.

I’m soaking wet. I know it. I know my panties are soaked through and I know that Daniel’s fingers are already slick as he runs a thumb over my lips.

I gasp when he finds my clit, reflexively grab the bedsheets and Daniel leans in, my ankle still on his shoulder as he massages it again, the thick pad of his thumb sliding over the sensitive nub with a jolt. His eyes don’t leave my face as he does it again and again, pushing my leg to one side, leaning down, planting himself on one elbow.

Now he’s rubbing me with his soaked fingers, panties shoved to one side. He lowers his head, takes one nipple between his teeth and I grab his hair in one fist, fighting the urge to shout as he moves faster and faster, one of my legs flung over his back.

Suddenly, he stops. He sits up, grabs my panties, yanks them off and I kick, sending them flying into some corner and then we’re both kneeling on his bed, torso to torso, my hand wrapped around his cock.

Not good enough. I reach into his boxers, grab him bare, bring his head down to mine for a deep, hard kiss as I pump him slowly, listen to the noise he makes.

It’s beautiful, a low growl, a note I’ve never heard before. I want to hear it a thousand times, want to feel the vibration of it echo through my own mouth that many times again. His hand is tight on my hip, on my lower back, his fingers leaving divots.

I let him go. The boxers come back and we move until I find myself against the brass bars of his headboard, cool stripes running the length of my back. Daniel’s on his knees and he lifts me, mouth on mine, my legs splayed, until I’m sitting on him.

I’m stroking his cock again. He’s pinching a nipple with one hand and holding onto the bars with the other, pressing me back, pressing me against them. He’s brutal and soft all at once, gentle, teasing, rough.