My Fake Husband by Black, L. (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

thrusts, letting me ride his hand. I’m gasping, panting, whimpering for him. Begging him for more.

He impales me with two fingers while he catches my nipple in his mouth and sucks, dragging his teeth lightly along the tip until I come, shaking and clinging to him in the confines of his truck cab.

Then he’s on top of me, letting me pull down his shorts, telling me it’s okay, I can touch him wherever I want. I’ve wanted this so long that I think I may pass out. I’m hyperventilating. I ask him to kiss me, and he does, a slow, sensual kiss full of promise. My breath heaves in and out. I kiss him back, desperate. My hands flatten on his muscular back, and I bury my head in his neck as he nudges my thighs open, notches his cock at the slit of my sex.

“Please,” I whisper to him. “Please, Damon.”

When I beg, he kisses my shoulder and drives into me in one deep thrust. He goes so much deeper than I could have imagined, his cock so big and brutal, but tender and impossibly sexy at the same time. I feel myself open for him, and I part my legs more just to hold all of him. I like it so much that I start telling him every dirty thing I’m thinking. Then I’m coming again, unbelievably fast and clenching around him, throwing my head back. I can feel a whisper of cool spray from the falls waft in the open window and mist my heated skin. I hold on to him so hard, and I know I can’t do anything but let the frightening pulse of ecstasy take me over, make me thrash and whine as I climax.

When he feels me start to come, Damon grips my hip and drives in harder, deeper, taking all of me, burning away any memory I had of any man before him. I watch his face, the concentration, the way his lips are drawn back over his teeth, the primal way he leans his forehead against mine. “You can let go,” I tell him. Then he does, he lets go and comes with a fierce burst of heat inside me. I arch my back, greedy for it. Our stomachs touch, our chests, his hand on my hip and his forehead on mine. Then he kisses me, frantic and lush. My arms go around his neck and we hold each other, messy and sweaty and spent. He rolls onto his back and maneuvers me so I can lie on top of him, in his arms. I pillow my cheek on his chest and drift off to sleep in the sweet, summer heat.

When the fantasy is over, and I’ve come down from my climax, I add an item to my list of things to do. Talk to rat bastard landlord about purchasing the building. Hire plumber. Schedule wedding. Apply for loan. Quit masturbating about future husband.

8 Damon

“I thought I came over for chicken and noodles, not for you to give me hell,” I said.

“Come on,” my sister laughed, “you opened yourself up for this one. It’s like you’re begging to be teased.”

“I am not asking to be teased. I’m doing a favor for a friend of the family. Mom, back me up here. You and Mrs. Owens have been best friends for years. So we’re practically family.”

“If you want me to support the intermarriage of family, you’re barking up the wrong tree, son,” she said, dishing up supper.

“That’s not what I meant. You know, I really thought my family would be supportive of this. I know it’s a weird way to get married, and it’s not a real marriage anyway. It’s to get her collateral so she can buy her shop and get it fixed up. It’s really an indictment of the banking system in our country that would rather lend money to a married woman than a single one.”

“You’re a feminist now, bro?” Laura chuckled.

“I’m in favor of equal treatment, yes.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t let that girl on your baseball team last year?” my dad chimed in.

“Thanks, Dad. So helpful. And, no, I didn’t think it was safe or appropriate for her to be the only girl on a bus full of prepubescent boys, and when I suggested her mom drive her to the games, they started talking about discrimination. It was a problem. Thankfully, Brody found her that girls’ travel team out of Overton and got her a tryout.”

“So your fit about women’s rights is a new thing,” Laura said, “that maybe has something to do with how you look at Trixie and always have. Don’t think we haven’t seen the way you stare at her whenever she walks into a room. Last Fourth of July at the Owens’ house, I thought you were gonna fall out of your lawn chair when she brought out the potato salad in her bathing suit.”

“She was wearing shorts with it,” I muttered.

“Yeah, you remember a lot of details for a guy who wasn’t looking,” Laura teased. “So don’t pretend this is a totally generous impulse with nothing in it for you.”

“There is nothing romantic about this,” I protested and started shoveling in noodles in order to stop the conversation.

“You know, my wife is right,” Brody said, “You just overshot a little. I told you to go ahead and ask the girl out. Not marry her.”

I rolled my eyes and took another big bite, not loving this topic of discussion around the dinner table. It annoyed me that there was truth to what they were saying. I kind of wondered what I’d gotten myself into, and if I was signing up for heartbreak and pining over my wife, who would be right there in my house but just out of reach.

9 Trixie

It only took a week to make arrangements and get a license. My family thought it was nuts, and Damon’s family made it pretty clear with their jokes