One Hot Fake: An Accidental Fake Marriage Romance by Sarah Brooks (nice books to read .TXT) 📕

herself over my cock and then lowers herself on it. She closes her eyes as my cock disappears in her sweet heat. A groan tumbles out of my mouth as her pussy walls clamp around my cock.

“Oh God,” Marian says when my cock is completely buried inside.

“How does that feel, babe?” I ask her.

“I feel ... full,” she says, her words coming out like a moan.

I caress her ass as she rocks her hips against mine. I match my rhythm with hers, and when we come, it’s too fast and too powerful. Marian collapses on top of me when the contractions are over, and I wrap my hands around her protectively.

I’m glad she came looking for me.

Chapter 11

Marian

Declan’s breathing is deep and even. We lie spooned with his hand draped over my waist. Darkness has set in, and I’m guessing it’s just about seven. I can’t count how many times we’ve had sex.

“Are you asleep?” I ask him.

“No, was about to,” Declan says sleepily.

“Sorry to wake you up,” I say. “But I need to go home.”

Before he can respond, his phone buzzes from somewhere on the floor. Declan curses under his breath, turns around, and pulls something, probably his trousers.

“Hello, Mom,” he says.

His mom must be a talker because he’s quiet for a very long time.

“It’s true, Mom.”

Declan sounds so different. So quiet, unlike the Declan I know, and it makes me curious about this woman that can cause such a change in his personality.

“That was my mother,” he says when he disconnects the call. “She knows about us.”

“Did she scold you?” I ask, propping myself on my elbow to look at him.

“My mom doesn’t scold,” Declan says. “Anyway, she wants us to go for lunch on Saturday. I figured it’s a good time as any for you to meet.”

“I can’t make it on Saturday. I have a wedding,” I tell Declan.

He frowns. “Is there no one who can cover for you?”

I sit up in bed and pull the covers up to my chest, suddenly conscious of my nakedness. “No.” Anger flares up as fast as if someone has poured gasoline on dry grass and struck a match to it.

“What about Sunday? Surely you don’t work on Sundays too,” he says.

I do work on some Sundays depending on if I have an event. I bite down a retort. “Sunday will work.”

This right here is why a real relationship would not work for me. I love my business, and I’ve worked damn hard to get it to where it is now. I hate the idea of someone coming in and dictating to me how I should spend my time.

Declan calls his mother again, and from what I make out, they agree on Sunday.

“I have to go,” I say, getting up.

“Oh,” Declan says. “I thought you’d spend the night, and we can drive down together tomorrow morning.”

“No.” I read somewhere that the word ‘no’ is in itself a complete sentence and an adequate explanation.

I feel Declan’s gaze piercing my back. I don’t bother with a shower. I have an overwhelming need to leave.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Declan says.

I’m about to say no thank you, but I bite back the words.

We dress without speaking, and in minutes, we’re walking back to the parking space. The air is tinged with salt and the sounds of the waves crashing on the sand reach my ears. Santa Monica is a wonderful place to live.

“I’ll probably see you tomorrow,” Declan says.

“Sure,” I tell him as I unlock the car. I’m in a rush to leave, and with a wave, I put the car into gear and peel out of the parking lot.

I try to remember how it had been when Leonard and I were married. Have I always been that awful at relationships, even fake ones? Thinking about that period in my life brings all sorts of bad memories.

The five years that Leonard and I were married were the worst of my life. Years I’d like to forget. It was good at first. Leonard and I had gone to school together, but we only hooked up after I went back home for a visit after college.

The plan had been to vacation at home and then join Marvin and Jason in LA, where our new exciting lives were about to begin. It didn’t quite work out like that.

Leonard had been our town’s bad boy. You know, the one who goes to juvenile court before he’s sixteen years old, the one who all parents tell their kids to stay away from. That was Leonard. I’d admired him from a distance, but like all good girls, I’d stayed away from him.

When I returned from college, I found a reformed Leonard. He had completely turned around from his bad-boy ways, and he seemed to have matured overnight. He even had a job at the candle-making factory as the assistant manager.

Arlen is a small town, and it wasn’t long before Leonard and I met at the local pub. The first thing I noticed was that his friends were drinking beer while he was drinking water. Then his eyes. He had piercing blue eyes that made me tremble when our gazes met.

I was with a group of my high school friends, and after an hour of exchanging sultry looks, he sauntered over and pulled up a chair next to me.

“I heard you were back,” he’d said, his eyes boring into my soul.

My phone vibrates, jolting me back to the present. The timing is perfect as I’m taking the turn onto Pine Place. I park the car in the drive, kill the engine and reach for my phone.

The missed call is from my mother. My heart skips a beat. It is rare for my mother to call unless she has something important to say. She has a very vibrant social life back in Arlen. One of the happiest days of her life was when I left home for good.

I hit call, and she answers on the first ring.

“My busy entrepreneurial