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

“Exquisite,” I murmur, admiring her hourglass figure.

I gently tug at her hips until she’s angled just right. I grip my steel-hard cock and slide it along the sodden entrance of her pussy. I tease her for a few seconds until she begs me to take her.

I push the head of my cock in, grip her hips, and impale her with one hard thrust. Marian screams.

“Are you okay, babe?” I ask her.

“Yes. More,” she says.

Her words spur me on, and I drive into her hard. Marian rocks her hips in time to my thrusts. I reach around her with one hand to tease her nipples.

“Oh, God. Yes,” Marian says over and over again. “I’m going to come.”

She starts to crumble, clutching at the wall as her pussy clenches around me. I can barely hold on, and when I’m sure that Marian is coming, I let go, and my seed shoots into her pussy.

I wrap my hands around her waist, and she straightens her back and leans against my chest. Marian giggles and I laugh along without knowing what she’s laughing at.

“I’ve never done anything this crazy,” she says.

I look around us, realizing that we had sex in the foyer. “Every time I walk in, I’ll picture you pinned against the wall.”

We both laugh at the image my words paint. I stroke her belly and her breasts softly. “Let’s go to the bathroom,” I tell her.

“Good idea.”

I carry our clothes and follow her up the stairs, enjoying the view of her ass. I love her confidence in her body. Another woman would have been self-conscious to walk buck naked up a flight of stairs. Not Marian. She walks as though she’s on the runway strutting her stuff.

She pauses at the landing. “Did you enjoy the show?” she says over her shoulder.

“I still am,” I throw back, and she laughs.

In the bathroom, we draw the bath as we chat easily as if we’ve been doing this for years. I’ve never been as carefree and comfortable with any other woman. Too bad it can never be anything but a marriage of convenience for us.

“You’re very quiet,” she says, peering at me through the steam.

“I’m thinking about you and wondering where you’ve been all my life.”

She frowns. “Don’t make this into something it’s not, Declan. You’re confusing lust for something else. We’re good at scratching each other’s itches. That’s all.”

Her words hurt a little even though I know she’s right. I lift her foot, place it on my chest, and proceed to massage it. “I’m being honest when I say that. I’m attracted to you in ways that I’ve never been. That doesn’t mean that I’m turning this into something it’s not. Loosen up, Marian. We can have fun while doing it.”

She’s silent as she contemplates my words. “Okay, we can have fun just so long as we remember that at the end of this, we both walk away.”

My chest squeezes. I’ve known Marian for a short time, but the thought of walking away from her is unimaginable.

Chapter 15

Marian

I must be dreaming. I close my eyes tightly, determined to enjoy it to the very end. The strong, firm hands that know their way around a female body caress my breasts. I’m lying on the side facing the wall, and my dream lover is spooning me, with his cock pressing against my ass.

Soft moans fall from my mouth as sharp pleasure floods my body. He rolls a nipple between his fingers. I throw my head back and feel his breath on my neck.

“You smell so sweet.”

My eyes pop open. At the realization that the hands that are on me are real, I smile, still half asleep. Declan. Secure in the knowledge that the dream will not end abruptly, I press my ass against his cock.

He groans and murmurs more sweet words. His cock slips between my legs, and holding it, he nudges it into my slick folds. Arousal juices gush out as he rocks his cock against my folds.

“I want you, Declan,” I say, unable to hold back. I’m more than ready for him. My body aches for him with an intensity that rises with every second.

I feel his thick, steel-hard cock pushing against my folds, and slowly they give way, and he enters me, inch by inch. I move back against him as he fills me up completely. He places his hands on my waist, holding me in place as he rocks, first at an almost frustratingly slow speed, then increasing it at my urging.

Whimpers fill the room as I feel myself tethering on the edge.

“Declan,” I call his name over and over again, overwhelmed by the heights of passion that he pushes me to.

My orgasm tears through me so powerfully that I have to grip the headboard with one hand to keep it in place. Declan’s orgasm syncs with mine, and as waves of pleasure roll through me, he grunts, and hot liquid gushes into me.

We drift off to sleep, and the next time I wake up, it’s to the sound of my alarm blaring.

“I’ll get it,” Declan says.

I smile at the soreness between my legs. Declan throws a hand around my waist and pulls me close. I turn around and snuggle in his wide, hard chest. He makes me feel safe and loved. An illusion, I know, but I’ll take it for now.

Another softer alarm rents the air, and Declan grabs my phone and hands it to me. I read the message on the screen.

“You’re now ovulating,” Declan reads, and my face heats up.

It’s six a.m., and I’m glad that he can’t see my face. I should have turned off the notifications when I downloaded the fertility tracking app. How embarrassing.

“What’s that?” Declan says.

I explain it to him in as few words as I can manage.

“Oh,” he says when I finish talking. The change is subtle, but I feel it. He becomes restless. “This baby maker had better get up,” he