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

never thought a man could arouse such desperate desire in me in a matter of seconds. “More.” My tone is pleading.

He pushes his head deeper and takes all of my pussy into his mouth as though he’s kissing it. Fuck. It’s the most erotic thing that has ever happened to me. A finger slides in, followed by another while Declan’s tongue teases my clit. I raise my hips to meet the thrusts of his fingers.

“Yes, oh yes.” I don’t recognize my voice. A loud groan rises up my throat and fills the whole room.

His tongue flicks my clit, and when it’s too much, I fall back against the wall. I’m so close I feel as if I’m tethering on the edge. His tongue is everywhere. I rock my lips and scream with every touch to my most sensitive bits. I bite down on my lip as an orgasm rocks me over and over again. My body shivers, and I whimper at the strength of emotions that come over me.

Declan swipes my slit one more time as if to clean it up, and he arranges my panties back and pulls down my skirt.

He looks up at me with a grin. “So, what do you think of the granite countertops?”

“I think they’re the best in the market,” I tell him, and he chuckles.

He helps me down, and I don’t fail to notice the tent he’s sporting at the front of his pants.

Chapter 17

Declan

I stir the contents of the pot while Marian dices the tomatoes, and then I wash the lettuce.

“Let me explain what I mean by a buzz. I have a feeling you have no idea what I’m talking about,” she says.

I’m pretty old-fashioned when it comes to social media. As far as I’m concerned, if we make a good product, hire a PR company, people will come, and so far, it has worked in Santa Monica.

“Creating a buzz is creating excitement about something, in this case, the launch of Did you say Pizza?” Marian says.

I love listening to her talk. She’s got a beautiful throaty voice that’s like music to me.

“The launch is a few weeks from now, right?” she asks, and I nod. “The idea is to create something like a countdown. By launch day, everyone is excited about the latest pizza joint on social media. I know you have a PR company, but this is different and long term. Does that make sense?”

“Perfectly,” I say. “But I don’t have time to involve myself in social media.”

“Of course, you don’t. That’s why you’ll need to hire a social media manager,” Marian says.

“Is this the part where you offer to get me one?” I ask and flash her my most winning smile. It works.

“Of course,” she says. “I already have someone in mind.”

I know we’re not real, but I can’t help feeling a flush of pride when I think of Marian as my wife. She’s smart, funny, sexy … the list is endless.

“I’m so excited. That new space is perfect for the pizza shop, and it kind of looks like the Santa Monica one,” Marian says.

“It does,” I tell her. “It’s uncanny how identical the two spaces are.”

With both of us in business, it’s easy to talk to Marian. Not to mention how easy she is on the eyes. Dinner is fun and certainly different than my usual, which is on the fly as I work late.

“What drew you to the pizza business?” Marian asks as she bites and nibbles on some lettuce.

I find myself following the movements of her mouth. “I love cooking, but I didn’t study for it.”

“Why not?”

That’s one conversation I’d like to skip, but I’m in a mellow mood due to the wine we are having with dinner. “Father would have gone ape shit at the thought of a son of his becoming a chef.”

She frowns. “What’s wrong with being a chef?”

“Nothing, but in my father’s world, it’s not a manly profession.” Memories come over me as I remember the day I told my parents that I wanted to be a chef. My father’s face became red with rage, and a torrent of angry, demeaning words had gushed out of his mouth.

I hate that I didn’t fight for what I wanted like Ace usually did. I was the son who always did the right thing. The one who did as his parents wished until I realized what their game was. My parents rewarded good behavior with love and punished bad behavior by withdrawing love.

“That’s crazy,” Marian says. A faraway look comes over her features. “I wasn’t close to my dad at all. He was always working, and when he wasn’t, my mom and I seemed to baffle him.”

“I can imagine your stepmother,” I tell Marian. “She’s serious and stiff and lacks a sense of humor.”

She giggles. “How did you know?”

“Simple,” I tell her. “She’s the opposite of you.”

A soft look comes over her features before it’s quickly replaced by a closed one. The one she wears when she’s backing out.

“Thanks for dinner,” she says. “I’ll wash up.”

“I’ll help,” I tell her cheerfully. There are parts of Marian’s personality that don’t make sense. Like why the thought of intimacy sends her scurrying away like a frightened rabbit.

That ex-husband of hers must have pulled quite a number on her.

We stand side by side at the sink and wash up. I feel her tension easing as I regale her with funny tales from the pizza shop.

“Sort of like the email I got today,” she tells me. “The bride and the groom want me to write to NASA and ask if they can be married in space.”

I laugh. “You love your job, don’t you?”

“Meeting new people all the time, visiting gorgeous venues, then at the end of it, having a massive party and dancing the night away. What’s not to love?” she says.

I burst out laughing. “I might just change careers and become a wedding planner.”

“You’ll make a very handsome one,” she says, and when I turn to look