My Fake Husband by Black, L. (motivational novels TXT) 📕

She stroked me with her hand, tucked my cock back into my jeans and zipped me up with such a sly caress that it made me half-hard again already. I cupped her sex with my bare hand, stroking through the slick mess of our lovemaking, dipping my fingers inside her and loving the sensation of her milking my fingers, bearing down on them, rocking onto my hand wantonly. I loved that she wanted me so much, that she liked sex with me that much. I thumbed her clit and in no time, she came again, a high, desperate cry and then the shock of her gushing on my hand.

“That felt amazing. It was so—primal. Your hand in me, being in your lap—damn,” she was trembling and I was gazing at her, feeling like a king.

“Take me home,” she said again. “I wanna see if you can do that again.”

“I bet I can,” I said, kissing her, sucking on her lips, barely able to drag myself away from her body long enough to drive home.

Every night she was in my bed. Every morning I made breakfast for us and we ate together, even if it was just a quick piece of toast and coffee. As long as we were together, and got to see each other, that was what counted.

One morning she had sat down on my lap as I tied my boots. “Let’s play hooky,” she said. “I was a good girl in school. I never skipped class. Let’s do it today.”

“What, Senior Skip Day, fifteen years late?” I teased.

“Are you gonna be naughty with me or not?” she asked, arms looped around my neck.

“Hell yes. Anywhere and all the time, baby,” I said. I messaged the chief that I thought I was coming down with something. She called her full-time manager and told her to open the shop, and that she could close at noon and take the rest of the day off.

That day, my God, we took a bubble bath together and we tried to pick out a rug for the living room online but ended up watching stupid TikTok videos and laughing at them. We made taco soup for lunch and then forgot about it because I bent her over the table and had her from behind until she nearly blacked out from coming so many times. Then we had an afternoon nap in each other’s arms. I never wanted to be anywhere else.

Around four, she got a call from somebody who’d heard she might rent the apartment over her shop. I agreed to help her clean it out over the weekend so she could have another income stream coming in. She insisted on whipping out the calculator app and doing some math on how that would affect her budget and payments. When she wanted to discuss insurance policies for having a tenant, I had to suck on her nipple until she got back in the Skip Day frame of mind. By the time she’d had an orgasm in my mouth, her thighs were gripping my face as she ground against my lips and tongue, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I am crazy about you, Trixie Vance,” I said, kissing her stomach. “I’m glad you wear my ring.”

“Me too,” she said a little shyly. I couldn’t help noticing that every time I said something about feelings, tried to tell her how special she was to me, she kind of brushed it off, didn’t say much. If that meant she wasn’t into me romantically, I would have to accept that down the road. But for now, I’d take what I could get and enjoy the hell out of it.

I was pretty damn happily married. Coming home early with a bottle of wine, kissing my wife, having dinner together, having a shower together. Waking up with her in my arms every day. So when she said she was going to Kiera’s for the weekend, part of me was selfish and wanted to ask her to stay. Sure, I had to work Saturday, and I knew she missed her sister. But sleeping alone seemed bleak and lonesome and cold.

“Do you want me to take off Saturday? I could drive you,” I offered.

“I can drive, you know,” she teased.

“I’ll miss you, okay,” I said almost grudgingly.

“Are you saying you’re completely spoiled?” she asked.

“Yes,” I pulled her into my arms. “I am spoiled and greedy.”

“You can go to your mom’s for supper. She’ll love it.”

“We were just over there Wednesday night,” I said. “She’ll tell me I’m an idiot for letting you out of my sight.”

“Do you think I’m going to use my married sister as a wingman and go pick up a guy? We’re going out, but just for fun and to get her a break and some girl time. You and I have a deal. I’m just going to hang out with Kiera.”

“I know that, and I trust you. I’ll still wish you were here,” I said, feeling foolish. “I know that’s lame.”

“It’s not lame. I’ll see you Sunday night,” she kissed my cheek and she was off. Without me.

All day Saturday on my shift, I kept checking my phone. She’d texted once, a selfie of her and her sister at a craft store with the caption ‘wild girls weekend,’ but that was it. I was missing her. I convinced Brody to go out for a drink after work. I could use some guy time after all.

“You’re such a sad sack. Your wife goes to Savannah for a couple days and you need me to babysit you,” he said, taking a drink of his beer.

“No. I just thought we could use some guy time.”

“That’s not a phrase. Don’t use those words. It sounds stupid,” he said gruffly.

“You’re too sensitive.”

“I’m too sensitive? You dragged me to a bar so you could whine about missing your wife,” he said.

“I didn’t notice your ass kicking and screaming when I asked if