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

slow sweet love to her. I shut her up by kissing her, exploring her mouth like it’s the first time we’re kissing. She smells so sweet, my Marian. Soon she’s moaning and pleading with me to take her.

I get between her legs and tease her with the tip of my cock in the way that I know drives her crazy.

“Declan, please,” she says between gritted teeth.

I chuckle. I love Marian like this. Aroused and ready to battle for my cock. I bury my cock into her pussy inch by inch. She lifts her hips, and I drawback.

“If you don’t behave yourself, it’s not going to happen,” I tell her.

“What do you need me to do?” Marian asks, her voice breathless.

“Be still, woman,”

“I can’t make that kind of a promise,” Marian says, throwing back my words at me.

I chuckle as I press my cock into her again. I close my eyes as her pussy walls close in around my cock, milking it with every squeeze.

“I don’t know if I can hold it together,” I groan.

“Oh yes, you can,” Marian says.

I can, especially if my woman commands me to. I distract myself as pleasure threatens to swallow me alive.

“You’re so sweet; you know that?”

“Thanks,” Marian says, tears filling her eyes.

‘Don’t cry; this is a happy moment,” I tell her as I pump my cock into her.

“Tears of pleasure,” she says.

“That’s allowed.”

Our lovemaking is different today. We connect on a level that we’ve not reached before. Marian’s cries are sweeter and her orgasm more intense. I keep mine at bay until I’m sure that she’s utterly satisfied. Only then do I allow myself to spill my seed into her sweet body.

I’m glad that it’s Sunday, and we have no plans for the day other than to laze around the house. Eight-thirty finds us still in bed, alternating between waking up and dozing.

Marian’s stomach rumbles. “That’s a sign that we do need to get up. I’ll make breakfast.”

She slips on my shirt and buttons it. She’s a walking temptation with her creamy thighs exposed like that. “Are you coming?” she calls over her shoulder as she pads out of the room.

“I’m right behind you,” I tell her. I stay behind to fix the bed and throw the windows open. I pop into the bathroom to freshen up and then follow Marian downstairs, clad only in my boxer briefs.

“Something smells good,” I say when the scent of bacon and eggs hits me as I enter the kitchen.

Marian turns and flashes me a smile. “First, breakfast, then we’ll go for a walk around my neighborhood.”

“Good idea,” I tell her. “We haven’t done that here.”

“Don’t get your hopes up with regards to the view. There’s no ocean and no beach, but there’s a hiking trail that goes up the hills,” Marian says.

“Sounds good.” I like hiking and running, and anything that involves exercise.

Marian serves us bacon, eggs, and coffee, and when we’re done, I know that I’ve overeaten. That walk is welcome. I clean up while Marian gets ready. Afterward, I go back upstairs and hunt for a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

I slip on a pair of sunglasses and meet Marian downstairs. She hands me a bottle of water.

“You look hot.” Just looking at her clad in a pair of denim shorts and a sleeveless top sends my senses reeling.

“Thanks,” she says, her eyes hidden by sunglasses.

“I love you, Marian Stevens,” I tell her and take her hand. I’m not expecting a response, but I still feel a flicker of disappointment.

Outside, the weather is perfect for a walk. The sun is out and warm, but not so hot as to burn the skin. The sky is a perfect hue of blue with a single blemish.

“Days like this make me glad to be alive,” I tell Marian.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” she says. “Despite everything, it’s still a beautiful world.”

“It is.”

“Do you know your neighbors?” I ask her as we leave the neighborhood and head toward the woods.

Marian shakes her head. “It’s not that kind of place. People keep pretty much to themselves. What about you? Do you know your neighbors in Santa Monica?”

“Pretty much,” I tell her. “There’s the couple that lives in the apartment below mine. Peter and Jill. They’re recluses. They never leave that apartment.”

“Not even to walk on the beach?” Marian asks.

“Not even to stand on their balcony,” I tell her. A bit of an exaggeration since I’m rarely home myself.

“I wonder what they do in there?” Marian says.

“I have a hunch they’re scientists, and their apartment is a laboratory,” I say.

“Mmmm. They are in the middle of an experiment, which if successful, will rock the foundations of everything we know and are familiar with,” Marian says.

We go on and on, creating outrageous lives for my neighbors. Marian laughs until tears come to her eyes. My heart soars to know that her sorrow is slowly ebbing away. As sad as I feel about the baby, I’m glad that Marian is okay, and she didn’t come to any harm.

“Hard to believe that we’re in LA,” Marian says as we walk up the mountain trail.

“I know. One of the reasons why LA is one of my favorite cities,” I tell her.

The air is clean here and the view unrivaled. We have a 360-degree view of LA. Marian and I break for water and to admire the view. She looks so thoughtful, looking at our surroundings but not seeing it.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” I say.

When she turns to me, I see that her eyes are filled with tears. “I’m just thinking how much I’d have loved to hold our baby if she had been real,” Marian says. “What would she have been like at three years old?”

I swallow a lump of saliva. My heart squeezes painfully at the grief in her voice. I don’t know how to help her. This feels so beyond me. I need help. The only thing I can do at the moment is to hold her and let her