His Fake Fiancee: BBW Romance (Fake it For Me) - Page 19

“I think I was twelve, maybe thirteen when Abuela had the talk with me. Most embarrassing day of my life, but she didn’t drop it, she kept talking until I was comfortable with the idea. And yeah, my mom was pissed but she got over it.”

A heavy sigh and bitter laugh. “Straight up, most men don’t care if we come or not, it’s all about them. Sex can be hit or miss even if you’re crazy in love with a guy. It’s even more so if you don’t know what you like, what turns you on.”

My phone goes off with the emails she sent me. There are three different attachments. I open them as she talks, wondering if it could be as easy as she claims.

Do the...thing she’s talking about, then all the crazy desire for Ivan dies out. I’m not so sure something this strong just goes away, but I’m now willing to consider it.

“Speaking of Abuela, there she is. I need to answer her. We’ll talk later, chica. Night.”

“Night,” I reply, but she’s already hung up.

While I’m thinking of it I call Abuelo and check in. Thank goodness he likes Emily. They’re playing gin, with music on in the background. I figure I’ll wait to tell him the good news about me getting a promotion soon, so our call doesn’t last long.

Hanging up, I check the emails again. I download the stories Anna sent, only to toss my phone away. Later, right now I’m starving. It doesn’t take long to order down for room service. They give a lot longer wait than I thought it would be, so I decide to jump in the shower.

Fifteen minutes later I’m out again and wrapping myself in the pretty silk red robe that used to be Abuela’s. It’s old and worn but I love it.

The knock comes sooner than I thought. I don’t even think before opening the door. Only it’s not room service, it’s Ivan. He is wearing a plain white T-shirt that stretches across his wide muscled chest. Against the white of the shirt his skin has a sun-kissed honey glow I want to taste with my tongue.

I watch in fascination as the skin beneath his biceps ripples. His eyes go wide then trail down over me. Black becomes glittering obsidian as his jaw clenches. It’s the only thing in him that moves. I don’t even think he’s breathing, he’s so still. Tension rises in me to the point of pain; intense heat out of control is consuming me where I stand.

A deep, shuddering breath moves through him. He blinks, then shaking his head, he takes a step back. “I apologize. I had attempted to call you several times to ask a question. I realize now you must not have heard the call. I will email instead.”

I want to argue. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Not a word. He walks away and I’m left staring at the way the soft cloth of his sweatpants caresses his perfectly molded ass. Holy motherfucking crap. I’m so very, very wet. It isn’t until his door closes I can even blink.

Closing the door, I lean against it, my knees too soft to hold me upright. I look down to see my nipples vividly outlined against the cool soft silk. They are tightened to the point of pain. Oh fuck oh fuck, he saw that. Ivan saw everything, I realize as I stare down in horror at how the robe clings to my still damp body.

I bump my head against the door. Stupid, dumb, idiot. He is so going to fire me. There is no way in hell he’s going to think it was an accident I answered the door in a robe where everything was on display.

A knock reverberates against the wood. “Room service.”

I push away from the door to grab the thick fluffy hotel robe I should have put on after my shower. “Just a minute.”

***

Christina

I’m staring at the email Ivan sent. He wants me to come to his room, to give him my personal take on the best buttons to push on Hungry Harvest. No saying what I thought he wanted me to say, and without any inhibitions of Tim hearing. He had sent it from his personal email account, not the work email. Go to his room, right, okay. Taking a deep breath, I push off out of the chair, and freeze.

How the hell am I going to go to his room, knowing I’ll be all alone in the room with him? I think about Anna’s call. Do I even have the time? What if it works, though? It would be worth every minute if it kept me from being a weirdo around him. How can I not?

I push off the robe I had changed back into and remove the underwear I had put on. Even being naked for longer than the time it takes to get in and out of the shower and dressed again is odd. But I need this to work as quickly as possible. God, I cannot believe I’m doing this.

Lying down on the bed, I’m so inhibited I get under the covers. Then I bring up the story and holy crap, this stuff. Words I’ve never read or said before, pussy, cock, cunt. Things I can’t imagine doing, finding pleasure in, are written so well they are actually intriguing.

Finishing the story, I understand why Anna sent it but...I don’t know. I’m not really interested in doing anything. Even though the book had a very vivid description of the woman doing this, which is helpful as I have never even imagined doing this before. I’m not an idiot—I know where my clitoris is—but I’ve never done more than brushed against it as I cleaned my body, and Brandon sure hadn’t known where it was.

Tentatively, I touch myself, but I’m not exactly turned on. If it had been Ivan in the...oh, ah, okay, now it’s happening. Okay, so if the guy in the story were Ivan. There it is again. Let’s try this one more time.

I begin the other story, this time I replace, hmm...Jake with blond hair and leather jacket with Ivan, thick black hair glittering lightly with silver. What would it feel like if I ran my hands through it? Ah, yes, now my juices are truly flowing. Ivan in his expertly cut silk suit hinting at the delicious body beneath. Then Ivan in the tight white shirt showing more than hiding those gorgeous muscles of his. The sound of Ivan’s voice rumbling along the skin of my neck. Those large hands running down my body, oh god.

A steady river is flooding me now. My folds are swollen, hot to the touch. How would it feel if Ivan was touching me instead, here where I long for him the most? I’m trying to draw it out like they did in the book, but I can’t, it feels too good. I’m too close. I need this so badly. Once, twice, again and again my fingers swirl around my clit. Yes, yes, it feels so good. So fucking good. I shudder and tremble with the force of my climax.

Floating back down, it’s almost annoying the way the warm tingle slips further and further away. Okay, I get it now. Man, do I fucking get it. And all at once anger builds inside me at Brandon, at myself.

How the hell did I let him get away with getting all this pleasure and me getting not a damn thing, not even a cuddle when he was done? Why the hell did I wait so long to do this, exactly? I totally understand why I was all fizzy and dumb around Ivan, and now I’m sure Anna was right. Now that I know what I’m missing and that I don’t need Ivan and can do this all on my own, I’ll be fine around him. I’m sure of it.

Optimistic, I get off the bed and go into the bathroom to clean up. Then I go into the closet. I grab a pair of black pants and plain button-down white shirt. I’d put my hair up so it wouldn’t get wet while I took a shower, then took it down when I got out. After all day of it in a bun, the thought of putting it back up gives me a headache.

Tags: Fiona Murphy Erotic
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