Faking It

by Black, Natasha L.

  I wore no bra. The truth was that I had wanted as little as possible between us. When he stripped away the dress and found me bare beneath it, totally bare, he groaned.

  “You’re not wearing panties,” he said roughly, his mouth on my cheekbone, grazing my temple, my jaw, “you wanted me that bad, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t have to answer. He could see and even smell the height of my arousal. The room was thick with the scent of sex already. I could see a tantalizing bead of moisture clinging to the head of his cock, and my pelvic muscles clenched, aching to milk him. He hesitated for the barest moment, his hands an inch from my skin. I couldn’t keep still, needy and restless. My desire made me bold, and I reached for his face, brought his mouth to mine. When his lips rocked over mine and his tongue plundered the sensitive curve of my mouth, I arched toward him, pressed my naked breasts into his palms. His hands were deliciously rough. A growl tumbled from my throat at the scrape of a calloused palm over the hard bud of my nipple.

  My head went back, breaking our kiss. I had to get air, draw great gulps of it into my lungs. The pleasure suffocated me, a fire pulsing into me, my inner muscles clenching fiercely with every pull of his mouth on my nipple. When had he lowered his lips to my breasts? In the heat and blur of passion, everything flowed together until I was reduced to sensation, a pulse beat of longing, a mouth crying out for him, my legs parting wide to wrap around his thighs. I had parted my knees for him, wanted him to know I was ready, that I was certain.

  He laved my nipples, one and then the other, his fingers toying with one and pinching it until it was distended, lewd and bright pink against my pale skin. It was erotic and strange to watch him touch me, to moan as wantonly as I did. Sex had never been like this. I had only been with two other men in my past, and neither had worked me into a frenzy, neither one had made me beg or cry out his name the way I did with Raul. I flung my arms around his back, kissed his neck and chest, so hungry for him that I would consume him body and soul if it were possible.

  He pulled away from me, but I clung to him, said his name.

  “Raul—don’t leave me,” I said shamelessly.

  “In my pocket,” he ground out, indicating the pile of his clothing on the floor, “condom.”

  “No,” I said, “please. I’m on the pill. Please just—don’t make me wait. I feel like I’ve waited forever.”

  “God, you’re too perfect,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine, his eyes glazed with lust, his voice ragged with want, “I want every bit of you. I want to kiss you and taste you and make you mine. I want to make you come on my mouth, with my fingers buried inside you, with my cock buried inside you. I can’t decide what to do first.”

  “We have three years to do it all,” I said.

  “Yes, but we only have an hour or so before your family arrives,” he said with a wicked smile.

  We had to hurry. We could be caught. A spike of excitement speared through me.

  “You like that?” he teased, nuzzling my neck, “you are as shameless as I thought you could be.”

  His voice was low and sexy, rougher, sending a hot thrill through me, “So let’s do what you suggested. Just once to take the edge off before the wedding. Before I’m your husband. Right now I’m just the man you barely know, fucking you in a guest room while people are on their way to have dinner here, downstairs. Where we’ll have to act completely innocent.”

  Every word wound me up. There was nothing innocent about this. I was in too deep, crazed with desire. When he said ‘just once’ I wanted to scream. Once wouldn’t be enough. Three years of this might not be enough. He hadn’t even touched me where I needed him most, and I was ready to beg for more, to beg for all night, all week in his bed.

  “Then we should hurry,” I said, trying to flirt and failing miserably.

  “Remember, on our wedding night I get to take my time with you,” he promised, “it’ll take all night long. You won’t remember your name.”

  I kissed his neck, his ear, my hands in his hair. It didn’t matter what he said he planned to do to me in a few days’ time. It mattered what we could have now, how we were wasting minutes when I could have him inside me. It was madness. I had never been like this, wasn’t one of those women who went out looking for a hook up. Still, I was as eager for it as any Saturday night slut sitting on a barstool in a short skirt.

  Raul trailed his fingers down my stomach, rubbed his hand between my legs, cupping my sex. I was so sensitive, and the sensation of his touch was like fireworks on my skin, the maddening pleasure of his stroking just on the outside of my pussy, touching and testing, laughing low in his throat as I tried to arch into his hand, to get the penetration of his fingers at least. I loved being teased, and the way he touched me was perfect. I writhed on the bed, levering my hips against him, bearing down. At last he swept the rough pad of his thumb along my inner lips and parted them, the thickness of his thumb a welcome fullness as it scraped along tender, wet skin.

  “More,” I breathed as his mouth fastened onto my nipple and he sucked.

  He worked his fingers between my legs, stroking me, touching me lightly and teasingly.

  “How much more?” he said, “my fingers? My mouth? What do you want, Allie? I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

  The words that came out of me didn’t seem like my own. He’d drawn them forth like a snake charmer.

  “Fuck me, Raul. Please,” I whispered.

  His face changed, grew serious and intent. He kissed my lips, sucking my lower lip as his fingers probed my secret folds, so wet that my body eased his way for him. Every stroke was delicious torture. He stretched out above me, flattening me to the mattress. He kissed my cheek, my hair, my forehead. He withdrew his fingers, stroked my stomach with his whole hand. The way he stroked me was probably meant to soothe, but it drove me mad, igniting nerves inside my aching passage, setting off a frustrating fizzle of pleasurable sparks as he settled his hand on my hip.

  “Are you sure?” he said.

  “Yes,” I said, meeting his eyes steadily.

  “If I’m hurting you, you have to tell me. I’ll stop, I’ll take it slower. I want this to be good for both of us.”

  His concern was so touching that I nearly cried. I stroked his face, “So beautiful,” I said, “I’m ready.”

  As if he didn’t believe me, he dipped his fingers between my legs again.

  His mouth covered mine, his hands gentle on my fevered skin. The blunt head of his cock nudged between my legs. He was much broader, thicker than anything I’d ever encountered in my limited experience. Raul eased in just an inch and let me adjust. I met his eyes, knew that there must be apprehension in mine. He kissed my forehead once, twice.

  “I have you,” he said, “I’ll go slow.”

  I could tell from his tight smile that he barely held himself in check. He was as aroused as I was—he must be desperate to thrust all the way in, to feel all the sensations of my tight core wrapped around him. But he was holding back, protecting me, thinking of me before his own need.

  “I trust you. I want, I want—” I panted, “I want you to keep going.”

  He kissed my neck, his lips and tongue sending sparks of pleasure down my body, making me wetter, easing his way. He slipped in a little deeper, the pressure of his invasion within me. I wanted this. With Raul. I was just afraid of his incredible size, although he was as gentle as he was powerful. I fisted the sheets.

  “No,” he said, “not the sheets. Hold me.”

  With effort, I unwound my fingers from the sheets and set my hands on his shoulders. At that moment, I discovered I could move, that moving with him felt incredible. I rocked my hips a little, nothing as ambitious as a thrust, but more than a tentative movement. I felt his response, the way he hardened inside me, the way his hand in my hair tightened as tension held his body taut with restraint. His gaze searched mine, checking in with me to see that I was okay, when I was better than okay. I tried to manage a smile, but everything w
as too deep, too tense for smiling then. I could feel him in so deep, yet I knew there was more to come, knew that I didn’t yet hold all of Raul Santiago. I wondered how much more I could take.

  “We don’t have time,” I said, “They’ll be here. We have to—” as I babbled a protest about the dinner party, Raul entered me fully with one long thrust. I rocked back against the bed and groaned. His face above mine, our eyes locked, I kissed his bottom lip. He kissed me back, then pulled away, his face tormented, from the furrow of his brow to the curl of his frown.

  “What?” I said, puzzled, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. It’s right—too right. I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m going to go off any second the way it feels inside you.”

  Raul shifted us, lifting me. He placed me on top of him, “This will be more comfortable for you.”

  With patience and tenderness, he settled me in his lap.

  He folded me into his arms and held me to his chest as if I were precious to him. Then he lifted my hips and eased me down his length. I ached for him with pulses of pleasure skating down my thighs as he entered me. Every part of me lit up, a chorus of yes.

  The slow way he filled me, the breathless moment when we were joined fully made tears spring to my eyes. I had expected a hectic coupling, all urgency and release. Instead, he’d given me tenderness, intensity. My eyes dropped shut as I rocked against him. His movements guided my own, found some mindless synergy where our bodies or nature took over, driving me higher and higher, my entire body going taut before the pleasure broke, sent me spiraling upward with an endless cry.

  I crashed around him, my limbs weak and loose. He rolled me onto my back, kissed my forehead, and then I saw through half-closed eyes the moment when his control snapped. When he drove into me, his thrusts frantic until he went rigid with a shout. I felt the hot spurt of his release inside me, and my body gave an answering clench, a spike of primal ecstasy as he filled me. My head tipped back as I moaned.

  Raul was kissing me, rolling us onto our sides so he could hold me close. I lay across his chest, spent, overwhelmed. He kissed my lips, my face, my hair.

  “Are you okay?” he said, worry in his voice.

  “Never been better,” I slurred with a lazy smile. He laughed softly.

  “Good, I didn’t want to hurt you. I know I’m—”

  “Huge?” I said. “You are. I agree, but you know the old joke about how it isn’t size that matters, it’s how you use it? Well, you have both, okay? Like, five stars, would bone again.”

  “Would bone again?” he said, smirking.

  “You’re going to have to get used to my sense of humor,” I said, “because we have three years of this ahead of us. God, three years? I’ll never be able to walk! I can’t eat dinner. I really can’t. I’m just weak.”

  Raul chuckled. “It was a full body experience for me, too. That was amazing. The way you wrapped yourself around me. I thought—I don’t know what I thought.” He seemed to shake himself out of a reverie and gave a half smile.

  “It was really surprising. In a good way.”

  “Did you expect it to be bad?” he deadpanned.

  “Well, no. Obviously, not. I mean, you’d kissed me before and that was amazing. I just didn’t know it could be this good. I didn’t know that this good was a thing. That probably makes me sound really naïve.”

  “Not at all. This was unusual.”

  “Unusual sounds even worse than surprising,” I said.

  “Let’s just decide that we had a good time, and we both suck at pillow talk. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  I melted against Raul and let him play with my hair. I could have purred because it was so relaxing.

  “You’re humming,” he said. I didn’t open my eyes, but I could hear a smile in his voice.

  “I’m happy,” I said.

  “I’m going to keep you that way,” he said. “You’re so beautiful. I love seeing you so at ease.”

  I grinned, knowing I probably had mascara smears on my cheeks, tangled hair, and the contented flush of a woman who’d had a very good time. I was almost asleep when he kissed my forehead.

  “Baby, we’ve got to get up. Everyone will be here soon.”

  I groaned, “Ugh, they should have stayed home.”

  “Well, they are your family and I’d like to make a good impression. So I should at least put on some pants.”

  Reluctantly, I staggered to the bathroom and cleaned up. It was surprisingly easy to reassemble myself, although it took a lot of concealer under my eyes and above my bruised, too-kissed lips. By the time I was ready, we still had ten minutes free and clear to be calm and ready for even the earliest guests.

  “I can’t believe how much time we have left,” I said.

  “Was that an insult?” he said, “Because I told you on our wedding night, I’ll take hours with you.”

  “You know, we already have the license. We could just sneak off to the courthouse tomorrow and get married,” I suggested playfully.

  “So that’s all I had to do? Take you to bed? Now you’re in a hurry to be my wife,” he said. I knew he was teasing, but it was the damn truth.

  Shameless addict, I thought again, but I didn’t want to spend another night without him.

  “I admit it,” I said as lightly as I could, “I want to be in your bed. With you.”

  “Is this the same woman, the same innocent woman who, a few hours ago, refused to even hang her dress in my room for fear that I’d seduce her if she changed clothes there?” he teased me.

  I felt a naughty smile curve my lips as I reached out to straighten his tie.

  “You’ve debauched me since then,” I said.

  “I haven’t begun to debauch you. That was just a taste,” he said. The swoop of my stomach at his words assured me that my body wanted more of what he was offering.

  Smiling a little shyly, I hurried downstairs to check on the preparations. Everything was perfect. The housekeeper and cook were professionals, and there hadn’t been any need for me to lift a finger. Still, I’d fluttered around nervously earlier until even my dogs lost patience with me and made themselves comfortable on what I thought was a custom leather sofa. I fussed a little with the fresh peonies on the table and looked at the clock. Raul whispered to me that everything was going to be fine, and I smiled at him. My stomach fluttered, but not with nerves. With excitement.

  My parents arrived first, and it was so great to hug them. They’d been gone for months and were full of stories about their road trip. I slid my gaze to Raul who looked amused. I broke away from them.

  “Sorry, that was rude. I know you guys are excited to meet Raul. I just missed you so much I got carried away. Raul, this is John and Mandy Shaw, my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Raul Santiago.”

  “We’ve heard a lot about you,” my mom said.

  “You’re all she’s talked about for the last few weeks. Every FaceTime is Raul this and Raul that,” my dad said, eyeing Raul up and down appraisingly as if to say he expected more. I knew it was one of his cop routines, one he’d done with our boyfriends in high school, the ‘my daughter can do better’ look. I should’ve warned Raul. I loved my dad, but he could be a little over the top.

  “I’ve heard a great deal about you as well. Allie is obviously very close to her sisters, but she adores the two of you,” he said. I silently gave him a point for being gracious.

  “Thank you. You have a lovely home,” my mom said.

  “Good to meet you. How many acres you have here?” my dad said. I wanted to elbow him, but it was endearing, too.

  “I have over 20,000 here on Santeria. Most of the land is for grazing. I’ve got between nine and ten thousand head of cattle most of the time. About a third of those are in a separate herd because they’ve been selectively bred for hide. I have tanneries that supply my family company Santi Leather in Italy,” he said, a smile on his face like he was at a job interview.

  It did sound pretty dam
n impressive. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “So tell me about these cows,” my dad said, clapping Raul on the shoulder just a little harder than necessary.

  I kept an eye on them while my mom chatted to me about how much she loved RV living and how they should’ve sold the house sooner. Raul seemed to be holding his own just fine, so I relaxed and talked to my mom. When my sisters arrived bearing wine and a bouquet of daisies from a grocery store on the way, I gave them hugs and turned my mom over to them—they’d missed her too. I joined Raul, perched myself on the arm of his leather chair as he talked with my dad.

  “I was a cop for thirty-two years,” he finished proudly, “when I retired, they gave me this watch. Even set up a scholarship in my name for academy students to go to a special training about effective communication with civilians during law enforcement intervention. It’s a good training—helps give the officers tools to use to defuse a situation before it gets heated. I was very proud they set up the scholarship.”

  “You should be, Daddy. We’re all so proud of you. The program really changed things for him about ten years ago, Raul. He started working within the department to help other officers who were uncomfortable or more edgy stopping people of color. He helped work to reduce the use of excessive force and profiling in his precinct, and they honored him for it,” I said.

  “This one here’s always been my cheerleader,” he said fondly.

  Raul hooked his arm around my hips, and I leaned down to whisper to him, “I think they love you!”

  “He threatened to kill me and make it look like an accident,” he whispered back. I gaped at him, and then realized from his mischievous grin that he was joking.

  “Do not kid about stuff like that. He used to be a cop. He knows all kinds of crime scene crap,” I said.

  “He mainly talked about his retirement. And he likes meat. So that’s good.”

  I turned back to my family, “Tonight most of our meal was raised or grown right here on Santeria. The steaks, the asparagus, even the berries in the salad.”