My Fake Husband

by Black, Natasha L.

  I slid back to my feet, pushed off my jeans and panties in one movement, and straddled his lap again, my knees on either side of his legs and his hands curving onto my ass.

  “I missed you so much tonight. I’m glad you went out. You deserve it. But I’m greedy and I want you here with me. I want to be home with you, inside of you—” he broke off, palming my head, bringing my mouth to his. “I’d say more but I’d have to stop kissing you and I can’t.”

  “Don’t stop,” I said into his mouth, my hair tangling around his fingers, my tongue in his mouth. It was humid, blurry, and lush. I felt like my body was one aching knot that needed him to unwind it, to free me. I rocked my hips into him so he could feel the slickness between my legs, the wetness gathered there from the way he kissed me, the way he’d sucked my nipple and groped my ass. Everything he did made me wetter.

  Still, when he lifted me by the hips, notched his cock against my slit, I caught my breath. Our eyes met, his with a question, mine with a yes. Then the heavy slide of his cock, so thick, began. The velvety-soft head nudged inside my tender wet lips, and with a long thrust, he buried himself within me. I choked, feeling so full from his invasion, so tight that I could do nothing but sit there, trying to catch my breath. Experimentally, I rocked my hips forward and a blaze of light flashed through me. It felt incredible, so I did it again.

  “Oh God,” he groaned, his mouth on my neck, sucking, biting, gathering me in his arms and bucking into me. I felt so close to him, so intimately connected, our bodies wrapped around each other. My hands were on his bare back, feeling the bunch and flex of his muscles as he tried to maintain control. I started to roll my hips in a figure eight, which felt really good to me and apparently made him have visions of the divine because he was moaning like I was killing him but in a good way.

  “Trix, yes, Jesus, Trix—” he broke off. Suddenly, he kissed my lips hard and deep and then lay back on the bed, “This is your chance, the chance I promised you. To ride me till we pass out. Try anything you want. Use me, baby. Take what you need.”

  I bit my lip. That was easily the sexiest of all the sexy things he’d ever done. He lay back and surrendered, offered me his body for my pleasure. I leaned forward and brushed my lips to his. He wrapped his arms around me, trapped me to his chest and jerked his hips, thrusting deeper. A sound escaped me. I kissed him back and then sat up, seeing the miles of smooth bare flesh, the muscles and cut lines, the face of the man I loved that moved me with a tenderness I was afraid I’d speak aloud. I touched his lips with my fingertips and gave him a soft smile, telling him without saying the words. Then I started to move, rocking back and forth, trying a slide up and down, taking his cock out of me and gripping it in my hand, stroking him and then rubbing the sensitive head all along my outer lips. It was driving him crazy which I enjoyed a lot. Then I teased the tip of him inside me and touched my clit with my fingers. It was good but not good enough.

  Boldly, I reached for his hand, guided it between my legs. When his fingers started to rub me, I gasped, and the world slipped sideways a little. I was bouncing up and down on his cock, riding him, taking him in all the way with every thrust, rolling my hips, arching my back, and all that time, his fingers plucked at my clit that felt swollen and tender, so that every brush of his fingers had the sharp intensity of a pleasure that was almost painful. I whimpered and said his name and he put his thumb on my clit and rubbed relentlessly until a snap of ecstasy lashed through me like a live wire, leaving me crying out, twitching and shaking in its grip. I felt my inner muscles clench around him, and he groaned in response, going deeper, his hips working that cock into me even harder. I collapsed on his chest, wrung out from my climax. He flipped me over and pounded into me for a minute. All I could do was cling to him and try to catch my breath as he tunneled into my body, that powerful cock just pumping into me, shaking the bed.

  I thought he’d come instantly, the fevered eyes, the flush on his face, but he slowed down, covered my mouth with his, switched to softer, slower thrusts. He was romancing me, caressing my body with the backs of his fingers, making my breasts tingle, making my clit spark to life again already.

  “Let me turn you around,” he said, then slid his tongue in my mouth so sensuously that I felt like I could rise off the bed from that ecstasy alone. I nodded. I expected him to flip me over and pound into me, but he pulled me onto my side, curled up behind me so our bodies spooned together close. It felt like heaven, being wrapped up in him, cradled against that big chest. His long fingers reached around, slipping down my stomach and between my legs, teasing me and making me gasp and whimper with the sensations that rippled up my belly and made my toes curl under with pleasure.

  He fingered me, fondled me, traced my folds with gentle, wicked strokes of his calloused fingers. Then he pulled my right leg back just enough that his cock fit between my thighs. I caught my breath when he cupped my sex with one hand, tilted my hips back toward him and penetrated me. The angle was so different, so good. I drew my knees up to my chest to take more of him in my body, but there was his hand, rubbing my clit as that big, hard cock plundered me, taking everything I had to give, relentless and rock hard, burrowing into my pussy and rubbing against places inside me that made me want to lose my mind and die screaming with ecstasy. He drew me back against him, stroked my stomach to get me to lower my knees a little. Then he fingered my clit while he rocked into me, the most romantic, tender rhythm that felt both intimate and completely filthy. I’d wanted him for so long, but never imagined it would be so red hot, so dirty and good and right. I rocked my hips back into him.

  “You like that, baby?” he asked, his mouth on my ear, and then he started kissing the back of my neck.

  “Oh, God, yes,” I groaned. He curled his fingers between my legs, caressing my clit, teasing and pulling back, teasing and pulling back until I was so wound up I could’ve slapped him. Then the faintest brush of his fingertip on the underside of my tender clit sent me screaming in a spiral of pleasure as he kept working his cock in and out of me.

  “How—are you lasting this long?” I demanded as I tried to get my breath.

  “Easy. It’s how much I want you, how long I’ve wanted you. I’ve ached for you every minute. I could go all night, just making you come in different ways.”

  “I’d like that, but I want you to come too. Show me how to make you feel good, please,” I said, looking over my shoulder. He slid out of me, let me roll onto my back and he kissed my lips again.

  “Anything you do to me will make me feel good. You have to know that. The only thing holding me back is that I want to make it good for you. I want this night to be unforgettable.”

  Damon took my jaw in his fingers, turned my head, caught my lips with his, unsteady with the rock of his thrusts but fierce and good, his tongue sensuous and consuming as he kissed me. His arms were around me, and I felt tears sting my eyes.

  He drew away and turned me over. He pulled me back into his lap, “Like this, close as we can be,” he said, and positioned me so that his cock impaled me, penetrating my sensitive sex again, “Does that hurt?” he asked.

  I shook my head. I was tender, but he wasn’t hurting me. I was wet again for him, and his fingers on my nipple, his tongue questing in my mouth made me wetter. I had to bite my cheek to keep from crying. I wanted to weep with how close I felt to him, how connected.

  His stubble was rough against my jaw, his lips soft and hot. They made me shiver and cling to him. I was undone, ruined with pleasure and now broken down to the point that I couldn’t look him in the eye. He would know. He would see how much I loved him, how devastated this night had made me because it was everything I ever wanted. Because he was everything I wanted and couldn’t have. Not for real. Not beyond tonight.

  Damon ran his hands up my bare back, kissed my temple and my cheek, moving in me with a slow, undulating rhythm that was almost hypnotic. “My beautiful, beautiful bride,” he said, his lips on mine. I felt tears slip down my cheeks, bu
t I was powerless to wipe them away, powerless to do anything but hold on to him and kiss him back like my life depended on it. Like it was more than making love, like it was a last, bittersweet goodbye to the only man I’ve ever loved. I pulled away from his kiss and hid my face in his neck, my arms going around him tighter. With a jagged shudder that tore through his body, he tensed with short, deep thrusts. He came, pulsing inside me, a hot rush that stung at the same time it felt glorious. He stroked my hair, held me close, kept me in his lap.

  “God, you’re my undoing, Trix,” he said raggedly, kissing my hair. “What’s wrong, baby? I saw you crying. Are you—did I hurt you?”

  I shook my head, still burying my face, afraid to let him see me. He cradled me in his arms for a few minutes before putting me away, tipping my face up to meet his eyes.

  “What’s wrong? Tell me,” he said, his voice urgent. I opened my eyes, saw the worry on his handsome face.

  “I’m fine. I guess, it was too much. It felt—it’s stupid, okay? It felt real for a minute,” I mumbled, trying to say it lightly, a little sarcastically even. But it sounded anguished. I sounded like I’d been taken apart, like I was heartbroken.

  “Who said it wasn’t real?” he asked “Look at me Trixie. Do you think this is a fling? This is you and me. I don’t grout tile with flings, and I don’t argue about Ghostbusters with flings. I do that with you. With my wife. I think about you when I’m at work, when I’m in the shower, when I’m going for a run. You. Nobody else.”

  “I know we said that we’d be monogamous until the divorce, and I appreciate what you’re saying, that you’re doing that,” I muttered.

  “No. Listen to me. Get this through your stubborn head right now. I am in bed with you because that’s the only place I want to be. Do you understand me? Do you think it’s like this with everyone else?”

  “Unlike you, I haven’t had sex with everyone else,” I said wryly.

  “I haven’t had sex with everyone else either. Besides, this doesn’t feel like any of that, and you and I both know it. This is—not what we bargained for when we co-signed a loan and went to the courthouse. We were supposed to be in name only. But the lines have blurred, and that didn’t start between the sheets. It started the night your zipper got stuck. There was something between us, chemistry. Then we started watching the Back to the Future movies, bickering about them, laughing together. You fell asleep on my shoulder.”

  “What you’re saying is I should never have asked you to help me with the zipper. I should’ve cut the damn dress off and thrown it out,” I said grimly.

  “Never. Not in a million years would I have wanted that to happen instead. I like where we’re at. It’s—”

  “Oh my God, Damon. Are you getting hard again?” I said, surprised.

  “Maaaybe,” he said with a sheepish grin.

  I climbed off his lap and backed away, pulled the sheet up to cover myself. I saw, to my horror, that I’d left a love bite on his shoulder.

  “I like you. I can’t help it. And if my body responds to having you near me and naked—that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

  “This is complicated. So complicated. Why did I let it get this way?” I moaned.

  Damon crawled up the bed and stretched out beside me, naked and magnificent. He propped his head up on an elbow.

  “Maybe you like it as much as I do,” he said archly. I pulled the sheet up over my head. He tugged it down and laughed. I covered my face with my hands.

  “So are you only comfortable going to bed with men you’re not married to? Is that the problem? We’re not illicit enough?” he teased.

  I removed my hands, “I like you too much already. Before. With other guys, I wasn’t in this deep, you know?”

  “Are you saying you like me more than them or that I’m better in bed?”

  “Both,” I said.

  “Good. If you said neither, I would’ve kicked you out of my room,” he teased. “But seriously. You’re not my usual type. And before you smack me for saying it like that, I mean you’re not someone I want to be done with in two weeks or less. You’re in my life to stay, and you’re important to me. Not only because my mother would kick my ass from here to the county line if I hurt you. I like you as a person, which makes me sound like a callous bastard for hooking up with women I didn’t know as well as you or like as well as I like you. I’ve made mistakes, and I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d done things differently.”

  Then he leaned over and kissed me. I grinned so much it hurt. Because he was sweet and fun and considerate and incredible in bed. He just—liked me. If I felt more for him, if I was gathering scraps of his attention and holding them like hot coals and burning myself for the warmth—that was my problem. It wasn’t his fault.

  After a few minutes, and against all odds with my angst over the relationship, I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I yawned blissfully and stretched against the warmth of him wrapped around me. He kissed my forehead.

  “You stay warm. I’m going to make us breakfast,” he said. I grinned at him. I couldn’t help it. What woman could be luckier?

  20

  Damon

  The car chase movie marathon was better than I could have imagined. Because it was the first time I’d watched those movies with Trixie, with her curled up beside me, wearing one of my t-shirts and asking irritatingly intelligent questions about the plot holes in the screenplay. Eventually, her evil plot worked. I know it was an evil plot because she cackled and said, “Yes! My evil plan has succeeded,” when I was looking up at her from between her thighs.

  “So you bugged me with questions about the movie until I went down on you?”

  “Well, yeah. I watched the first movie all the way through because I have a sense of fairness. When it sucked, I shifted into Plan Mode. Start trolling the movie until you can’t resist me. You love it when I take everything so seriously, and I knew it would be at turn on.” She gave me a mischievous grin.

  “You realize you could have just asked me and I would’ve said yes. During, literally, the opening credits of the first movie, you could have said, ‘hey, Damon, wanna eat me out right here on the couch?’ and I would’ve probably grabbed your ankle and thrown your leg over my shoulder so fast you would’ve squealed.”

  “Really? So I wasted all those thoughtful questions about the action movie franchise?”

  “No, those kind of questions are never wasted. Now I can never watch these again without wondering why no one involved in the making of the films ever stopped to think that none of it makes much sense.”

  “So essentially I ruined the movies for you?” she said, crinkling up her nose.

  “No. You made them better than they’ve ever been. I enjoyed that second movie more than I did the last time I watched it. Maybe it’s the taste of you,” I said, kissing the inside of her thigh. “God, your skin is so smooth, it’s all I think about.”

  I climbed up her body, stretched out on my couch and kissed her neck. “Let’s turn off the movies and put this to bed.”

  “I’d love to,” she said, smiling.

  “I haven’t tired you out yet?” I said archly.

  “I’m just getting started. Are you too tired, fireman?” she teased.

  I followed her into the bedroom thinking I was the luckiest man alive. I had her to come home to.

  Weeks passed and it just kept getting better. There was so much business at Trixie’s shop that she promoted her part-time worker to full-time and hired another part-time girl to work the counter. This had the added benefit of my wife being home by 5:30 every night. I had talked to the chief and traded a couple shifts so I could be home for supper four nights a week. It was less overtime and a more regular schedule. Better, he said, for starting a family. I wasn’t trying to start a family but I sure as hell appreciated getting to spend the evenings with Trixie.

  We went to the library one night for the book club, and got into a spirited argument over the book. Her librarian friend and some older peopl
e from town, including my mother were all there, taking sides in our discussion. Trixie was adamant that the main characters should not have ended up together, and she had ‘Reasons with a capital-R.’ They wrapped up the meeting half an hour late because of us.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t whip out a deck of Google Slides and ask for a projector,” I said on the way to the truck. “You really hate that girl in the book.”

  “She was a fundamentally awful person, and he deserved better. Look at how she handled herself when he was fighting the war,” she said, incensed.

  “Maybe he wanted her, and it didn’t matter what happened, that would never change,” I said.

  My hand was on her arm, and I pulled her to me. Right there, kissing her under the streetlight, I felt the happiest, the most right I ever had. The fury and passion in her argument fueled the kiss. Nipping and sucking at my lips, she drove me wild. I got the truck open and pulled her into my lap. She rose up on her knees, straddling me. We never broke the kiss. Not while I reached up inside her shirt and palmed her breast, not when she unzipped my pants, her breath broken in a high-pitched whine from the havoc of my fingers between her legs.

  The last headlights had left the parking lot, leaving us alone there in the dark, deserted space lit by only the hazy bluish glow of the streetlamp outside. I tucked her close to me, my arm low around her hips, her jeans thrown somewhere into the floor. “Please, please,” she said into my mouth. That was all I needed. In seconds, I was inside of her, tight and hot. I tipped my head back against the headrest, riding the sensation of tunneling into her sleek grip. She rose up and covered my mouth with hers again, and I drove my hips upward, unwilling to let her slide up my length when I could bury myself inside her tight passage and groan as I pounded into her. The cab of the truck grew humid with sweat and sex and heavy breathing. Hot and breathless, we ground against each other. She rode me, the wild arch of her body curving back and rocking down on me until we came together in a blinding explosion of hot, wet pleasure.