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Best Fake Fiancé: A Loveless Brothers Novel

Page 19

by Noir, Roxie


  “Thanks,” I say, and start on my third cup of coffee for the morning.

  “I got impatient and ordered already,” she says. “I hope you wanted a breakfast burrito.”

  “That sounds magnificent.”

  She takes a long sip of her own coffee, and I take the moment to marvel at my older sister. It’s seven in the morning, and she’s wearing mascara and a necklace along with her jeans and shirt.

  How does anyone accessorize this early? I just feel lucky that my shoes match.

  “You boned him, right?” she asks. “Please don’t tell me you were up all night just talking or something.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” I ask, ignoring the first part of the question for now, just to fuck with her a little more.

  “You’ve wanted his dick for like ten—”

  An older woman I don’t recognize turns and looks at Elizabeth, and she looks away, toward the window, clears her throat.

  “—like ten years,” she finishes, her voice considerably lower.

  “It hasn’t been that long,” I protest.

  “Charlie,” she says, leaning in. “Did. You. Bang. Daniel—”

  “Yes,” I hiss, also leaning in.

  “Atta girl,” she says, and holds out one fist. I bump it with mine. “That was the first time, right?”

  I just sip my coffee and lean my chin on one hand.

  “I bought you breakfast,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Come on.”

  “Yes, first time,” I say. “We went cake tasting yesterday and he picked me up and I forgot I didn’t have my car there…”

  I sketch the vague details: no car, sleeping Rusty, Levi to the rescue. She won’t stop grinning like the cat that ate the canary, so by the end of my story, we’re both giggling.

  “I hope he finds your underwear,” she says. “At least they don’t have a dog, that could be a disaster.”

  I take a moment to imagine a golden retriever, running through Clara’s back yard, my panties held aloft in its jaw.

  “I probably should have found them, but I was kinda panicking,” I admit. “They’re there somewhere, right? Oh, God, tell me Rusty won’t find them.”

  “Daniel is very responsible,” Elizabeth assures me. “He’s probably found them already. He does his own laundry, right? Tell me his mom doesn’t still do it.”

  I just shake my head as the waitress comes over and delivers us food: an egg sandwich for Elizabeth, a breakfast burrito for me.

  “He’s twenty-nine,” I say.

  “That doesn’t guarantee shit,” she says, mouth full. “There are some man-children out there, Charlie. Years ago, before Jeff and I got married, I dated a guy whose mom packed him lunch every day at thirty-one. He had to go by her house on the way to work. How that was easier than just making his own lunch I’ll never know, but I broke up with him when he told me that.”

  I dump hot sauce on the burrito and take a big bite, suddenly starving after not eating much but cake in the last twenty-four hours.

  After a moment, she nods at my burrito.

  “It about that size?” she asks, pure mischief in her eyes.

  “What?” I ask, my mouth full.

  “His dick,” she says, like it’s perfectly normal thing to ask.

  I nearly spit my burrito out.

  “You teach children with that mouth?” I hiss once I swallow.

  “No, I swap it out for an appropriate one, like Mr. Potato Head,” she says calmly. “This is my getting-breakfast-with-my-sister-after-she-finally-fucked-a-guy mouth. Also, last time you had a boyfriend, you were way more forthcoming.”

  “That was like two years ago, and also, you got me drunk,” I say. “Besides, you know Daniel, I can’t just tell you about his dick.”

  “I’m just wondering if it runs in the family,” she says calmly.

  I’ve got my mouth open for another burrito bite, and I freeze that way.

  “See? I can fuck with you, too,” she says, and takes a bite of her sandwich, then takes her sweet time chewing it. I narrow my eyes, waiting. She’s the same age as Levi, but there’s definitely no way, right?

  I’d know, right?

  “I went for drinks with some of the other teachers a few months ago,” she finally explains. “Did I ever tell you about Jennifer? Super sweet girl, new to town, teaches first grade?”

  Things click into place.

  “Seth?” I ask, and Elizabeth nods.

  “Really nice, total oversharer,” she says. “Very enthusiastic about her fling with Daniel’s little brother. Great dick, apparently.”

  I make a face at my burrito, because I like Seth a lot but really don’t want to know about his dick. I’m aware that it’s well-traveled, and frankly, that’s more than enough information.

  “I thought he swore off girls in town,” I say.

  For the record, I didn’t really think that Elizabeth had first-hand knowledge of a Loveless dick, but she did still scare the hell out of me.

  “Yeah, but Jennifer’s really cute,” she says, licking egg off a finger. “And apparently a little bit of a freak. Besides, did anyone believe that?”

  She waggles her eyebrows, and I snort.

  “She didn’t get his name tattooed anywhere, did she?” I ask, and Elizabeth laughs.

  “No, she seemed pretty clear that they weren’t a thing,” she says. “At least he’s getting better at choosing, right?”

  “Right,” I agree.

  “You have to tell me something about last night,” she says. “I got you that burrito. And coffee.”

  “I thought that was from the kindness of your heart,” I tease, taking another bite.

  “You’ve got me confused with some other sister,” Elizabeth says, her mouth full. “That’s a bribery burrito.”

  “I had a nice time,” I say, deliberately baiting her.

  “A very nice time?” she asks, grinning, both eyebrows raised.

  “A very nice time twice,” I admit, heat rushing to my face.

  “Hell yes,” Elizabeth says. “I knew Daniel was a gentleman.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Daniel

  “Dance your butt off,” I tell Rusty, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

  She giggles.

  “Then what will I sit on?” she says. “Dad, I need my butt.”

  “Then don’t dance it all the way off,” I tease. “See you in an hour, kiddo.”

  Before I’ve finished my sentence, she’s scampering through the door and into her dance studio, where she lines up with six other little girls, all wearing black leotards, pink tights, and high buns.

  I’m very, very proud of my bun abilities. I’ve impressed many a dance mom by putting Rusty’s hair up in less time than it takes to say pirouette. I’ve even been hit on as a direct result of being able to twist a seven-year-old’s hair into that shape.

  Not today, though. Today I nod at the dance moms and then I’m out the door of the studio in record time, walking toward Charlie’s apartment as fast as I can possibly go.

  I want to be the only thing on her mind. I’ve been sending her innocent-but-teasing texts all day, imagining her pushing up her goggles, reaching for her phone, blushing when she reads it. I’ve spent the day wondering what she’s wearing underneath her coveralls, or if when it’s hot like this, she wears anything at all.

  The thought of Charlie wearing nothing beneath her coveralls was a particularly disastrous one. I spent about ten minutes in cold storage after that, pretending that I was looking for a box of fresh Centennial hops that I know for a fact I never ordered.

  I come to a red light on William Street. There are no cars coming, so I jaywalk. I’ve got my hands jammed in my pockets and I’m resolutely trying to remember the dance moves I’m supposed to help Rusty practice — plie, arabesque, sauté, which I could have sworn was a cooking term — but it’s not helping because now I’m just imagining a naked Charlie doing all those things, and it’s having the opposite of the inten
ded effect.

  I give up and just walk faster. I reach her building. I cut around back to where her staircase is. I take the steps two at a time, and at the top, in front of her door, I pause.

  I take a deep breath. I brush my hair out of my eyes. I wonder, briefly, if I should have brought a breath mint, and then before I can even knock the door opens and she’s standing there.

  Wearing nothing but a thin, brightly patterned robe, the neck open almost to her bellybutton, her damp curls in a high, messy bun.

  “Oh good, it’s you,” she says lightly, her eyes laughing. “I dunno what I’d say if you were my landlord.”

  The edges of the robe are barely covering the swell of her small breasts, her nipples tenting up the fabric, and I’m having a hard time thinking right now.

  I step inside. I shut the door behind myself and lock it.

  “I like your robe,” I say, finally looking her in the eyes.

  I put one finger at the hollow of her throat, step closer to her as Charlie tilts her head up.

  “Thanks,” she says, her voice breathy. “I just got out of the shower.”

  I slide my finger down her chest, between her breasts, to her sternum, and Charlie exhales hard, puts her hands on my waist.

  “And I didn’t get a shower text?” I ask, teasing. “No Hey, Daniel, I’m slippery and wet right now?”

  “While you were with Rusty, not to mention the dance moms?” she says.

  I move the edge of the robe over one nipple, then the other, and Charlie’s eyes flicker closed. They’re pink and pebbled, hard nubs tilted slightly upward. I flick my thumbs across both of them at the same time, sliding my fingers around her ribs.

  “I can be discreet,” I say, letting my thumbs circle her nipples.

  “I wouldn’t want to damage your standing in the dance mom community,” she murmurs, her breath hitching in her throat. “Mmmm.”

  I’m so fucking hard right now. My jeans feel like a cage, my cock throbbing, pulsing, straining against the fabric because this is nearly all I’ve been thinking about for forty-eight hours.

  “I’ll worry about my standing in the community,” I tell her. “You just worry about texting me shower updates.”

  I lean down and kiss her, thumbs still on her nipples. She grabs my hips, her hands already under my shirt, pulling me in toward her. It’s a deep, hard kiss, and she moans softly into my mouth, grabs the waistband of my jeans, pulls me in, fingers an inch from my dick.

  “Hey, Daniel,” she says, her voice low, her lips brushing mine as she speaks. “I’m slippery and wet right now.”

  Fucking hell.

  I untie the robe, shove it aside, capture her mouth with mine again as I slide my hand between her legs.

  She’s not lying. She’s soaking wet, the tops of her thighs sticky, her lips swollen. The moment I touch her clit she makes a noise in her throat and bites my lip, her hand convulsively closing on the flesh of my side. If she didn’t have short fingernails, she’d leave marks.

  “Jesus, Charlie,” I whisper, already sliding my fingers into her, like she’s drawing me in. There’s another little noise, one arm around my shoulders, her other hand suddenly squeezing my cock through my pants.

  We’re not going to make it to her bedroom.

  I push her backward, five steps, and she lands on her couch. I stand over her, fingers still in her, kiss her deeply, my thumb now on her clit. She tries to move but I grab one thigh, hold her in place.

  Then I break the kiss. I plant my lips on her neck, her collarbone. I bite one nipple. I get on my knees between her legs, her breathing ragged, my mouth on her inner thigh, fingers still in her tight, slick channel, and I pull her down until she’s right in front of me.

  I’m breathless, dizzy with desire, her scent filling my nostrils and driving me wild. I flick my tongue across her clit and her whole body jerks, her thighs clenching, so I do it again, then again.

  Charlie grabs my hair in her fist and makes the best sound I’ve ever heard — a breathy sigh, a strangled moan, a wordless plea to lick her until she comes so hard her eyes roll back in her head.

  I flatten my tongue, lick her again, harder, her hips move, and she tightens around my fingers so I do it again and again. I’m careful. Deliberate. I stroke her with my fingers in the same rhythm as I lick her, and I can feel her muscles flutter, tremble.

  “Holy fuck, Daniel,” she whispers, her voice hushed, faraway. “God that feels good.”

  I push her thighs further apart, bury my face in her even harder. Charlie overwhelms my senses, her hips rolling against me like she can’t control herself, her juices on my fingers, my palm, sweet in my mouth.

  I don’t say anything. I lick her harder, faster. She flexes her toes against the floor, arches her back. I add a third finger and she squeezes me, trembling, gasping for air.

  I never want to stop. I’m so hard I think my dick might simply turn to stone and fall off, and yet, I don’t want to stop. I want to stay here forever, Charlie grinding against me, buried in her while she gets closer and closer to her climax, whispering my name while she does.

  I move, lick, coax, stroke. Charlie whimpers oh fucking please, every muscle in her body tense, ready, and I don’t stop. I want her to come undone. I need her like this, here, now.

  “You’re gonna make me come,” she whispers, her chest heaving like she’s running a marathon. “Oh fuck, Daniel—”

  I lick her harder, faster. I watch her throw her head back, a dent in her couch cushions, and just as she tenses, back arched, I put my lips around her clit and suck gently, fingers curling in her tight, slippery channel.

  Charlie shouts, coming. Her pussy clenches so hard around my fingers that I can’t move for long moments, the bones of my knuckles grinding together as her hips lift off the couch, her feet flexed against the floor. She moans, no words, just one long animal sound.

  I still don’t stop, pressure light but steady on her clit, face buried in her. I let her come in wave after wave. She rocks, shudders, gasps for air, and I feel every single tremor until finally, her waters are calm again.

  The moment I pull my fingers out of her she leans forward, her mouth on mine, her tongue probing deep. I still taste like her, but she obviously doesn’t care so I kiss her deeply, rise to my feet.

  Charlie just about tears my shirt off. Seconds later she’s got my pants undone, cock out, and she’s stroking it hard and fast and I have to steady myself against the back of her couch.

  She tears my pants off. I collapse onto the couch, finally naked, pull her on top of me so she’s straddling my thighs, hand still stroking my cock as she’s on her knees, kissing me furiously, her hips rolling against me.

  Both my hands are clutching her ass, round and firm, springy with muscle, and I pull her in until my cock is crushed between our bodies, her tits in my face.

  I suck one nipple into my mouth, roll my tongue around it. Charlie moans, her hand tighter, and I suck on the other one until her breathing goes ragged again, then I find her mouth and we kiss hungrily, desperately.

  “Condom,” I murmur, and she bites my lip softly. I can tell she’s laughing as her hand leaves my cock for a moment and then she’s got the foil packet in her teeth, ripping it open.

  “Was that in your robe pocket?” I ask, pushing her back slightly.

  She shrugs out of the robe in one fluid motion and it flutters to the floor.

  “Of course,” she says, rolling the condom on. “I knew why you were coming, and I didn’t want to waste time.”

  She kisses me deep, strokes me again.

  “I’m a practical woman, Daniel,” she says, teasing. “Why do you think I was wearing just a robe?”

  I pull her in again, lift her, my hands digging into her hips. She’s warm and ready, hands on my shoulders, curls half-falling out of her bun, and she reaches down and finds my cock and steadies it at her entrance.

  This time she doesn’t say anything, just takes me in a single stroke. Her hands c
lench my shoulders hard enough to leave bruises as she envelopes me with a moan, her eyes going half-mast.

  Fuck, it’s good. It’s better than good. She’s warm and tight, her muscles squeezing me as I push myself deeper, her hips moving as I bottom out, shifting inside her.

  “God, I like this,” I whisper, her hips in my hands. We move together, her hips rolling against me, sliding me in and out, her inner architecture stroking me.

  Charlie just nods. She’s got her forehead against mine, eyes closed, hands on my shoulders, the curls slipping from her bun, wild around our heads.

  She moves faster. She grinds her hips against me while I’m buried deep inside her, rises onto her knees, plunges back down with an exhale that’s half-sigh, half-moan.

  “That good?” she whispers, breathless. She does it again, pulling me all the way out and then sinking me deep into her slowly, deliberately. My fingers dig deeper into her hips with every stroke.

  “Fuck yes,” I gasp. “Jesus, Charlie, this is perfect.”

  She moves faster, harder. She grinds against me with every stroke, her eyelids fluttering as she moans and I move inside her, watching her face. We do it again and again until with every single thrust I’m hitting that spot inside her, the one that makes a breathy little oh come out of her mouth.

  Finally, I let go of her hips, slide my hands up to her nipples again. We’re moving faster now, in a furious, desperate rhythm, and when I pinch both her nipples at once, Charlie lifts her head, leans it back, moans explosively.

  “Lean back,” I tell her.

  She looks at me, wild and breathless.

  “I want to watch your tits bounce while you ride my cock,” I say, and Charlie gives me a slow, saucy smile.

  “I didn’t know you’d talk this dirty,” she says, anchoring one hand and then the other on my thigh, arching backward.

  I pull her back down my cock, and I can feel the jolt inside her body as I do, and she makes that oh noise again but it’s deeper, guttural.

  “I didn’t know you’d fuck like this,” I say, and I’m trying to tease her but the words come out, ragged, breathless as our bodies come together again and I’m buried in her and she’s moaning, clenching, and I can barely take it.

 

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