Baby for the Brute_A Fake Boyfriend Romance

by Penelope Bloom

“I want you inside me,” I whisper through clenched teeth, fingertips digging into the back of his neck as I pull him down, craving the taste of his mouth again.

  “You’re going to get more than you can handle,” he growls. He grips me by the shoulders and flips me over like I weigh nothing, straddling the back of my thighs. I feel him shift slightly and see his boxers fling to the ground beside the bed. He’s apparently in too much of a hurry to take my panties off, because he grips the elastic on one side of them yanking the fabric to the side, exposing my pussy. He pulls them so roughly that I’m sure they will be ruined, but I couldn’t care less.

  I expect him to slide himself into me, but instead I feel him push his body back, chest and shoulders weighing my legs down and his big hands gripping my ass. I realize what he’s about to do a moment before I feel the scruff of his beard between my legs. The sensation of his warm, wet lips meeting my sex overwhelms any possible hint of self-consciousness I might have had in this position. I spent the last few hours getting wetter than I ever have in my life I fingered myself for him, came all over my hand and haven’t had a chance to shower, but he’s driving his tongue into me like he’s starving and my pussy is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

  It’s sexy in the dirtiest way, and I’m loving every second of it. I can’t help but clenching my thighs tight, squeezing them around his head and arching my hips to push myself against him. He’s not shy about exploring me with his mouth, and his tongue doesn’t just dip into my entrance or flick across my clit--it strays up and to my ass. The first time he licks around the tight ring of my asshole. I tense up, completely mortified and too embarrassed to even think about what that must be like from his end, no matter how good it feels for me. But he shows no sign of hesitation. In fact, he’s gripping me so tight it tells me he’s turned on by what he’s doing and that I have nothing to feel ashamed of.

  It’s the strangest, most liberating feeling.

  He makes me feel so sexy. He went straight to the most intimate, vulnerable place on my body and is showing me that he’s hungry for me, ready to devour every last inch of me and love every second of it.

  I squeeze the sheets so tight my fingers hurt, but I barely feel it. My breathless moans are muffled by the sheets, but sound after sound escapes me. I’ve never been noisy in bed in my life--not that my unfortunate experiences with Ryan were even remotely close to what I’ve already experienced with Chris. Chris’ tongue is sliding between my legs, dipping into my core and curling to caress my walls in a way that has my mouth forming a silent “O” of surprise, demanding my thoughts stay in the present.

  He has an uncanny ability to sense when I’m about to cum, because I quickly realize he’s not going to let me until he’s ready. I lose track of how many times he brings me to the brink of orgasm, constantly introducing new tricks to keep me feeling like I’m on the longest rollercoaster on earth. He does something with his tongue that feels like he’s making it swirl while he works his fingers between my legs to rub my clit. He slides his thumb down between my cheeks and works it into my virgin ass, making my entire body tense around him. He even does something with his lips, kind of like he’s humming, but it sends vibrations through his entire tongue and electrifies my core, making me belt out my loudest moan yet.

  “Please,” I gasp, turning my head so he can hear me clearly. “Please just fuck me.”

  16

  Chris

  Please just fuck me.”

  Her voice drips with a soul-crushing need, like she’d trade every last thing she’s ever owned or cared about in this moment just to have my cock inside her, to feel her walls tighten around my shaft.

  “I’m not just going to fuck you,” I say, gripping her hips and lifting her ass up, forcing her on her knees where I can see her glistening pussy and her tight ass waiting for me. “I’m going to devour every fucking inch of you.”

  I grip the base of my cock and drive it into her pussy, not bothering with niceties like taking it slow or easing myself in. I push into her impossible tightness, letting out a low, primal sound as her tight, scorching hot walls close in around my length, squeezing me so perfectly.

  Her breath is ragged now, and she gasps my name in an unconscious way that isn’t meant for pleasing me or trying to be sexy. Every moan is real and guttural, sending chills down my back.

  I bring my hand back and slap her ass, watching as a faint red mark appears in the shape of my hand. All my old habits, the tricks and moves I’d use rise up and fall back down in my mind, feeling ingenuine. For some reason, none of it feels like it would be right. It would cheapen this experience.

  I squeeze her hips tighter, driving her body into me like a fucktoy until she’s so wet I can hear the squelching sound of my cock inside her along with the slap of my hips against her ass. It feels good. So fucking good. But it doesn’t feel right. I need more.

  I flip her over by her hips in a quick motion, only pulling my cock out of her for a few seconds to get her in position before I drive myself back into her. I grip her knees and pulling her closer to me so I can enjoy every last inch of her. She’s watching me with those sexy brown-green eyes, long eyelashes, and a thoughtfulness that takes me off guard.

  I squeeze one of her tits, rolling her nipple gently between my fingertips while I pound into her, still battling a strange, confusing sensation that sits at the back of my head--like I’m doing something wrong, missing something.

  I lean down over her, my chest pressed to hers and stare into her eyes while I fuck her, so close that our breath mingles together. The act ignites a new kind of fire inside me, something warm and real, more than just lust. I press my hand to her cheek, kissing her and letting my cock slide out of her pussy.

  I grin against her lips, feeling her own part into a smile.

  “Do I have to beg for it back?” she asks throatily.

  I pull back enough that I can see her eyes. I don’t have words for what stirs in me. No grand speech or gesture. All I can do is stare at her with a sense of wonder for what she’s doing to me. I see her in an entirely different way, wondering how I ever thought she was less than perfect. How I ever managed to let her walk out of my cabin, even that first night boggles my mind. I wonder how I was so fucking stupid not to see.

  “You’re perfect to me,” I breathe, eyebrows drawing together as I hear the words like they’re from a stranger’s mouth. I don’t say things like that to women and mean them, because I never think of them. But now? “So fucking perfect,” I growl, kissing her neck hungrily, but slowly. I savor every taste, exploring her body with my mouth and my hands like we have all the time in the world. Because we do. I’m kidding myself if I think I’m sending her away in the morning. She’s mine, and I’m not going to let what’s mine get away. Not now or ever.

  Goosebumps ripple across her skin everywhere I touch, and her small hands squeeze at me, rubbing and pulling and digging in search for some release, some way to channel the unbelievable pressure she must feel to find her own release. She must feel it because I do too, my cock is so hard, every heartbeat sends a dull ache of pain through me. I need to cum so bad it hurts, but I don’t dare rush this. I feel something stirring inside me, changing me, but there’s still a chance this could be the only time I have her, and I’d spend the rest of my life regretting it if I rushed it by even a second.

  “If you think I’m perfect, you’re going to be disappointed,” she says, stiffening slightly.

  I can sense her insecurity hanging between us, but I instinctively feel where to massage it away, just like a knot in a stiff back that needs kneading. I bring my mouth to her nipple, kissing the hard bud and pulling it into my mouth before letting it go with a satisfying pop. “I don’t have much real-estate left to inspect, but so far you’re ten out of ten,” I say, making her giggle when I try to kiss up her side and to her armpits.

  She bites her lip as her amusement quickly turns back to arousal. “Why do you make me feel so good?”

  “Bec
ause you deserve it,” I say between kisses. Every bit of her I touch with my lips adds fuel to the fire growing quickly out of control inside me. I felt lust when I climbed on top of her in this bed. I felt the normal animal desire to feel myself inside her. Now though? Now I feel something I’ve never felt before. I don’t just want to fuck her. I don’t only want to give her the orgasm of her life. I want to cherish her.

  She threads her fingers through my hair, gripping me tight and pulling me back to her mouth, where I suck her lip into mine and breathe in the scent of her--something flowery and soft. She smells like innocence.

  Our tongues roll together, and I guide my cock back inside her. “God,” I groan against her mouth. “You feel so good.”

  “Not so bad yourself,” she breathes.

  This time, I don’t pound into her. I don’t squeeze her until my hands leave red marks. My teeth aren’t gritted against the out of control intensity. Instead, I ease into her, rocking my length into her depths with a careful, deliberate pace that carries a weight to it. There’s no need to move quickly because this moment is something to be savored, not rushed.

  She digs her fingers into my back, pressing my chest into hers, her breath hot on my neck as we move together, bodies slick with sweat.

  I press my forehead to hers where our eyes can meet. I put my hand to the side of her cheek, watching the beautiful shift of her features as she nears her climax--the way her eyebrows twitch down, forehead creasing, and lips quivering. It’s more perfect than any painting. It’s not only lust and basic instinct that brings me closer to my own climax. It’s a soul-shattering sense of completeness, as if this is the moment and the thing I’ve been searching for. The only thing in the world that’s the right shape to fit the hole that has been inside me for as long as I can remember.

  We cum together--her with a gasp and a shuddering breath that tightens her grip on my back and makes her legs wrap up around me, heels digging into me and urging me deeper. I fight to keep my eyes from squeezing shut with the intensity of my orgasm, not wanting to miss her face as she rides her own. I groan, letting my cum fill her without a second thought, thinking how right it feels, how right all of it feels.

  She squirms when she feels the heat of my release, mouth opening in surprise before she chews on her red and swollen lip, closing her eyes and sinking back into her pillow like she’s about to take the most satisfying nap of her life.

  I kiss her then, surprised to still feel a spark of heat. It’s like I’m kissing my first crush when I was just a kid. I love you. The words bubble up and nearly reach my lips before I bite them back because surely it must be the sex talking. I’m not about to go saying something stupid, no matter how real it feels in this moment.

  “Wow,” she says as I roll off her and turn my head to watch her.

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  “You look surprised,” she says, looking so goddamn beautiful it hurts. Flushed cheeks, lips red and raw from kissing me. Perfect and innocent. Sweet. And right now, she’s mine.

  “Did I pass your little test?” she asks. She smiles mischievously, but the way her eyes flick to mine, then away tells me all I need to know. She’s nervous. Nervous this was all just part of my usual treatment and she was going to get her “I rode Chris Savage and survived, sort of” t-shirt along with her ticket home.

  “Passed?” I ask. “You destroyed the fucking test,” I say, running my finger along her soft jawline. “You might as well have ripped it up and lit it on fire, because—” I clear my throat, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. What was I going to say? Because no one else will ever need to take it? Was I really just going to imply that I’d never fuck another woman? I might as well have been about to propose to her.

  She gives me a strange look at how I cut myself off, but still looks relieved. “When I went to school, if we just ripped up our tests and lit them on fire, that didn’t mean we passed. Your school must’ve been great.”

  I laugh, running a thumb over her lip and fighting the urge to go another round with her. “You passed,” I say. “Flying colors. But I think your professor might want to retest you a few times just to be sure you didn’t cheat.”

  “Oh?” she asks. “I suppose I could talk to him about it.”

  “Good. I hope it goes without saying that I’m canceling your flight in the morning. And if you think you’re still leaving when we head for Italy…”

  “My sisters do need me,” she says. “But I can talk to them about it, maybe we can figure out a compromise.”

  “Whatever it takes,” I say. I mean it, too. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her at my side. Maybe that’s just chemicals in my brain or a lack of sleep talking, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.

  One way or another, my life isn’t going to be the same anymore.

  17

  Lindsey

  Once I’ve showered and gotten myself ready the next morning, I walk down to the buffet in the lobby with an extra bounce in my step. I could get hung up on all the maybe and shouldn’t have’s of what happened between Chris and I, but I don’t need to. I won’t. Last night was like a whirlwind that sucked me in and never let go. I know I’m not imagining what I felt in his hotel room.

  The sex started as lust. It was just an outlet for emotions neither of us could understand, just bodies moving together. Had it ended that way, I’d be nursing a guilt hangover this morning, but that wasn’t how it ended. I saw the look in his eyes change, like he had some kind of epiphany. He was cradling and touching me like I was the most precious thing in the world while he made love to me. It wasn’t fucking. Fucking is dirty and raw and obviously has its place, but this wasn’t fucking, not at the end.

  Every movement of his body was like a caress, as if he was worshipping me.

  A wave of chills runs across my skin at the memory. I felt it too. Being the object of his undivided attention like that was a drug, and it was one I can’t imagine ever getting enough of. As soon as I saw him looking at me like he actually cared, I no longer felt stupid for all the things I’ve felt for him and been too ashamed to fully admit. Yes, I care about him. Yes, he makes me feel good despite all the reasons that shouldn’t be true. Yes, I want to be with him, whatever that means.

  I bite my lip as I round the corner to the buffet, hoping I might run into Chris, but if I don’t I can always go give him a wake-up call after breakfast. He wanted me to spend the night in his room, but I had to call my sisters and give them a check-in to let them know I wouldn’t be coming back after all, despite the dramatic text I had sent on the ride home from the castle. Besides, I had a feeling neither of us would get any sleep if I tried to stay in his room.

  I nearly run face-first into Alec, who is waiting with a smug look on his face. “Oh, good. It’s you.”

  I glare, because screw him.

  “This is for you,” he says, handing me a plane ticket.

  I glance down at it, noticing it’s dated for today and scheduled to leave in only a few hours. “Oh,” I say. “You must not have talked to Chris. The plan changed. I’m actually going to be staying.”

  “I talked to him this morning,” says Alec. There’s a smugness to him I don’t like. At all. “He wanted you to have this.”

  I try to hand the ticket back. “You must be confused.”

  “No confusion. When I showed him the contract you signed to do whatever it took to get the manuscript written, sleeping with him included, in exchange for payment, he was a little upset.”

  “What contract?” I ask. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, face red and hot.

  “The one you should’ve signed yourself. It’s amazing what a couple hundred dollars and an artist can do. Good thing, too. I thought Chris would just glance at it, but he actually didn’t believe me until I showed him the pictures I took of your passport and travel documents.”

  I slap Alec as hard as I can. “Do you have any idea what you’re ruining?” I ask through a thick throat as I fight back tears. “You fucki
ng asshole. Do you have any idea?”

  A few people in the lobby look toward the commotion, but everyone makes an extra effort to look busy, ignoring us while they listen as hard as they can.

  “I gave you a chance to work with me,” he says. “If you’re not going to be committed to helping him finish, then I’ll find someone who will. It’s that simple. So yes. I know exactly what I’m ruining. Your chances of ever being with Chris.”

  It’s a good thing I don’t carry any kind of pepper spray or a concealed weapon, because I think I’d do just about anything to wipe the smug look off Alec’s face. Instead, I turn and head toward Chris’ room at a jog.

  “You’re wasting your time!” calls Alec with an infuriating note of humor in his voice. “And your plane leaves soon. We won’t pay for your a new ticket if you miss the flight!”

  I take the stairs up to his floor, not wanting to wait for an elevator. I find him stepping out of his room with his suitcase flung over his shoulder when I leave the staircase and enter our hall.

  “Chris,” I say, stopping short. “Alec forged the signature. He just told me everything. He was bragging about—”

  “Just stop,” Chris says. The way his eyes look dead and haunted breaks my heart. “I saw the signature on your passport. It’s an exact fucking match. You told me you refused him.” He shakes his head, laughing through his nose cruelly. “Maybe you could write about this on your blog to cash in since you won’t be getting that check from Alec. You can write about how you made an idiot out of me and tricked me into fucking you.”

  “Chris,” I say, pleading. “Just please let me prove it to you somehow.”

  “I’m done with the second chances. I should’ve known as soon as you told me about Alec’s offer that you were just as fake as all the rest of them.”

  “Don’t do this,” I say, falling to my knees and crying, not even caring if anyone comes out of their room and sees me making a fool out of myself. “He’s lying. I swear it!”