Fake it Baby

by Tia Siren

  Brooke didn’t laugh at my feeble attempt at a joke. At first, she didn’t respond at all. After a minute, she said, “Is that why you invited me here, to warn me about Mark?”

  “What? No,” I said, immediately, “Definitely not. I invited you here because I’m really attracted to you. I think you’re fun and interesting, and classy as hell.”

  I gave her a rueful smile.

  “Which may make me slightly biased about the Mark thing, but what can I say?”

  As she took a sip of wine, Brooke smiled at me gently over the rim of her glass.

  “Alright, that’s acceptable to me.”

  Under the table, I nudged her foot.

  “Oh yeah, me being attracted to you is ‘acceptable’ to you?”

  She shot me a cheeky half-smile.

  “Yeah, I’ll allow it.”

  “And what about you?” I asked, “Are you only here to get warnings about Mark from me?”

  She smirked.

  “Not exactly, there’s a guy I like here.”

  I feigned a surprised expression.

  “What—here in this restaurant? It’s that fucking maître d who can’t keep his eyes off you, isn’t it?”

  She giggled.

  “No, he’s sitting at a table at the edge of the restaurant, actually.”

  Impulsively, I grabbed her hand. I wanted to kiss her, right here, right now. In this genteel upscale restaurant, I wanted to give her a great big smacking kiss. The kind that made the rest of our bodies want to join in as well.

  But already our waiter was back, with our orange-glazed pork tenderloin, so I only grinned at her. The food was even better than expected. Every piece of pork was more delicious than the last, while the potatoes had been spiced to perfection. Despite this, it was hard to concentrate on the food with Brooke sitting directly across from me. My gaze kept flicking to her mouth as she enjoyed her food. When she wrapped her lips around the straw in her water, my boner swelled uncomfortably against the side of my thigh. Fuck, concentrate Jake, just get through dinner.

  The sexy look Brooke shot me as she sucked up the water didn’t help.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked, when she lifted her head.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Liar,” she teased.

  “Believe me,” I said in a low voice, “you don’t want to know—it’s definitely not PG-13.”

  “PG-13 is boring anyway,” Brooke scoffed, her eyes daring mine to reveal it.

  Under the table, I rubbed my leg against hers, then stopped.

  “Brooke,” I said, taking her hand and lifting it to my lips, “I brought you here because I wanted to get to know you better. I wanted to have a romantic night with the girl I have a crush on.”

  As my lips connected with the soft skin oh her wrist, Brooke smiled.

  “I’m having a really wonderful time.”

  I let go of her hand, then, running my finger around the edge of my wine glass, I eyed her.

  “That was supposed to get you to tell me more about yourself.”

  A grin came over Brooke’s face as she nodded.

  “Of course. What do you want to know?”

  Asked point-blank like that, I found myself speechless.

  “Well,” I said, “Hm. What about your paintings—would you ever show me one?”

  To my surprise, Brooke pulled out her phone and started flicking through it.

  “Of course. Let me just find one.”

  She shot me a nervous glance.

  “And no lying if you hate it.”

  “Of course,” I said, although I couldn’t imagine myself disliking anything she had made.

  “Here,” she said, a few seconds later, holding her phone out in front of me.

  It was a photo of a piece so extraordinarily good, that I thought she was joking.

  “No way.”

  She frowned with petulant irritation.

  “What—you didn’t think I was capable of it?”

  “No,” I said immediately, “Well, kinda. I mean this is—damn.”

  And it was amazing. Brooke’s canvas was far better than anything I could ever hope to do myself. She had done it in an abstract, yet modern style. The painting was of a girl’s face, turned away slightly, gaze on the horizon. Her face was all jagged and cracked with different teal sections, as was her extended arm.

  “This belongs in an art gallery,” I stated after a minute.

  Brooke looked at me with obvious pleasure.

  “You’re just saying that.”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m not actually—you have real talent. This piece is phenomenal—I mean, the feeling just bleeds off of it. What is the story behind it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Brooke’s face fell.

  “Yes, of course. Uh, it’s of me, as a girl, when my dad left for the last time. I was twelve.”

  “Shoot, I’m sorry. Not exactly first-date material.”

  Brooke smiled bitterly.

  “No, it’s fine. His leaving made me who I am today. It made me swear to myself never to rely on someone the way my mom did on him. To never let someone get away with God knows what, time and time again like she did. He was an alcoholic.”

  The more Brooke was saying, the more incredible she seemed to me. The fact that she had somehow come through a nasty disfiguring oven accident as a child and grown up in a dysfunctional and eventually broken home, yet still came out so well-adjusted seemed incredible to me.

  “You really are something, you know,” I said, taking her hand, “Going through all that and still ending up as positive and kind as you are is pretty remarkable.”

  Brooke smiled.

  “Thanks, although I think you’re exaggerating. Everyone has problems and deals with them.”

  As I entwined and re-entwined my fingers with hers, I shook my head.

  “No, I don’t agree with you there. My dad left too and it broke me up for years. And then when my wife left—I was a wreck for months. I still haven’t gotten over it completely.”

  At that, Brooke took my face in her hands. Gazing into my eyes, every pore of her face was filled with a sorrowful understanding of my sadness.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  We kissed. As our lips lingered over each other’s, I thought about how fantastic Brooke was. She had really meant it when she’d offered condolence—her sorrow had literally radiated off of her. God, she was perfect.

  “It was just so sudden,” I said, my gaze going to the starry night, “One minute we were in love, and the next I was nothing to her. She said it was because she didn’t see enough of me, because of my long hours at work. I promised to change, but by then it was too late.”

  Now, the whole feeling at the table had shifted. I felt it myself, and could see it in Brooke’s eyes too—I could tell she was feeling sadly reminiscent.

  “Want to go for a ride?” I asked.

  “What—now?” Brooke asked.

  I rose, setting a stack of bills on the table.

  “Right now.”

  “But Jake,” she said, giggling and tugging my hand, “That looks like way too much. Are you sure?”

  I winked at her.

  “Clearly you didn’t even glance at the prices. Besides, worst case, I gave our waiter a nice tip. Think of the great service we’ll get next time.”

  “But Jake,” Brooke said again, as I tugged her along.

  “Less talking, more walking,” I instructed with her.

  Giggling, she dutifully obliged.

  Outside, my black Lamborghini was in the same spot I’d nabbed up front when we’d gotten here.

  “Do I get to know where we’re going?” Brooke asked, as we sped along the road.

  “Absolutely not,” I said. “It’s a surprise.”

  She sighed, then locked her lips onto my neck.

  “What if I kiss it out of you?”

  “Do you know the statistics of accidents caused by kissin
g?” I asked, as I revved the engine and swerved the car back and forth on the empty road.

  “JAKE!” Brooke cried delightedly.

  Unfortunately, that distracted her right off my neck.

  “Whatever,” she said, “I can see where we’re going anyway—the Hollywood sign.”

  “You got it,” I said, “It’s pretty abandoned at this time of night. It’s perfect—you’ll see.”

  And, only a few minutes later, we did.

  I parked down the road a bit, then, hand in hand, we trudged up the winding road.

  The area around the sign was completely unoccupied as I’d hoped. Brooke and I stopped a few feet away to take it in.

  “No matter how many times I see it—” Brooke began.

  “It never loses its majesty,” I finished.

  She glanced at me and grinned which I took as an invitation and immediately swept her up in my arms.

  “Jake!” she cried, “What are you doing?”

  I didn’t reply until I’d set her down behind the Hollywood sign. Sitting down beside her, I said, “What I’m doing? I am kissing the sweetest, sexiest girl I know.”

  And that was just what I did.

  Chapter 14

  Brooke

  His lips against mine were warm—just like the rest of him. His hands, caressing my arms and shoulders, his adoring gaze, it was all warm. Hot actually, I could feel it all scorching me. His kisses travelled down to my collarbone, up one shoulder and down the other. I groaned. God, every kiss was so sensuous, so nibbly and flawless. Already, I was incredibly wet.

  But Jake was just getting started. He tongued at the inside of my mouth, thrusting his tongue in rapidly and quickly, a foreshadowing of what was to come. When I drew back for some air, his hand grabbed my braid and pulled my lips back to his.

  His hands swept up and down my sides, pausing at every ripple of my dress, rubbing me with the palm of his hand. When he reached my tits, his hand snaked down to join the other one. As our lips sucked and nibbled at each other, his hands fondled my breasts over my dress.

  Another groan escaped my mouth. Jake paused, smiling. One hand latched onto my dress strap, then the other. In one fluid motion, he yanked my dress down—and gasped, as he took in the sight of my half naked body. All I was wearing was panties, no bra. My dress had been thick enough to go without. And now, Jake was bowled-over by the sight of my bare full tits.

  “Dear God,” he murmured.

  He lowered himself so that he was face to face with them. Taking them in his hands, like they were holy things, he felt them gingerly.

  “They’re perfect,” he breathed.

  Satisfaction rippled through me as he caressed them slowly and painstakingly. Fuck, it felt so good. As if every touch was a sort of prayer, our bodies moving together a hymn.

  When his lips latched over my tit, I couldn’t take it anymore. My hands snaked down to find his dick, poking through his parts—incredibly hard—and big. As wet tendrils of pleasure flickered through my breast to my whole body, I caressed him. When his lips kissed their way to my other breast, I unbuttoned then unzipped his pants. He groaned, and I grabbed what I really wanted. He was rock-hard and even just caressing him with my hand felt incredibly good.

  Now Jake was kissing his way down my front, while his hands snaked around my panties. He kissed along the rippled edge of the red lace. He snapped the band and my fingers latched into his thick dark curls. Oh yes.

  He slipped his fingers under the lace and moans spilled out of my mouth as he slipped his fingers inside me. While his one hand fingered me, gently at first, his other pulled off my panties and tossed them aside. Into the grass. The grass that we were laying on. The grass behind the Hollywood sign—where someone could show up any minute.

  Remembering just where we were, I grabbed Jake’s hand. He looked at me with surprised confusion.

  “We’re just—out in the open,” I said.

  He looked around, as if remembering for the first time.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, just as he started vibrating his finger inside me.

  I groaned. Sure, we could go home and do this, or at least go back to the car. But right here, right now, this was perfect. Really, I didn’t want Jake to stop—I wanted him to keep on going.

  And, as he lowered his lips to my pussy, I realized the truth. That this wasn’t insanely hot despite the fact that we could get caught. It was insanely hot because of it.

  As his mouth joined his hand in pleasuring my pussy, my head dropped back onto the grass. It felt so fucking good. The way his tongue mashed on my clit over and over again, at the same building rhythm as his pumping finger. He nibbled his way up and down my pussy lips, kissed and sucked them as I cooed. How was it that he knew just how to touch me? He even tongue-fucked me a few times, which sent my whole body out of my control. Then, he kissed his way back to my clit, and slipped his fingers back inside of me.

  “So fucking wet,” he growled.

  “More,” I moaned back, opening my legs wider.

  “What’s that?” he said, jamming his finger in as fast and far as it would go, “You want more?”

  Amidst the powerful bursts of pleasure overtaking my body, it took all I had to gasp, “Yes—please. More—oh God, please.”

  As he upped his pace on my pussy and clit, more and more, my brain began swimming with pleasure.

  “More?” Jake said, pulling his fingers out of me, then flipping me around he shoved himself into me all at once, “How’s this for more?”

  The shriek coming out of my mouth was the answer. I could barely think, barely breathe, so much intense feeling was coursing through me. From my pussy as he shoved his huge cock into me, to my tits, as his hands snaked around and around, still caressing them.

  “Jaaaake,” I groaned weakly, as he slowed down, stroking my head.

  “Sorry Brooke,” he said, “I’m just enjoying this way too much to stop.”

  As release edged away, I shoved my pussy back onto his cock.

  He smacked my ass.

  “What’s that—you still want more?”

  “Yeah, fuck yeah,” I said, as I shoved my pussy onto his hard dick—over and over again. “Give me all of your fucking cock, hard.”

  And he did. Dipping into me, he thrust into me fast and hard, like a jack-hammer, over and over until the sounds coming out of my mouth were no longer mine.

  “Ughhh yeahhhh,” he was growling as our bodies slammed into each other.

  Now his thrusts had become slower, but deeper. Each time it left our bodies shaking with the after-pleasure of it. Thrust, tremble, thrust, tremble. All the while, this building pleasure, this building fuck-ton of motherfucking nirvanic pleasure, swelling to the release.

  Now my whole body was shaking with his thrusts and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Please,” I groaned, “please let me cum.”

  He paused to pat my head.

  “Not just yet.”

  He sat down and pulled me on top of him, so that my ass was facing him, but his dick was inside me.

  “You want this dick? Then ride it, ride it until you get your release.”

  I needed no more instruction than that. I bobbed my pelvis up and down so that his cock went both deeper and shallower into my pussy. Up and down, side to side, I ground my pussy onto him with all I had. And fuck did it feel good. Like his dick was penetrating every part of me, filling me with raw pleasure and need. Now, there were no thoughts, wants, or actions. There was only an urge and a need to satisfy it— more and more and MORE, until my body was shuddering with it—this feeling, this feeling, this fucking feeling. Soon, I was the feeling—a part of it, shaking with it, howling with it. Until his body and mine were one in a single final thrust of joy as he released his orgasm into me and I onto him, the long fingers of pleasure passing through every part of me.

  Then it was over, the grass was our bed and the stars our ceiling. Jake’s fingers ran up and down my body automaticall
y, as if they’d been made for expressly that purpose. I let out a satiated gurgle of pleasure. He turned my face so he could smile into it.

  “That was—I’ve never—”

  “Me too,” I murmured happily.

  It was the truth, too. Mark had fucked me the wildest, but Jake had fucked me the most sensually. Every movement of his limbs had been so hot and erotic. Our bodies seemed made for each other. Even now, face to face with him, I found my lips irresistibly drawn to his shoulders. They danced with nibbly little sucks on the random constellation of freckles there, while he giggled.

  “No way,” I said.

  I drew back to look into his delighted eyes.

  “You do not have ticklish shoulders.”

  He pressed his lips together.

  “Okay, I don’t.”

  I shoved him, then plastered my lips back on his shoulders. As they shuddered with laughter, I threw myself up again and cried, “You totally do!!”

  Together, we rolled around on the grass, kissing and tickling each other, then kissing and tickling each other some more. The soft wind licked our bare skin, while the pinprick stars twinkled down upon us.

  When I started nuzzling my head into his chest and closing my eyes, Jake paused.

  “I really hate to do this—but I think we should probably go.”

  I let out a noncommittal noise, nuzzling myself deeper against him.

  “Seriously though,” he said, patting my bum, “We were lucky enough as it was that no one came up here this whole time. If we go to sleep here, I can pretty much guarantee we’ll have company.”

  I sighed. Right now, I was so sleepy and comfortable, that sounded just fine with me. But my last whisper of wakeful logic spoke to me. Get your ass up, Brooke. It sounded kind of like Karly, and, groaning, I obliged.