Faker: A Fake Relationship Romance

by Christie Tegan

  I don’t know if other women enjoy performing this service for their men, but I absolutely love it. Love the way he tastes, the way he smells, and the hard, steely feel of him encased in warm velvet skin. Most of all, I love the sexy grunts emerging from deep in his throat, and I am seconds from an orgasm just from hearing them and tasting him. The slightest friction between my legs will send me barreling over.

  “Do you want me to pull out before I come in your mouth?” he says softly, and I think that’s considerate. But this is my first BJ, and I want to experience it all. I try to hum a no with his cock filling my mouth.

  His hands move to my head, holding it in place, and he begins to pump into my mouth, transferring the control from me to him. When I feel him gripping me firmly, not letting me pull back, essentially fucking my face, I come so hard that I moan though my mouth is full of him. The vibration from my throat pushes him over the edge, and he reaches his climax with a feral roar that makes my skin flash hot, cold, and then hot again. Swallowing the warm, salty liquid that pumps into my mouth, I collapse into a puddle on the rug.

  “Oh no, you don’t. We’ve only just begun.”

  My entire body is trembling, and I don’t think I can stand on my own steam. He crouches down.

  Dragging in a shaky breath, I peer up at him, but no words come out.

  “You look shattered.”

  He gets down on the floor with me, and his arm encircles my waist, clutching it closer to his body. His skin is so hot, it’s like a generator. Are all men this hot?

  Oh God, I think I love him.

  One of his long fingers strokes my bottom lip. “You’re very good with your lovely mouth, aren’t you?”

  “Am I? That was my first time.”

  His look of utter surprise is gratifying in some way. And then I worry about what he thought of me to find that surprising.

  “I guess it’s a natural talent then, one that I appreciate very much.”

  “You’re welcome.” I can’t suppress my smile. I’m happy that I satisfied him. I want to give him so much more if only he’d let me.

  His lips graze my ear, and he whispers, “I’m going to eat your pretty little pussy and then fuck you into oblivion. Okay with you?”

  I’m equal parts embarrassed and ramped hotter by his words. I want to answer him but can only give him a shy smile when he looks at me. “You haven’t seen it yet, so you don’t know that it’s pretty.”

  “I’m sure of it. Every part of you is beautiful. And I’ve been dying to see your tits since I saw Taryn on the camera.” He scoops me up and rises to his feet then tosses me on the bed. I lie back, and he’s on me instantly, dragging my yoga pants down. Leaving my panties in place, he bites my clit through the lace, and it takes everything I’ve got not to scream it feels so good.

  Reaching behind his head, he drags off his t-shirt, but he gives me no time to admire his physique.

  He crawls over me, his fingers reaching for the hem of my shirt, and he pulls it up and over my head. Then his hand slips around and undoes the bra clasp. With his teeth, he pulls the bra away and then tosses it to the floor. He takes a moment to appreciate the view.

  “Wow, those are some gorgeous tits—I knew they would be. Do you realize that you are the total package? You’ve got it all, my girl.”

  He called me his girl.

  He bends lower and takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks it gently and then hard. I buck my hips when I feel it zap right down to my entrance, which is now aching for his hardness to fill it.

  He spends a while playing with my breasts, licking, sucking, tweaking. I think he likes them.

  Then he moves down my body, going past my navel, and when his face is between my legs, he hooks his arms around my thighs. He starts licking me, his warm, wet tongue stroking me through the lace of my panties, and it begins to drive me mad. I want a direct connection of tongue to flesh, and he has to know it. He’s teasing me on purpose.

  When I lift my head to watch him, he glances up and offers me a little smirk. I drop my head back hard on the mattress, and he nips me again, this time sharper. I squeal.

  In response he grips my wrists, holding my arms down and bites a bit harder. I swallow my shriek.

  He bolts up, sitting on his haunches, and slides my panties down my legs. Now I’m totally naked, and his eyes rove greedily over my body. “You can tell me if I’m being too rough. Okay?”

  I nod, suddenly unable to draw my eyes away from him. He’s bare-chested, his broad shoulders and narrow waist gleaming in the dim light of the room but still wearing his open jeans. “Take those off,” I say to him. “I want to see all of you.”

  His eyes darkly shine as he stands up, drags the jeans down his long legs, and kicks them off. His erection is tenting his boxer briefs to a degree that reassures me that he finds me attractive after all.

  My eyes are glued to that erection. He sees me staring and smiles crookedly. Slowly he begins to drag them down, and his beautiful cock pops out to play again.

  Yes, even his dick is gorgeous.

  Before I get enough of an eyeful, he leans down, grasps my ankles and yanks me closer to him, then buries his face between my legs. His tongue is hot, wet, and focused, and it is all over me except where it’s needed most. He seems determined to deny me an orgasm, circling around my clit in the most maddening way. When he does allow his tongue to stroke over it, he gentles it, so it won’t push me over. I’m about ready to scream.

  “Stop,” I moan, dragging out the word. “You’re torturing me.”

  But he doesn’t stop. He keeps doing it, bringing me up and then down, playing my body like a musical instrument. I feel as if I’m about to burst into tears of frustration when his tongue starts licking right over my clit, and though he starts out softly again, he increases the pressure with each stroke until I’m at a point of crisis, and then he gently bites down, still using his tongue to flick me. I hurtle through space right off the cliff, screaming all the way down until his mouth comes down on mine, and he kisses me hard and fast as his cock pushes into me and pumps furiously.

  I have never had sex like this before. It’s l like I’m on another planet, an alternate plane where pleasure is intense and lasting. He keeps his rhythm and pace, and I feel another orgasm sneaking up on me. How is that possible?

  But it is. The pressure builds, and I watch his face as he studies mine. That is, until I reach the point of no return, and he whispers, “That’s right, baby, let go. Give it up. Drench my cock so it can swim in your juices.”

  Hearing those dirty words from him—that’s it for me. I squeeze my eyes shut as I come and come, the contractions so intense that it brings him with me. I watch the end of his orgasm as he grimaces and grunts.

  Then he collapses onto his side, pulling me closer so we don’t break our connection.

  Only as I slowly regain consciousness does it vaguely occur to me that he’s not wearing a condom. For safety reasons, it doesn’t matter too much. I know I’m clean and as far as I know, he hasn’t been with any other woman for a long time.

  But there’s the risk of pregnancy. I’m not on the pill and haven’t been for a long while. He’s never asked me about birth control because that wasn’t the nature of our relationship.

  Fletcher and I haven’t had much of a chance to speak or for that matter see each other since our night before. When he comes home early from work today, I’m just lounging around in my jeans and tank top. He taps on the door as he enters the library, which has become my favorite room in the house. “Hey. I know it’s short notice, but do you think you’d be up to going to a function this evening? It starts at eight, and we could just put in a quick appearance and leave soon after.”

  “All right. What do I have to wear?”

  “A nice dress, not too formal but not casual either. If you have a black cocktail dress or something of that order, it should be fine.”

  “I’ll make it work… so I’m going to take a shower and maybe a power
nap, so I’ll be wide awake later. I’ll be ready by seven. Is that good?”

  “Let’s make it eight. No sense getting there early.” He winks at me, gives me a heart-stopping smile, and ducks out. Then he comes back in, walks purposefully toward me, and gives me a loud kiss on my lips. Then he turns around and exits the room. Neither of us broach the subject of the night we spent together, but it will have to come up sooner or later.

  At 7:55 I head downstairs to meet him. My room looks like ground zero of a clothes tornado. Which is another way of saying I had a slight problem finding the right dress to wear.

  Which is ridiculous really since Fletcher has insisted on buying me a huge wardrobe, so going into my closet is like shopping at an upscale boutique. My problem? I’m indecisive to the max. I end up taking his advice and wear a slinky black dress, sleeveless with thick satin straps and a square neckline. Over it, I wear a handmade crocheted sweater made with metallic silver thread. Silver bangle, diamond studs, black heels, my hair pulled up, and heavyish makeup—silvery blue shadow, dark eyeliner, mascara, and sparkly lip gloss.

  The party is being held at a society matron’s over-the-top mansion. It’s astonishing how some people live, the decadent luxury of having shit-tons of money. I have to give Fletcher some credit there—for all of his wealth and influence, his home though luxurious is not overly opulent. Plus, most of the time, he flies commercial because of the pollution that private planes add to the planet. I mean, he enjoys his money, but he’s not a glutton of consumption as so many uber rich people are. I respect that.

  As soon as we cross the threshold, as usual Fletcher is surrounded by people, like flies to honey. It must be exhausting being him. A waiter comes by with a tray of wine-filled glasses, and I nimbly relieve him of one and smile. He smiles back with a row of ultra-white teeth.

  As I sip, I glance around, admiring the people. All around me are women whose dresses run the color spectrum, all glossy and beautiful with incredibly stunning shoes. The men look fetching in well-cut suits, some of them wearing their hair slicked back and others with very short hair. There’s one guy with long hair pulled back wearing a flashy purple ensemble, but most of them skew conservative but fashionable. By the time Fletcher remembers I’m alive, I’m almost done with my drink. “Marley, will you excuse me for a few minutes please? I need to have a private conversation with a colleague. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  This is the usual pattern. I nod. “Go, I’ll be walking around, attempting to mingle.”

  He winks at me—which makes my heart swell—and walks away with a tall man with graying blond hair. I do as I said and glide through the large room. At the end are three sets of contiguous French doors and all are wide open. I decide it would be nice to get some air, so I head out there with a fresh glass of cabernet.

  I’m at the railing, lost in thought as I take in the night sky. Someone comes up behind me and gets very close, so close that I can’t turn around without bumping into the person. I can feel his erection poking at my back and hope like hell it’s Fletcher, but I’m almost certain it’s not. Despite last night, he would not take such a liberty with me, certainly not in public.

  I freeze in alarm. Terror, really.

  Warm breath drifts into my ear, and a disembodied voice whispers, “I finally found you again.”

  I recognize that deep voice, and immediately, feverish chills radiate out from my spine, tentacles going in all directions. It can’t be. Oh my God, no.

  But in my gut, I know it is.

  I knew it. When I almost ran into him recently, I knew it was an ominous omen.

  My past just caught up with me. Bigly.

  28

  Marley Jacobs

  Almost six years earlier:

  The bus pulled into the West Harrison station at 10:10 a.m. The two of us clomped down the steps in our matching Doc Martens and into the blinding sunshine, blinking like vampires just out of the coffin.

  Tara dropped her suitcase onto the sidewalk long enough to stretch her back. “Ugh, I feel gross.”

  “Me too. What I wouldn’t give for a long, hot shower right about now.”

  I looked around to get my bearings. I’d had thirty-two hours, minus a few hours of sleep in between, to study the city map of our new home and check out apartment and job listings online.

  Across the street, I spotted some kind of cafe and elbowed Tara. “Let’s go over there to that little diner and get some coffee and food. We’ll find our hotel afterward.”

  Before we’d left Albuquerque, we’d booked an inexpensive room at a hotel that was on the fringes of the city. Being far from everything, it wasn’t ideally located to be our base while we looked for a place to live and a job, but it was cheap, and we had limited funds.

  As we made our way across the street, I was thinking about what I was craving to eat and trying not to focus on how stiff my body was from sitting up for so long.

  “Hello there.”

  The male voice was friendly, and I swiveled my head to the right. The first thing I noticed about him was that he had a mischievous grin. I nodded and politely returned the greeting.

  “You two look like you could use a friend. How ‘bout I take you out for breakfast?”

  Did this guy think we just fell off the turnip truck? I knew about guys like him who hung around bus and train stations looking for innocents and runaways just arrived from the boonies. That wasn’t us. We were definitely smarter than that.

  Without even checking with Tara, I answered him. “I don’t think so. But thanks anyway.”

  “Aw, come on. There are no strings attached. I promise.” He crossed his heart with his finger and winked at me.

  I looked at Tara. My instinct was shouting at me to tell him to get lost, but we really could use a free meal, and the guy did seem pretty harmless. It was broad daylight, and there were two of us against one of him. Plus, he was dressed in what looked like expensive clothes and was good-looking to boot. Tara shrugged.

  “What’s in it for you?” I chuckled to soften the abrasive question.

  His mouth dropped open, and his dark eyes shone with amusement. “What’s in it for me? I get to look at two beautiful women for an hour or so.

  I gave him the stink-eye for half a minute, but then relented. It was a free meal, and he swore there were no strings attached to it. “Okay, that would be really nice.”

  “Did you guys just get into town?” he asked as we reached the other side of the street, and he steered us to a car idling at the curb.

  “Yeah. We’ve been sitting on a bus for thirty-two hours. We’re tired and cranky and our asses hurt.”

  “Ouch. That is not fun. Come on, I know a great little café. My Uber just got here.” He gestured to the waiting car. “I’m Rico, by the way. Rico Holland.”

  “I’m Sasha Petrov and this is Pia Browning.” The fake names came spilling out of my mouth without thought, both belonging to girls we knew in high school. No way was I going to tell this stranger our real identities. In my head I started weaving a whole background story.

  “Nice to meet you, girls. I think we’re going to be great friends.”

  “Yeah? Except we’re not getting in that car. There’s a café right across the street.”

  He looked at me, looked at the café, and then stuck his head in the car and said something to the driver. He turned back to us. “Okay, across the street it is.”

  During breakfast, he started digging for information.

  “So ladies… where is your hotel?”

  I didn’t think he needed to know that. “It’s sort of out of the way. I don’t think we’re going to stay there more than a day or two.”

  Rico looked me in the eye. “Did you already pay for it?”

  Why was he asking me that? How much should I tell this stranger? I’d been studying him on the sneak. He was very handsome in a too-smooth kind of way. Light hair, slicked back, and green eyes, manicured hands, gleaming white smile. He wore lots of black but
luckily no jewelry. Any jewelry and I’d have written him off as gangster because he was just this side of sketchy. “No. Why?”

  “I own a hotel not far from here. I’d like to give you girls a room, free of charge. Just because.”

  “Just because why?”

  “Because as I said earlier, you look like you need a friend. And I can do it easily.”

  “That is super kind of you, but we couldn’t accept. But thanks.”

  “Sasha, I insist. It’s nothing for me, and I’m certain it’ll be a lot nicer than the one you booked.”

  “I’m certain too,” I muttered under my breath. Before I could add anything that he could hear, Tara piped up.

  “Where is your hotel?”

  “From here? A short cab ride away. I can have you both showered and having a nap within the hour.”

  “Ah, that does sound good. But why are you being so incredibly kind? There’s got to be something you want in return.”

  Shaking his head, he grinned at me. “Tsk-tsk, so cynical. Nothing’s in it for me except two new friends and maybe some good karma down the road. Like I said, it’s no big deal for me. I own the hotel, we have some vacancies, and you two need a place to stay. Mi casa es su casa.”

  “Let’s do it, Ma—”

  “What?” I interrupted her, glaring, before she could finish saying my real name.

  A look of apology flashed across her face. “I’m ready to drop. Wherever we’re staying, let’s go. I can’t stay vertical much longer.”

  I swallowed the rest of my coffee, my mind hustling overtime. I didn’t want to do anything stupid, but if this was legit, it’d be a huge help to us that I hated to pass up. I turned to Rico. “If you really mean it that there are no strings attached, then it would be amazingly great to have a room close by.”