Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend Book 1)

by Eden Finley

  She screws up her face. “TMI.”

  “All I said was apartment,” he argues.

  “But I know what you’re implying. Can I at least come back for dinner? I’m starving, and Maddox’s cooking is awesome.”

  I wrap my other arm around my sister. “Come on then.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MADDOX

  The love I have for Stacy dims with every passing minute. We’ve eaten dinner, we’ve laughed, we’ve mocked, and it’s been great. Adding Damon into our dynamic, or rather, adding me into theirs, is easy. Damon tends to play mediator between Stacy and me, and now it’s fun for us to watch him get riled up.

  But it’s getting late, and all I want to do is go to bed and show Damon how serious I am about being his boyfriend.

  Stacy pours herself another glass of wine, and Damon and I share a glance. Our desperation for her to leave is mirrored in each other’s stare.

  “God, you two couldn’t be more obvious if you tried,” Stacy complains. “Last glass, I promise. Then I’ll catch a cab and go home. Alone. Again.”

  “You’re single by choice,” I say. “Don’t try to pull sympathy from us.”

  “It’s not my fault this city is full of morons. They’re all either Wall Street wannabes who think their shit don’t stink, struggling artists who work in the food industry to afford rent, or divorced guys with more baggage than the turnstiles at JFK.” Her face screws up as those last words fall from her mouth. “Where are the guys who use their hands to work? Big and strong.”

  “Jared’s in construction,” I mutter.

  That’s all it takes. Stacy downs her glass of wine. “Thanks for dinner. Love you both.”

  “We can walk you home,” Damon says.

  She waves him off. “It’s two blocks. I’ll catch a cab.”

  And easy as that, I love her again. I kiss her cheek and walk her to Damon’s door.

  “Stop pushing me,” she grumbles.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  As soon as she’s gone, I turn to Damon.

  “Dishes?” he asks.

  “Later. Or never. I’m okay with either of those options.”

  He smirks and stands from his small dining table, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Wordlessly, we walk—okay, practically run—for the bedroom.

  Damon spins in time for me to tackle him onto the bed, and we land with an oomph. “Someone’s eager,” he says against my lips which are trying to attack him.

  “Yeah, I am. Been thinking about this all day at work. Do you know how hard … er difficult it is to hide a hard-on in work pants? Every time Stacy told me to get her something, I told her to fuck off.”

  “She probably didn’t notice a difference in your attitude.”

  “True.”

  Damon cradles my face, and his thumb trails my jaw. “Maddy … if you’re not sure about this or have doubts—”

  “I don’t. I want this.”

  “I was going to say if you are you can fuck me instead.”

  I pull back. “But you don’t …”

  “I don’t never do it. I just prefer not to. It’s hard for me to come that way.”

  “I won’t make you do something you don’t get off on. And I’ve been preparing for this.”

  “Preparing?”

  “I’ve watched a lot of gay porn this week when you haven’t come home until late. At first, I was all How does that not fucking hurt? but they seem to enjoy it. I want to try it.”

  “Seriously, had you not blown me earlier, I could’ve come in my pants right now.” He kisses my neck. “So hot,” he murmurs. “But so you know, porn can be misleading. They generally edit out the prepping part.”

  He pulls me down and then rolls on top of me. In charge and in control—this is the Damon that turns me on.

  I try to lift his shirt up and over his head, but he refuses to let my lips go.

  “We have to go slow,” Damon says. “I want to make it good for you.”

  “Doesn’t mean you can’t get naked.”

  “Yeah, it does. I need restraint, because fuck, all I want to do is bury myself in you.”

  “So, do it.”

  Damon starts by undressing me agonizingly slow and kissing every inch of my skin. Open, wet kisses go from my collarbone to my nipples and down my stomach. He purposefully avoids my cock as he takes my pants off, and a tortured noise gets stuck in the back of my throat.

  I want to fucking cry when he leaves the bed. “Where are you going?”

  “I have an idea.” He wanders over to his closet and starts rummaging through the bottom.

  “Is it your turn to look for a tie?” I quip.

  “Nope, but I did remember something Noah gave me not that long ago. I was being a miserable asshole, so he threw it at me and told me to go fuck myself. Literally.” He pulls out an unopened box. “I never used it.”

  “A dildo?” I ask, my voice pitching high.

  “It’s smaller than me but bigger than my fingers. It’ll be better for, uh, stretching you.”

  A nervous laugh escapes. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  “We don’t have to. Just figure it’d be less painful for you.”

  I shrug. “What’s that old saying, in for a penny, in for a pound? Get it? In for a pound. See what I did there?”

  Damon shakes his head. “You’re a dork.”

  “But I’m your dork.”

  Damon’s reaction is exactly what I’m hoping for. The heated stare he gives me when we’re in bed makes me wonder why I’ve never done the relationship thing before—other than with Chastity. It was different with her, because everything was about her. There was no leverage; no equal balance. This thing between Damon and me makes me understand what Mom meant when she always used to talk about giving up her dreams to be with Dad. I still want to travel, but right now none of that matters. Being with Damon is more important.

  Why explore the rest of the world when the person who makes it go ’round is the man standing in front of me?

  That’d be totally romantic to say aloud if Damon wasn’t holding a silicone dildo ready to shove in my ass right about now.

  Damon throws it on the bed and moves to the bedside table for lube and condoms. Then he reaches back and removes his shirt.

  “Finally, we get to the good part,” I say. When he drops his pants and boxers and steps out of them, I sit up and take his hard cock in my hand. As I go to wrap my mouth around it, he stops me.

  “I’ve already had that pleasure tonight. This is about you.” He pushes me down on my back and lands beside me, pulling my hip toward him so we’re facing each other on our sides.

  Warmth spreads along our naked skin. His mouth covers mine, and our tongues tangle as a callused hand runs down my back. Even years after his baseball career ended, he still has rough hands. I can’t hold back the moan when his finger slips into my crease and presses against my hole. Ever since I told him I was into ass play, he goes there every chance he gets. I half-suspect he’s been preparing me for this—easing me into the idea. I now crave the pressure there, and when he hits that spot inside me, I swear sex has never been that awesome. But it’ll be different this time. More.

  When his finger leaves me, I let out an unmanly whimper. I cover it by grunting—deep and guttural.

  Damon knows what I’m doing and chuckles. “Just a sec, baby.”

  The telltale sound of the lube cap opening has my cock leaking precum. Hmm, interesting. I’ve developed a Pavlovian response to lube.

  I don’t have time to dwell on that because Damon’s back, his mouth on mine and his fingers sliding inside me.

  “Goddamn it, sonofamotherfucking fucker,” I ramble.

  Damon smiles against my mouth. “I love when you don’t make sense.”

  Something takes over me, and I officially have no control over my hips which thrust forward. Our cocks bump and rub against each other, and it’s
so, so good—too good.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Too fucking close.”

  His fingers slip out of me, and it gives me time to catch my breath. He fiddles with the lube again, and then the cool, soft feel of silicone trails down my ass. Forget catching my breath; I’ve forgotten how to breathe entirely.

  “I’ll go slow,” Damon murmurs.

  I tense to brace myself.

  “Need to relax or it’ll hurt.”

  I nod.

  “Maddy, you’re still tense. Kiss me.”

  Our mouths distract me from the pressure between my ass cheeks as Damon inserts the toy inch by inch. The sting of stretching makes my arousal waver, but I know if I breathe through it it’ll be worth it as soon as—

  “Oh fuck.” It brushes against my prostate, and even with the sting still there, I want more.

  Instead of moving it, though, Damon leaves it in me and moves his hand in between us, gripping our cocks together and stroking in slow pulls.

  My chest rises and falls in shallow pants, and my face and skin burn up.

  “You’re so hot when you’re turned on,” Damon says and tightens his grip.

  “You mean when you’re trying to fucking kill me.” I throw my head back enjoying the fullness in my ass and Damon’s hand on my cock. “Fucking hell.”

  “I know you’re close when you start dropping too many F-bombs.” His hand releases us and goes back to the toy. He moves it in and out slowly, and I can feel him watching me for a reaction. “Does it hurt?”

  I shake my head vigorously. “Fuck no.”

  He continues to torture me with it—in the best way possible—until I’m breathing so heavy I can’t talk. “Can you take more?”

  The same time I go to answer, he pushes the dildo back inside me harder. “Yes!” Fuck, yes. I can’t tell if it’s my mouth or my head that chants “More, more, more.”

  “Roll over,” Damon whispers.

  I shudder in anticipation as I turn over onto my hands and knees. Staring at him over my shoulder, I watch as he rubbers up and covers his cock in lube.

  “Still with me?” Damon asks.

  “Hurry up and fuck me, jackass.”

  Damon laughs, and in one swift move, he removes the toy from my ass and lines up his cock. He pushes in, and I tense against the invasion. He’s a lot bigger. I take a deep breath.

  “Babe?”

  “I’m okay,” I choke out. “How far in are you?”

  “Just the tip.”

  “Fuck. Okay.” Another deep breath. I can do this.

  Damon doesn’t push in any father but starts massaging my ass and lower back, trying to get me to relax. He squirts more lube in my crease, and it works enough for him to slide in a bit more. His groan has my cock twitching. The poor thing is confused. It doesn’t know whether to be turned on or go flaccid from the pain in my ass.

  “I can stop,” Damon says.

  “No, don’t.” I’m anything if not determined. “Keep going slow.” I close my eyes tight and rest my head on my forearm.

  Just when I think this isn’t going to work, Damon reaches that glorious spot deep inside me. The stretching pain diminishes as Damon’s hips roll in small, shallow thrusts, making his cock rub over my prostate over and over again.

  “More.”

  “You sure?” Damon asks.

  “Yes. I need …” The words die as Damon tests out a bigger thrust. It feels so fucking good. “Keep going,” I pant.

  Damon keeps moving in and out of me, slowly picking up his pace.

  “Fuuuuck,” I grunt.

  “So hot. Tight.” His voice is strained.

  “I …” I can’t form words. Nope. Brain is gone. Words no longer exist. I’ll be lucky if I can grunt like a caveman.

  “What do you need?” Damon asks. “You need me to touch you?”

  Fuck, yes. Friction on my dick is exactly what I need, but I can’t do it myself. My fingers are scrunched in the bedsheets, holding on for dear life while Damon’s hips piston and thrust deeper. The pain is completely gone and replaced with a growing need for more. More touching, more fucking, more, more, more.

  Apparently, I’m a greedy bottom. Interesting.

  I have no idea if my “Yes” comes out aloud or not, but Damon reaches around me and starts stroking in time with his thrusts which are now frantic and needy.

  Every time he slams into me, pleasure zaps down my spine. Heat pools in my groin, and my balls draw up tight.

  “Maddy,” Damon warns. He’s close.

  We’re on the edge together, both trying not to let go. I explode first, my orgasm taking me by surprise. I shoot everywhere—the bed, Damon’s hand, and my stomach.

  “Oh, thank God,” Damon says and shudders above me.

  When he’s done convulsing, he collapses onto my back. Unable to hold both our weights, thanks to my muscles wobbling like Jell-O, I fall in a heap onto the mattress.

  Damon rolls off me onto his back, breathing heavy, and I wince when his cock leaves me. Yup, gonna be sore tomorrow, but right now I couldn’t care less.

  “I don’t think I’ve come harder in my life,” I mutter.

  “I know I haven’t. Or maybe it’s been too long. I don’t remember what sex feels like.” Damon’s chest glistens with sweat as it rises and falls in fast breaths.

  “I … uh, should clean up, but I can’t move.”

  “Five more minutes,” Damon mumbles. He doesn’t even get up to ditch the condom. Just ties it off and dumps it next to the bed.

  “Okay.”

  Only …

  “Babe,” Damon whispers.

  “Gothefuckaway,” I slur.

  “We fell asleep.”

  “Then why are you waking me?” I grumble.

  “Shower, then work. It’s morning.”

  “You fucked me into a coma.”

  “Uhh, yeah, good luck getting all that cum off you now it’ll be dry and gross.”

  “Damn it.”

  The ache in my ass makes me flinch when I climb out of bed.

  “Are you okay?” Damon asks.

  “Never better,” I say, downplaying it. I make my way to the bathroom to get the hot water running while I take a piss. My body aches everywhere, but it’s not all unpleasant. When Damon joins me in the shower, he steps up behind me, and his hands massage over my shoulders and down my back. I moan and throw my head back on his shoulder while he continues to massage my tired muscles.

  “If I get a massage every time you dick me out, it should become a nightly occurrence.”

  His lips land on my neck. “I’m okay with that arrangement. Your ass probably won’t be, though.”

  “Right. Umm … will it always take that long to uh …”

  “Adjust? Nah. Now you know what you’re expecting, it’ll be easier to relax and let it happen. Are you sore?”

  “A little.”

  “Will a blowjob help?”

  “Help my ass?” I ask with a laugh. “Probably not. But there’s no way I’m saying no.”

  Damon spins me so I’m pinned against the wall of the shower, and he sinks to his knees. Just like the first night I hooked up with Damon, I wait to become uncomfortable or for that feeling of wanting to escape. It’s like I’m expecting it to hit me each time I try something new with him. But as I stare down at him, with his gorgeous mouth wrapped around my cock and his big green eyes watching me in amusement as I can’t control my moans, all I can think is I could definitely get used to this.

  ***

  I take a sip of my wine and stare at the woman who gave birth to me. I’m happy I’ve gotten to know her these past couple of weeks, but I still don’t see her as anything other than my crazy aunt. And I still have so many questions.

  “Do you know anything about my birth father at all?”

  Cheri plays with the cloth napkin in her lap. “He said his name was Jimmy.”

  “Of course. Couldn’t have been something random that might not be hard to track down like …”


  “Rumpelstiltskin?”

  I laugh. “Right.”

  “Would you really want to find him if we could track him down? I tried when I found out I was pregnant, but I had nothing to go on.”

  I shrug. “I dunno. Probably not. Wouldn’t mind knowing if there were any genetic problems I’d have to be aware about. What if Jimmy’s an alcoholic with diabetes who has a heart condition? Shouldn’t I know these things?”

  Cheri sighs. “As someone with a permanent illness, I don’t think you should worry about that stuff. When it happens, you deal with it. Don’t spend your life being scared of something that may or may not happen.”

  “That’s good advice.” I take another sip of wine when my phone vibrates in my pocket. “Sorry, I should check that.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Damon:

  Fun fact. Walking into an empty apartment and yelling SURPRISE when no one’s home isn’t as fun as you’d think it would be. Where are you?

  Now there’s a visual.

  Maddox:

  Thought you were working late? I’m at dinner with Cheri.

  Damon:

  Damn. I guess it’s my turn to wait for you to get home.

  “Is that Damon?” Cheri asks.

  “I’m grinning like an idiot, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah. You are.” She matches my smile. “He makes you happy, and that’s a good thing, hon.”

  Damon:

  Okay, I’m officially bored already. How do you do it?

  I snort. “Sorry. I’ll just text him back to say I’ll be home in an hour.”

  “We can leave now if you like?”

  “You haven’t even touched your soup yet.” I’ve devoured my dinner, though.

  “It takes a while to eat these days. Too fast and it comes back up again. Plus, the medication is screwing with my appetite. I could sit here and nurse this bowl of soup all night.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. Can I get you anything? I feel like I’m not doing enough. I can come to doctor’s appointments with you. Or I can—”