Forty Day Fiancé

by Erin McCarthy

  “God, you feel good,” I murmured when she broke away for a second, sliding her hands down my chest. She had a tight, small ass that fit in both of my hands easily, and firm thighs. I’d never thought of myself as having a type. I found a lot of women attractive for various reasons.

  But there was something about Felicia that had me impatient, raw. I wanted to pin her down, yank her legs up, and drive into her with hard, pounding strokes.

  Fighting the urge to do that, I drew my thumb across her bottom lip. “You’re beautiful. But then, you already know that. So what I’d like to say instead is that I find you absolutely fascinating, Felicia.”

  She had dark eyes that revealed little other than desire. “I’ll allow that,” she said, the corner of her mouth turning up in a seductive smile.

  The classic femme fatale in a spy movie. That’s what she reminded me of.

  Which meant I was probably about to have amazing sex, and then she’d betray me. I was willing to take the risk.

  Reaching behind my head I yanked off my T-shirt. I wanted to feel her skin against mine. I bent down and kissed her again, shifting to taste and tease down the hollow of her elegant neck, and across her clavicle, shifting her sweater aside. She smelled faintly of a spicy perfume that reminded me of a European tea shop.

  Her fingers explored, brushing across my chest, over to my biceps, squeezing lightly. Every second of the fucking one million hours I’d spent in the gym were worth that moment of feeling like she approved. She gave a low moan in the back of her throat.

  “You’re very hard,” she murmured.

  “That I am.” In every sense of the word.

  Easing my hands up to her waist, I slipped under her sweater. Her skin was cool, soft, her waist dipping in. I kept shifting my touch further north as I kissed her earlobe, pulling it between my teeth and giving a small nip. Her grip on my biceps tightened, nails digging into my flesh.

  I only briefly brushed over her breasts. That wasn’t my goal right now. I just wanted her sweater off. Gathering the fabric, I pulled back so I could shift it up and over her head. She shook her hair back off of her face as I gently tossed the sweater onto a leather chair I had in the corner of the room behind me. She was all creamy pale flesh and dark hair tumbling in waves over her skin.

  Tracing a path with my hands over her shoulders, I eased the straps of her bra down. She didn’t have a huge chest, but her tits were high and rounded in her red sheer and lace bra. Of course it would be red. She seemed like a woman who was always wearing sexy panties and bras and this proved it. Today had been a regular workday for her and here she was wearing underwear that made a man want to sin. They looked expensive as well. Felicia had good taste, but I already knew that.

  Bending over, I kissed the soft flesh above the cup of her bra. She sighed in clear pleasure. I brushed my lips lower, over her nipple, teasing it into my mouth through the fabric. It was so sheer it was barely a barrier and I sucked on the taut bud, gripping her hips.

  When I pulled back briefly to shift to the other nipple, her head was back, her eyes drifting closed.

  “I feel that where it counts,” she said, sounding breathy and aroused.

  That made me laugh softly. “Good. You should.”

  I reached around her slim body and unhooked her bra. I tossed it behind me to join her sweater. Then I walked her back to the bed, scooped her up and deposited her in the middle of my mattress. I needed to see all of her and those tight jeans needed to be peeled off from a prone position instead of standing.

  Before I joined her, I did unbutton my jeans but kept them zipped and pulled open my nightstand for a condom.

  She was waiting patiently for me, one knee slightly lifted, as she rested on her elbows, topless. It was a pose, whether intentional or just instinctual from her modeling days. At either rate, it was sexy as hell and nearly destroyed my plans to take this slow, fully seduce her. It made me want to yank her pants down and drive my cock inside her.

  I climbed onto the bed and put my knees on either side of hers, invading her space.

  “You’re overdressed for this party,” I told her as I popped the snap on her jeans and took the zipper down.

  “Damn, I just hate it when I incorrectly gauge the dress code,” she said. “So embarrassing.”

  Peeling the jeans off was not quite the project I’d expected but wasn’t a three-second job either. It took some effort. “I’m happy to help.”

  “Such the gentleman again.”

  “I have my moments.”

  “I can’t wait to see your transformation into dirty bastard.”

  If she had any idea what I wanted to do to her, she would probably run.

  Then again, maybe she wouldn’t.

  Easing her panties down I shifted lower so I could flip my tongue over her clit and ease inside her pussy.

  Fuck me. She was already wet with want and I drew in the tangy scent of her arousal.

  “Did you want to beg?” I asked her as I pulled back slightly to meet her gaze. “Wasn’t that your fantasy? To beg me to eat your pussy?”

  “I don’t know that it was my fantasy so much as what I thought might be necessary.”

  “Yeah?” I blew warm air onto her clit. I stared at her sex, so pink and juicy and ready for me.

  She shifted a little.

  I massaged my thumbs over her inner thighs, but not touching where she wanted me to touch. The tease was getting a reaction from her.

  “Michael.”

  “Yes?” I let my fingers drift over the folds of her pussy and I ran up and down over the silken smoothness.

  “I thought you said no begging required.”

  She had a point. “You’re right, I did. My apologies.”

  “Oh, no, I want to beg. I just wanted to point that out.”

  Damn. Felicia was fucking amazing.

  I pressed a soft little kiss and sat back, not sure she was serious.

  She was.

  She ran her hands over her tits and down over her flat stomach until she found my head. Her fingers gripped my hair tightly, enough to cause pain.

  Then she said, “Michael, I am begging you with everything inside me, please take me with your tongue. Please run it over my clit and slide it inside my pussy so that I can come. Please. I’ll do anything.”

  I wanted to drag it out, to see how far she would go, but her words made me way too hard and way too desperate to taste her.

  “How can I say no to that?” I asked.

  Then I moved my mouth over her hot tight pussy and gave her what we both wanted.

  Four

  It took everything inside me not to instantly orgasm when Michael finally slid his tongue inside me. He made me so eager, so desperate. I wasn’t one to shy away from a little dirty chatter but I wanted to push it with him. I wanted to be submissive and beg him even some more. I wanted to do things I’d never contemplated before, like call him daddy.

  His touch made me feel like I was drowning, being dragged down under waves of pleasure, where you can’t find the life raft.

  Then I realized he was the life raft.

  I needed to hold on to him.

  I fell back fully onto the bed, gripping his head and let him shatter me.

  It came as a swell, not a quick burst, but a crest that rocked me from the tips of my toes to my scalp.

  The loud cry I gave ripped from my mouth before I could prevent it and didn’t even sound like me. It was wild and free and sensual.

  As I tried to find air to breathe, my thighs relaxing as I came back down off the high, Michael pulled away.

  “That was the hottest fucking thing ever,” he said, his voice fierce.

  He gave me a look that I didn’t entirely understand. I shivered a little under that commanding gaze, the room cold without his body heat over me.

  I expected that he would move inside me, but he didn’t. He ran his hands over my body, his gaze following the path. He started at my head, moved down over my cheeks, my sho
ulders, palming my breasts, pebbling my nipples. It was unexpected, and made me feel oddly cherished. Like we were lovers, in the truest sense.

  He was different from other men and I found that very attractive.

  His exploration continued, down over my hips, over my pussy, which he barely touched. Just that slight skimming though was enough for me to let out a soft moan. The anticipation was both delicious and devastating.

  I needed him to complete me.

  It was a thought that should have given me pause, but it didn’t.

  “I need you inside me,” I said, lifting my hips in an open and obvious invitation.

  “You’re the girl who wants what she wants when she wants it, aren’t you?” Michael took his jeans down and reached for a condom.

  I’d thought I’d outgrown a lot of that trait, but right now I couldn’t argue it because it was true. “And here I thought you’d want the same thing.”

  That should get a reaction and it did. He practically growled.

  “Oh, I do. Trust me, I do.” He took my left leg and hauled it onto his hip.

  For a brief second I thought he was going to tease me further, when without warning, he entered my body on a hot, swift thrust.

  “Yes, that’s brilliant,” I said, closing my eyes briefly, arms drifting up over my head. “You have an amazing cock.”

  He did. I hadn’t got much of a look at it but what I was feeling was everything I could ask for and then some. Thick, pressing deep inside me.

  Michael was moving with a slow, steady rhythm, and watching me, which at first was unnerving. He didn’t close his eyes or look at some spot behind me on the wall. He made full, intense eye contact.

  It caused a myriad of emotions to crash over me. Arousal. Anxiety. The desire to give him a show. I licked my bottom lip slowly, then sank my teeth into it. His nostrils flared. I let my fingertips drift over and tease at my nipples.

  He swore under his breath.

  I raised my hips higher to feel every single inch of him.

  The minutes drew out and I lost any sense of time, just concentrating on holding myself back, staving off my orgasm. My eyes closed, because if I looked at him, I would fall off the edge.

  He knew it. “Open your eyes,” he demanded gruffly. “Look at me when you come. You’re going to come, Felicia, aren’t you?”

  I nodded, throat tight. My inner muscles were clenched down hard on him as I tried to regain control.

  His hand went under my ass and he lifted me off the bed, taking himself as deep inside me as possible.

  Then he didn’t speak, just took me and watched while he did it.

  My orgasm wasn’t like the first. This was sharp, a teeth-grinding, heart-racing split second of ecstasy before it was over.

  He immediately came, and it was obvious he’d been holding off on his own satisfaction to let me orgasm. Ever the gentleman. The thought made me smile.

  Michael sighed and eased himself down onto the bed beside me. “Why does your smile look so devious right now?”

  I turned onto my side. “You give me far too much credit. I was just thinking that it would appear you had waited for me to orgasm before you.”

  His eyebrows rose. “I did. Ladies first. Is that amusing to you?”

  “It’s just that you truly are a gentleman, and yes, for whatever reason I find that amusing. And very, very sexy.”

  “I find you very sexy.”

  He gave me a kiss, then went to remove the condom. He got out of bed and walked to his en suite, clearly comfortable in his own skin, as well he should be. The man was in great shape. I admired him naked as I fluffed a pillow behind me. The question was, what now? He retreated into the bathroom briefly, then returned, a robe in his hand.

  “For you,” he said, draping it across the foot of the bed. “I refuse to let you get fully dressed again while we eat sushi.”

  My cheeks felt warm. Goose bumps rose on my skin. “And why is that?”

  “Because I don’t want you to leave after we eat. I want to convince you for a round two and if I have you in just a robe, I’m stacking the odds in my favor.”

  That amused me. “A man who plans ahead.” I appreciated that he was straightforward. Now I knew how this evening was going to continue and end and that was reassuring. We’d eat, drink a little wine, tumble into bed a second time, then I would take an easy leave, with nothing awkward.

  “I barely got to taste you,” he said, running his gaze over the length of my body as he reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a loose pair of joggers. “I’m definitely planning ahead.”

  That sentence was meant to just be flirtatious, yet it made me sit straight up and reach for the robe, oddly unnerved and no idea why. Or actually, I knew why I just didn’t want to admit it. I already had a crush on him before the sex. Now I knew our chemistry was amazing. It wouldn’t take much for me to fall for him head over ass and that made me panic. “Where is this damn sushi you can’t stop talking about? I’m famished.”

  Easing it around my shoulders, I found my panties clinging to the bottom of the duvet, a splash of red on the white. I slipped them on and stood up, belting the robe tightly. It was cashmere and felt like heaven against my skin. It was cozy, but as I moved, it was tactile and soft and added to the sensuality of the night. Even the idiotic robe was a turn-on.

  It was ridiculous.

  Michael pulled on the joggers without his boxer briefs and then a T-shirt went over his head. It read Stanford across the front.

  “Is that where you went to uni?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Yes. Then med school at Columbia.”

  I knew enough to know both were prestigious.

  “You must have been a good student.”

  “I like a goal. It drives me.”

  Then he surprised me by reaching out and taking my hand. “Come on. I can’t allow a guest to be famished. Let me feed you.”

  He meant it quite literally. As I offered to help as he pulled containers out of his refrigerator, he waved off my gesture.

  “I’ve got it. But here, taste this.” He popped open one of the lids and pulled chopsticks out of the drawer in his kitchen island.

  Quality chopsticks that wouldn’t leave that taste in your mouth like you’d just licked raw wood, which you had.

  He picked up a roll, and before I could see or ask what it was, he had it at my lips. I opened out of instinct and he put the whole thing in my mouth.

  I pulled back, trying to resist, but it was too late. I was forced to chew and swallow. It was tasty, but I shook my head at him. When I could finally speak again, I said, “God, what on earth, Michael? I can’t put that much in my mouth at once.”

  The second the words left my mouth, I realized what I had said.

  His eyebrows rose and he grinned. “No? Well, that’s a fucking shame.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Men and their penis jokes. How utterly predictable.”

  He just laughed. “You would have been disappointed if I hadn’t said it.”

  “I don’t think I would have, actually, but if that makes you feel better, go on and believe that.”

  I wandered over to the sofa with an appetizer plate of sushi and a glass of wine so he wouldn’t feel compelled to shove sashimi into my mouth. The art of oral sex was a different thing entirely from eating uncooked fish. Which didn’t seem possible, but it was true.

  The robe enveloped me and I tucked my feet under it on the sofa. “Are you Jewish?” I asked Michael as he sat down on the sofa next to me.

  He shook his head. “No. Why? Are you?”

  “No. But you haven’t got one single ounce of Christmas in this apartment.”

  “Oh.” He looked around his flat like it had never occurred to him. “I live alone. It seems like a lot of work to decorate for myself. Besides, everywhere I go it’s being crammed down my throat.”

  “Ah, a Scrooge.” I smiled at him to show him I wasn’t serious. “Though I do see your point. My r
oommate and I have a wreath on our door and that’s it, so I suppose I can’t really judge. But that’s mostly due to a lack of space. We live in a closet. I adore Christmas, personally. It’s so cheerful.”

  “I could do a wreath on the door,” he said, but reluctantly.

  It was my turn to laugh. “You don’t have to do anything. I was just curious. This is such a huge space, with all these windows, I would enjoy decorating it. It’s no fun to try to put up a tree in a six-by-eight bedroom like mine.”

  “Isn’t that the standard size of a jail cell?”

  “Most likely. I wouldn’t know though, fortunately.” I picked up another roll and nibbled on it. The caviar on top started to roll off, so I used my tongue to stop its descent into my lap.

  Michael made a sound and I realized I’d inadvertently been sexual.

  So I licked again.

  * * *

  Felicia was lounged causally on the couch in my robe, one leg sprawled out, the other tucked under the cashmere. The robe kept gaping in various places, giving me a glimpse of her red panties or her bare nipples. Her cheeks had a healthy glow from sex and her hair was tousled. The “just fucked” hairstyle.

  I had woken up that morning never once thinking I’d end the day with a hot Brit in my bed, but I had learned to embrace opportunities in my life. So when she used her tongue on the caviar topping her sushi roll, I didn’t even hesitate. I took a swallow of my wine to give her time to chew and then I shifted closer to her.

  I enjoyed talking to Felicia. Casual conversation was easy, natural.

  But right now, I did not want to discuss my lack of holiday décor.

  Easing my robe apart to expose her breasts, I brushed my thumb over one of her nipples. “I’m not trying to rush you, but are you done eating?”

  “How is that not rushing me?” She pushed my chest and gave me a look that went straight to my cock. “A woman is done when she tells you she’s done.”

  Why did that sound so fucking hot? “Understood.” But I didn’t stop teasing at her nipple. Instead, I cupped the small swell of her breast and squeezed, just a little.