Pretend We're Over

by Ella Miles

  She moves to set the wine glass down on the table, but that’s not where I want the wine glass. It’s where I want her.

  I sweep our dishes onto the floor. The clatter barely registers in my brain. I’m no longer in control; that’s what happens when I become addicted. And I’m about to surrender all of my control to Millie.

  I grab her hips and lift her up onto the table as I spread her legs and step between them. She finally sets the glass down behind her, less destructive and more in control than I am, and then she grabs my shirt, lifting it over my head. I work the buttons on her jeans and begin to pull them off.

  “You know dresses give me better access,” I say.

  “I hate dresses, but if you promise me more orgasms if I wear them, then maybe I’ll start.”

  I grin and then yank her pants and panties off before kneeling between her legs. Her eyes grow big as they watch me study her so intimately and closely.

  I love every inch of her body. Every curve. Every freckle. Every imperfection. She doesn’t try to hide who she is; she just is.

  I grab her thighs, and then I plunge my tongue between her folds. She tastes so sweet, already drenched for me. But I want to give her as many orgasms as I can tonight. I remember how she screamed my name last time, and that sound is an addicting melody to me.

  I try to slow my pace as I lick between her folds and find her clit. But I can’t. Every pant she makes, every moan, every cry that brings her closer to orgasm is feeding my own addiction.

  And then she’s gripping my hair, screaming my name, as she comes around my tongue.

  One orgasm isn’t enough; I want more. So immediately I start licking again.

  “Sebastian, I want your cock. Please.”

  I grin. She’s right. I need to give her more than just my tongue.

  I stand and shove her shirt up, needing to taste her breasts as her fingers fumble against my zipper.

  Her nipples are hard and pointed. She’s not wearing a bra beneath her shirt. I’m not even sure if the woman owns a bra, which makes me happy.

  “Please,” Millie says again, her voice full of need as she grabs at my hips.

  I lean in close to her mouth as my tongue traces her full lips. “Be careful what you ask for, Millie. Once I start again, I won’t stop.”

  Her cheeks blush. “Good, I don’t want you to stop.”

  I pull a condom out of my back pocket before I push my jeans down. I sheath myself and barely push at her entrance, waiting.

  “Fuck me, Sebastian. Show me how good it feels to be fucked by a King. Remind me what it’s like to be claimed by a man who’s addicted to me.”

  I give her a devilish grin. “You think you know what it felt like to be fucked by me before, but you have no idea. I was holding back. This time I’ll give you everything.”

  I slam into her body with my last word so hard that the table she’s lying on shakes roughly, her arms raise over her head, pushing back against the floor to ceiling window behind her to keep from slamming her head into the glass. I might have gone too far already.

  But when the seductive gleam returns to her eyes, I know that she likes this new roughness. This animalistic desire to fuck her no matter the consequences. The uncontrollable nature of not even being able to make it to the bed down the hallway before I have her.

  I thrust into her again, this thrust just as punishing as the first.

  “More!” Millie screams.

  Again I thrust, somehow sinking deeper into her, before pulling all the way out and doing it again and again. The wine glass shakes roughly next to her on the table.

  Alcohol used to be my addiction, but I beat it. I got clean and healthy. Millie is my new one, but I’m not sure I’ll ever want to beat this new addiction.

  I grab the glass and lift it to my lips.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice more panicked now that I hold the glass in my hand than when I started fucking her.

  “I’m not going to drink.”

  She exhales.

  “Technically, I already broke my sobriety the night we got married. And then again when Oaklee forced me to drink, but I haven’t since. I have no desire to drink.”

  I bring the glass to her lips and pour the wine over them, letting a little spill out. I trace the cool liquid down her breasts over her nipples that somehow harden even more at my touch.

  Then I lean down and kiss her. “You’re my new addiction.”

  One final thrust sends us both over the edge into our orgasms. Millie screams my name as pleasure overcomes her senses. I roar my own ecstasy. I slow my thrusts, but at the last thrust, the table creaks.

  Millie grabs my arms, and I catch her hips, but it’s too late, and we tumble to the floor in a pile of broken wood.

  “Oh my god,” we both laugh. This destruction feels as much an end as a new beginning. A table that I’ve sat at thousands of times is now gone. My routine and control—gone.

  We keep laughing, my head resting against her chest as we lie naked in the rubble. But it won’t stop me from wanting her again and again and again.

  “You said you were a night owl?”

  She nods.

  “Do you have anywhere to be?”

  “No.”

  “Good, because tonight I’m going to feed my addiction until you tell me to stop.”

  “What if I never tell you to stop?”

  I shudder, because the answer scares me.

  “Then, I’ll never stop.”

  30

  Millie

  I pant hard, still not having caught my breath as I lie naked on top of the covers in Sebastian’s penthouse bedroom. The sun has started peeking up over the buildings. We haven’t slept one second. All we’ve done is fuck.

  On the dining room table we broke.

  The couch.

  Against the wall.

  In his bed.

  We’ve fucked everywhere.

  I didn’t believe Sebastian at first when he said he’d get addicted, when he said that’s why he only fucks women one time. He’s afraid of what will happen if he has too much of a good thing.

  I understand now. But there is no way I want this to stop. It’s too good. I don’t want to let him go.

  I glance over at him. His hard chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his own breath. I let my eyes wander down his ribbed abs, down to his glorious cock. I’ve never been with a man who reads my body so well, who can anticipate my desires before I even realize them myself.

  Sebastian starts to roll over toward me. He cups my head in his hands and presses a kiss against my lips.

  I moan into the kiss. We have to stop.

  “Sebastian, we should talk,” I say. There is no way we can fuck again. It’s not physically possible to go again. And yet, I feel him growing hard against my stomach, and my own wetness spills between my legs as he continues to kiss me.

  He laughs when I push against his chest.

  “I know, let’s talk. But you’re going to have to do it while we shower, I have to get to work.”

  I blink at him rapidly. “You’re still going to work? You didn’t sleep at all.”

  He pulls me out of bed as we walk naked toward his large shower, complete with a rain shower head and a dozen other nozzles that all point in different directions. He turns one of the knobs, and the rain shower head comes on before he turns back to me.

  “If I don’t go to work, I’m going to want to stay and keep fucking you. And as incredible as that sounds, I know that I’ve already made you sore enough. Our bodies need a break.”

  He steps into the shower, pulling me with him. When I step in and feel the warm water, I feel the familiar ache, and know that he’s right. We need to stop, and if him going to work is the only way, then fine.

  “So, I’m guessing our one night only deal went out the window?” I tease as he grabs the shampoo bottle. He squeezes some in his hand and then massages it into my scalp.

  “I want to fuck you every day u
ntil we decide that our marriage is over,” Sebastian says.

  I exhale. Fucking Sebastian every day for the next five in a half months seems like heaven. Until he decides the pretending is over, then it will be hell.

  “And when our marriage is over, how are you going to handle your uh…addiction problem? I don’t want to be responsible for you becoming an alcoholic or something again.” Maybe we can keep fucking even after we are no longer married.

  He shakes his head. “I won’t go back to drinking. I’ll go through my usual process when it’s time to break up. I’ll do the therapy and detoxing.”

  “You’ll detox yourself of me? How will that even work?” I ask as he tilts my head back to wash the shampoo from my hair. How does this feel more intimate than anything else we’ve done all night?

  “I’ll get rid of everything that reminds me of you. I’ll give myself some time away from any of our mutual friends. I won’t look you up on social media. I’ll need a full break when this is over. It should be easy for our friends to understand since they think we will be going through a real divorce.”

  I nod. A complete break, cold turkey. That’s what he’s asking for. It’s probably for the best.

  “Okay. I can do that,” I say.

  And then he’s running a bar of soap over my body, and I can barely think. My body tingles everywhere he touches.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  But I have no idea what he’s talking about as his hand runs over my breast and down the front of my stomach. I’m seeing stars, and thinking of all the times he touched me last night.

  “Millie?” He chuckles at my reaction.

  “Hmm?”

  He laughs and removes his hands and starts washing himself, which is just as distracting as having his hands on me.

  “What about you? What do you need from me to make this work?” he asks again.

  I pause. I need this to end right now before I fall head over heels in love with him.

  “Just keep being an asshole when you can outside of the bedroom, so I remember that we aren’t right for each other. Point out all our differences. This is just good sex, that’s it.”

  He nods slowly. “Just good sex. Trust me, I’d make a terrible boyfriend. And an even more terrible husband. I work all day, have a rigid routine, and then would fuck you all night. You wouldn’t get any sleep. It would be a horrible life.”

  “Horrible,” I repeat his words under my breath. But it doesn’t sound horrible. It sounds amazing. I’ve already experienced one night of his rigid routine, and it involved him cooking for me. And the lack of sleep doesn’t bother me if it means I get all the orgasms. What could be bad about this life?

  Sebastian steps under the water, washes the soap off his body, and then steps out to wrap himself in a towel while I gape.

  “So what are you going to do today while I’m at work? Are you working tonight? I never got a clear answer on what job it is you are currently doing.”

  It’s because I was fired from my last job, and I’m currently unemployed, but that’s too embarrassing to talk about.

  “I’m going over to Oaklee’s to chat a bit. I’ll convince her we’re in love but are nervous we jumped in too fast, so when we get a divorce, she’ll accept it. And I’ll see if she’ll spill any more details about how we decided to get married in the first place.”

  “Good idea. You can also arrange to have your stuff moved in,” Sebastian says with the towel wrapped low around his hips as he walks to the closet to get dressed.

  Yea, except I already moved all my stuff in, he just doesn’t realize it yet. He’s truly a king, and I’m a pauper. There is no way this could ever be real. I have nothing to offer him but sex. I have no career. No money. No furniture. All I come with is a lot of baggage.

  I turn off the shower and am wrapping a towel around my body when Sebastian comes back into the bathroom with a scowl on his face. He thrusts my phone at me.

  “We need to talk about your stalking ex.”

  I look down at the phone and see the text threats from an unknown number. I take the phone and hit delete, blocking yet another new number from my ex.

  Sebastian tucks a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry, we will find a way to handle him. We should go hang out with our friends tonight publicly, make a big splash so that news spreads to him, and he realizes he doesn’t have a chance with you.”

  I nod.

  “He’s not dangerous, is he?”

  “No, he would never hurt me. He just wants me back.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen. You’re mine.”

  “What can I get you two to drink?” the waitress asks.

  “Two white wines,” I say, looking to Oaklee for clarification. We have shared many meals at this restaurant before, and we almost always enjoy our salads while sharing a bottle of white wine.

  “Actually, uh, just water for me,” Oaklee says.

  I stare at her like she’s just grown horns. I don’t ever recall Oaklee turning down wine, which only signals I’m going to need alcohol to get through this conversation.

  “Just the one glass then,” I say, and the waitress leaves. I lean in across the booth. “Spill.”

  “What? You know I’m pregnant, I want to hear about how your honeymoon went. And how you’re living with a gazillionaire in his incredible penthouse.”

  I did not know she was pregnant. She must have told me the night of our wedding. I attempt to wipe the shock off my face and distract her with an innocuous question.

  “How do you know Sebastian is a gazillionaire?

  Oaklee rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows.”

  I sigh. “Stop trying to distract me. You already know how the honeymoon went and living together is great, but we are so different, and everything moved so fast. I’m not sure it’s going to work out. Just look at you and Boden. You’ve been together forever, and it didn’t work out.”

  Oaklee turns somber.

  “Are you two back together?”

  “No.”

  “The baby is his, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I nod, assuming already that it was. There is no way she could have fucked another man and found out she was pregnant by him after the wedding. And she’s not a cheater.

  “I know it would be better if we had gotten married, but I just couldn’t…” She stares down at the glass of water in front of her, and I notice the tears watering her eyes.

  “Oh, Oaklee.” I run around to her side and hold her again, holding her head against my chest. “It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be better than alright. You are going to have a baby. You’ve always wanted a baby, and you’re going to make a great mom.”

  I stroke her back as she sobs a little. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He wasn’t supposed to cheat. He wasn’t supposed to hurt me. After I saw them together, I just couldn’t go through with the wedding. I can’t be married to a cheater.”

  I nod. “Of course, you can’t.”

  Oaklee sits up slowly, and I wipe the tears from her eyes.

  “Don’t,” she says.

  I frown and pull my hands into my lap. “Why not?”

  “Because I have more to say.” She doesn’t have to finish her sentence for me to know the rest of her sentence is going to hurt me. She has the same expression she did when she told me in the fifth grade that she accidentally killed my fish she was watching for me while I was on vacation.

  “Sebastian was the one who set Boden up. He got him drunk. He found the women. He bought the hotel rooms. He’s the reason Boden cheated.”

  I suck in a breath—asshole. But then, I already knew that. I know that Sebastian helped his friend cheat. And yet, it seems so out of character for Sebastian. It seems strange he would throw away ten years of sobriety on one night that led to his friend cheating.

  I wish more than anything I could remember that night. I wish I could remember the events that led to Sebastian and I getting drunk, get
ting married, fucking in our hotel room. I wish I could remember it all because I know that there has to be an explanation for it all.

  As much as I want to pretend that Sebastian is a pretentious jerk, deep down I don’t think that’s who he really is. But maybe I’m wrong? Maybe he can hide his true self when his cock is deep inside me, and his thumb is playing with my clit?

  “I just think you should be careful where Sebastian is concerned.”

  “I get it. I’ll be careful.” I look away from Oaklee as I try to remember what happened. I try to reconcile the man who saved me and shares a bed with me with the man who would get drunk and help his friend cheat.

  “Wait…” I say, as I realize something. “How long have you known you were pregnant?”

  “Since two weeks before the wedding.”

  “So, at the bachelorette party and after the wedding, you weren’t drinking?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I replaced a lot of the wine and champagne with sparkling apple juice.”

  “So, the alcohol you made us drink in the limo wasn’t really alcohol?”

  “Correct.”

  “How drunk were Sebastian and I the night we got married?” I ask, hopeful that maybe Sebastian didn’t actually drink. Maybe it was all a false assumption, and there is another reason we don’t remember.

  Oaklee shrugs. “You seemed pretty drunk.”

  I sigh. Nothing about that night makes sense to me. I stare down at my wedding ring. But it led me to an incredible guy. One I would have never spent time with if it wasn’t for our mistakes that night. So I don’t regret it, even if I have to give him up eventually.

  Still, I should tell Sebastian what I know about that night, about not drinking in the limo. At least that will make him feel better and might trigger something about that night for him.

  Right now, though, I have to be a friend. Sebastian may not be in my life for much longer, but Oaklee will be in my life forever.

  I hug her again. “Come out with us tonight.”

  She smiles. “I’d love to. I want to see and hear all the stories about how you and Mr. Filthy Rich ended up together.”