Page 11 of The Fake Husband
He makes it sound so damn easy.
"Nadine, listen, I?—"
The words die on his tongue as I grab the back of his neck and pull him down to me.
This kiss is different from the dinner kiss. That one started as just performance, then became something else. This one starts as my decision, then stays there. River reads the difference in half a second, and with a groan, his hands find my waist and pull me flush against him.
My brain stops working because not only does he deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue into my mouth, but because I can feel a hard ridge pressing against my stomach. Hard, thick, and long.
Oh, dear God.
I break the kiss to whisper, "We do this, River, and we stop being just friends."
River chuckles darkly and nips my earlobe. "I never wanted you as just a friend, Nadine."
Whoosh! That's the air escaping from my punctured body. Figuratively, not literally.
But literally, I'm sure some kind of magnetic current is now slithering and swirling through my system, making my core clench. God, I need him so much. Breathe, girl. A slow breath leaves me, and it comes out different than it went in—heavier, uneven, carrying something I have been keeping in a locked drawer. Somewhere inside, where I dare not visit.
We crash again into each other, tongues tangling, hands everywhere. He tugs on my silk sleeveless blouse, and I lift it over my head to throw to the floor. The skirt is easier. I shimmy out of it and kick it away, leaving me in nothing but a pair of new black lace underwear.
I bought it on a whim the day before we had to leave. I did not expect to end up like this with River, but I guess a part of me desperately hoped.
"Fucking beautiful."
River's words and tone do something to me. I have never heard him curse, never heard this particular timbre in his voice. Somehow, that emboldens me.
"Off," I tell him, unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckling his pants until they pool around the ankles.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. He really is big and thick. There's still one layer of clothing preventing me from seeing him completely, but I can tell just how gifted he is in the penis department.
Before he can even move, I drop to my knees until his bulge is at my eye level.
"Nadine…"
I ignore him. Instead, I tug his boxers down, freeing him; his cock juts proudly against his stomach. Veiny. He's veiny, too. I look up at him from under my lashes and wrap a hand around his thick length, earning me a hiss and a groan.
"Fuck, Nad."
With slow strokes, I pump him twice before I stick out my tongue and lick the head. River tosses his head back and scrubs both hands across his face.
I take that as a sign that I'm doing a good job. Both hands wrap around him, stroking him, while I take the rest in my mouth, sucking and licking the pre-cum beading at the tip. God, he tastes good.
I've barely gotten into a rhythm when he pulls me up and tosses me to the bed. Before I can ask him what he's doing, River kneels on the floor and jerks my legs to the edge, and peels my underwear away with his teeth.
"River, what?—"
He presses my panties to his face, "Mmmm. Sweet." He inhales deeply. "Now, to taste your pussy."
One second, I'm lying on the soft mattress, and the next, I feel his warm tongue along my slit as he drags it from my entrance to my clit.
"Oh God, River."
He uses his thumbs to part my folds as he presses open-mouthed kisses between them, sliding up and down, then lightly sucks on my clit. My back bows off the bed, and I clutch the sheets in both hands, my toes curl.
"Your fucking pussy tastes so good."
Words I never thought I'd hear from River, but it's effective at setting my body on fire. He stretches me open further, his hands on my thighs, as he devours me like a starving man on a buffet. Slurping greedily, even.
