Page 80 of Rory Rides Her Fake Fiancé
“What do you aim for, a two-to-one ratio?” I tease.
“I can absolutely make you come two more times before me.”
“That makes you an anomaly among men,” I say, breath catching when he circles my clit. His eyes are watching his fingers. “You’d be shocked how many guys I’ve been with who’ve considered the night over without even one orgasm for me.”
“I would not be shocked. I was one of those guys back in my youth. Mostly because I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was doing in the beginning, just too eager to get my rocks off.”
I snort at the euphemism, and Morgan retaliates with a hard circle on my clit before he backs off.
“Being a bartender in a small ski town has its perks,” he continues. He glances up to meet my gaze. “Do you want to hear this? Or would you prefer not to know about my past?”
“Tell me.” I don’t even hesitate. I want to know what made Morgan who he is.
“Well, back when I was a young hotshot,” he says, in a mocking tone, “I happened to take a woman home from the bar who was maybe a decade older than me. I finished and she looked at me and said, ‘That’s it?’ and boy, if that isn’t a hit to a man’s ego.”
I shift my hips. Morgan’s light touch on my body is building me up in this achingly slow torture. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“No one had ever complained, but now I realize that most women don’t realize they should complain. The bar for guys is so fucking low. So I made it my mission to single-handedly tackle the orgasm gap.” He chuckles, and it’s self-deprecating. Then his eyes twinkle. “That and I really fucking like eating pussy.”
I close my eyes and tilt my head back. Even through the building haze of an impending orgasm, I can see it. Morgan’s so desperate to be loved, to be wanted. It shows in the way he charms everyone, even the most difficult people, like my grandmother. It’s how he broke through my defenses, even when I didn’t want to let anyone in.
“I’m not going to complain about your sex-god origin story,” I gasp out, and he laughs.
I feel the blanket beneath me tug and then Morgan’s warm breath on my neck as he kisses the hollow. His thumb replaces his fingers and he circles my entrance. I spread my legs even farther and he pushes in. His pinkie and pointer slide down the seam of my legs while his middle two fingers curl inside me.
“I love the way you move,” he says into my skin. “The way you ride my cock, my tongue. The way you’re riding my hand.”
Before it was teasing, now he’s determined. He finds just the right spot inside me, driving me wild from both sides. When my hips rise up, his other arm snakes behind me, keeping me lifted. He moves his whole hand, thumb against my clit, fingers fucking into me. It’s rough and aggressive and it drives me right up and over the edge until I’m crying out and clamping down on his hand. He doesn’t stop until I push him away.
Morgan disappears, and I swipe the back of my hand over my forehead, wiping away the sheen of sweat. The sky is a deep indigo now, the first stars popping out above us. There’s the crinkle of the condom wrapper and then Morgan’s back, easing inside me, and this time is slow and steady, Morgan holding himself above me, kissing me, until the sky is full of stars and we’re both completely spent.
Rory
* * *
It’s supposed to be an easy week for me. I don’t have to drive anywhere until Wednesday, so I have an extra day with Morgan. Not that long ago I would have been spending my extra time with Grandma, and I feel a twinge of guilt in my gut before I remind myself that Grandma and I need a life outside of each other. We need friends, and even if Morgan is a fake fiancé, something about this feels real.
The night we spent up on the mountain unleashed something insatiable, because I spend Tuesday morning not working and instead we completely scandalize both pets by fucking all over the house until Morgan has to leave to open the bar.
Wednesday I drive to Long Island and the repair I’m supposed to work on goes sideways. I am out on the line Thursday night, keeping both me and my software guy working late, and the solution evades us until Saturday afternoon, so I’m late getting back to Here and I pull into On the Rocks at its busiest to give Morgan a quick hello and wolf down some tots while sitting out in the back—the only place with free seats because it’s getting too cold.
I’m asleep before Morgan gets home that night, but in the morning, as I try to slip out, he pulls me back into bed, facedown, and crawls on top of me. We break out one of the vibrators and I come around his cock while he spreads my ass cheeks and watches.
My post-orgasm bliss doesn’t last very long though, because I go alone to Grandma’s apartment and she’s in a foul mood. We have lunch and she complains about everything and gets in a fight with a woman at the table next to us, which ends in her making a rude gesture and me dragging us both out before management can come and deal with her.
The last thing I need is for her to get kicked out of a very expensive community. I bet they don’t refund your deposit if you have to leave for bad behavior.
Not that Grandma has to worry about getting her deposit back. Today is one of the checkbook balancing days, and that always culminates in us reviewing her investments too—is she sweeping enough income into her checking to cover her living expenses? Do we need to move money in or out?
I hesitate. Grandma’s bank balance has been unusually high for the past few months because there’s one outstanding check that’s waiting to be cashed—mine.
“What?” Grandma bites out. We’re sitting side by side at her computer, as usual, with Grandma watching over my shoulder even though she can’t see much because her glasses are on top of her head and her eyesight is gradually getting worse. Honestly, I’m not sure why she has a computer anymore. I’ve restricted a lot of it to try to avoid her accidentally clicking on things, but at some point it might just be easier to switch to one of those simple tablets for kids and the elderly.
“Nothing,” I say.
Grandma’s been here for five months now, and this lie that Morgan and I have told is going to have to resolve somehow. When we cooked up this scheme, I was only thinking about getting Grandma off my back about being single and alone. But now, I wonder how long we can keep it going. Could Morgan be the reason we stay in Here? Is that what I want?
“You haven’t cashed the check yet.” Grandma’s words have a finality to it. She already knows, and her voice holds the early warning signs I remember as a kid, the portender of getting in trouble. “It could be doing you some good. By now it should have been used to make a deposit on the venue, or a caterer, or even if you elope, at least it could have bought you a nice dress and a photographer. But instead that money sits in my bank account doing nothing because you never intended to marry Morgan at all!”
