He greedily pulls me to him, and kisses me hard. His hands cup my face as his hot kisses seal me to him. My head falls, my back arches, my core is on fire.
His hand reaches down to my entrance, his fingers touching my wet pussy, and the softest touch from him elicits deep moans from me. I want so much, all at once. I want everything. He must sense this, because his fingers rub against me with more intensity. Each circular motion they make causes me to shake with desire.
“I need you in me,” I beg him.
“Not yet.”
“I need it though, baby. I need you in me.”
“Let me get you off. I want to see you squirm.”
He gently pushes me against the pile of pillows, and he spreads my thighs on either side of him. Reaching for my opening again with his fingers, he begins to rub my clit until I have tears on my face. The mounting pleasure is uncontainable as his experienced fingers rub against me, until there’s nothing left but for me to scream out in relief.
Three of his fingers reach inside me, hitting my g-spot with such intuition that I know he must have finger-fucked a hundred women this way. As my pussy clenches around his hand, my opening gushing with release, all I can think is thank god I am woman one hundred and one, because I deserve someone experienced, someone who knows how to use his massive cock, his strong hands.
“Now you’re ready,” Landon says, his cock hard once again. My eyes flutter closed for a moment as I catch my breath. But he knows what he’s doing. He knows that waiting for me to recover isn’t what I need. I need to be fucked so hard my eyes will close for the rest of the night. He knows I need to be fucked until all I see is black skies and bright stars.
I need to be fucked until all I see is him.
He presses his thickness into me, and I gasp as he does. He fills me up in ways I have only dreamed about. Ways I need. I grab his shoulders and pull him down, wanting his body to cover mine.
“Oh, baby,” I moan. “This is everything.”
“This is magic.” He kisses me again, as he rhythmically ravishes me with his cock. “This is us.”
When he comes it’s hard and fast; I do too. Unable to comprehend the ceaseless orgasm he causes to ripple through me, I laugh.
He rolls off me and takes my hand. Our fingers lace again. It’s natural and it feels like love … and I don’t want to think about that fact that it is all fake.
Landon doesn’t either, because in the stillness of the dark curtained bed, where our sweaty bodies and slick skin reveal the ways we gave ourselves to one another, he whispers, “I love you, Claire.”
And I close my eyes again, wanting to remember the moment when I forgot what was real and what was not. Wanting to remember when I chose to believe, for just one night, the things I wanted, not the things I had.
Landon
The next morning I wake in an empty bed. Pulling back the curtains on the bed, I find Claire texting on her phone, pacing the room in nothing but her panties and a tank top.
“Everything okay, love?”
She whips to face me the moment she hears my voice.
“Love?” she asks. “I thought the sentiment was just for last night?” She drops the phone in her purse, and crosses to the bed. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she tilts her head and smiles.
“It’s just so easy to pretend,” I tell her, holding her at her waist so effortlessly. Last night felt like a dream but, waking up this morning and seeing her here, it feels so real.
Maybe it can be.
Maybe this is more than a job, more than a ruse. Maybe Claire is the perfect woman for me.
“I know, but we need to keep our heads in the game.” She smirks, her lips twisting in perfection. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks me.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re up to no good.”
“That’s my motto, sweet cheeks.”
“Sweet cheeks, huh? What will you call me next? Snookums?” Claire laughs, her head falling back and her graceful neck tempting me to devour it. But she pulls away before I can plant kisses in the places I want to—which is everywhere. “I’m starving. And it’s already nine. I haven’t slept in this late for five years.”
“Five years?” I scratch my chin, watching as she opens a suitcase and begins rifling through the piles of clothing.
“Give or take.” Her back is to me, but she keeps talking. “What do the English wear to breakfast?”
“Anything will do. I’m sure Dad will want everyone to walk the property and Mum will insist everyone sees the greenhouse. Fiona will act like they’re the most amazing plans of all time, and Geoffrey will grumble. It will be a pleasant day, I’m sure.” I know I sound jaded, but I know exactly how days with my family go.