Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I remember that she’s from Europe and mentally chastise myself. Of course she knows her wines. I’m being ridiculous, and if I’m honest, I think I might be looking for something to be off with her because so far, I can’t find a single damn thing wrong with her. I was expecting a brainless bimbo, but instead got a smart, witty, beautiful woman.
I think a part of me is wondering why someone like her is here when she could easily land any man she wants. And that makes me wonder if maybe she’s in some kind of trouble and she needs the payout. I want to ask, but it would sound accusatory, so instead, I push it aside. If something’s wrong and she needs help, eventually, it will come out.
The waiter brings us our drinks of choice, and then we order our dinner. The rest of the meal goes well. We keep shit light, talking about places we’ve visited, our favorite hobbies and books and shows. She admits she hasn’t been on a boat in years and is excited for tomorrow, and despite knowing this is all fake, I really enjoy her company. Stacey is easy to talk to, and if the circumstances were different, she’s someone I would actually consider getting to know better—for real.
After dinner, I drive us home and walk her to her door. She doesn’t open it though, instead turning around and facing me.
“Thank you for dinner,” she says. “The food and wine were delicious, and the conversation was wonderful. It was probably one of the best fake dates I’ve been on in a long time.”
Her eyes, filled with mirth, connect with mine, and I lean in to kiss her cheek good night.
My lips brush her soft skin, and I whisper against her ear, “I had a great night,” before I back up, wishing the night weren’t coming to an end.
As if she’s having the same thought as me, she says, “So, tomorrow?”
“Be ready to go bright and early.” I lean back in and kiss the corner of her mouth this time, before I retreat to my room, where I spend the next twenty minutes jacking off while I think about my new fake fiancée.
“You’re spoiling me,” Stacey moans as I rub sunscreen along her shoulders and back. “Keep it up, and I’m going to expect delicious, fancy dinners and day trips on your boat every weekend.”
I chuckle, moving my way down to the backs of her thighs while trying like hell to keep my cock from getting hard. But it’s hard to do when the sexy woman in front of me is dressed in a string bikini that could be used to floss my teeth.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
I finish applying the sunscreen and then climb over her, kissing her neck before I hop up. But before I make it far, she turns over and grabs the edge of my shorts.
“Can you do my front, please?” She playfully bats her lashes. “I don’t want to get it all over my hands.”
I internally groan, knowing my restraint is running thin and if I have to apply sunscreen to her breasts, I just might snap. She’s been like this all day since the moment we woke up—touching and flirting. Walking around in her tiny bikini. Thank God it’s just the two of us on the boat, or I might’ve lost my shit with jealousy. And I’m not usually a jealous guy.
“If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is say so,” I flirt back because my fiancée might be fake, but the way I want to fuck her in every goddamn hole is real.
She doesn’t reply. Instead, she lies back and closes her eyes, waiting for me to massage the sunscreen onto her. I squirt some in my hands and then start with her arms, where it’s safe, then work my way to her breasts. When I massage circles into the swells of her breasts that aren’t covered by the tiny, thin material, she releases a soft moan that goes straight to my cock.
“Fuck, woman, you’re killing me.” I rub the lotion into her smooth, flat stomach and then finish with her thighs and calves. Once I’m done, I get up, needing a drink to cool down.
I’m standing in the kitchen, drinking a beer, when I hear footsteps coming down. I turn around and find Stacey standing in front of me.
“I’m thirsty,” she murmurs, taking my beer from me and slowly, seductively bringing it to her lips. “Mmm,” she moans after she takes a sip and hands it back to me. “That tastes good.”
Without taking my eyes off her, I set the beer on the counter and then hook my arm around her torso, pulling her toward me.
“I want to taste you,” I murmur once our faces are only inches apart.