Page 33 of Just (Fake) Married (Calloways vs. McGraws #1)

Jesus, Mary and Tom Hanks, he was big.

He hissed and I looked up at him. His head was kicked back, his neck and cheeks flushed.

Unbelievably, desire kindled again between my legs.

“Now, you look at me,” I breathed.

I undid his jeans and shoved them down his hips.

The tip of his cock was held tight against his belly by the waistband of his boxers.

I looked up to make sure he was watching.

He was, with deeply lidded eyes. His bottom lip between his teeth.

Leaning forward, I licked the tip of his cock and then slowly pulled his boxers down, my tongue tracking the progress down his cock.

He smelled so good and I pressed my nose against him. When I got to his balls, I gave them each a lingering, sucking kiss and then licked my way back up to the top.

“Harmony,” he groaned. I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and tipped it towards me, sucking the head into my mouth. He jolted against me and I tasted the salt of his come. He wasn’t coming yet. But he was close, and I hummed with approval in my throat.

“You like that?” he whispered, and I whimpered, my mouth full of him.

“Then suck me.” He cupped my face in his hands and my eyes practically rolled back in my head.

I set the pace and he just held on, not forcing anything.

Not pushing me down on his cock so I couldn’t breathe.

Just holding me, his thumbs against my cheek so he could feel what I was doing to him.

Gasping, I leaned back, my hand jacking the length of his cock and then twisting around the tip.

“Yes,” he groaned, his knees braced against the side of the mattress. I looked up at him and then couldn’t look away. Honest-to-God, he was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in real life, and he was here. In my hands. “Mouth,” he groaned. “I need…”

His cock was rock hard in my hand and I could sense he was about to come. And he wanted to do it in my mouth. I moaned, sucking him deep, so the head of his cock touched the back of my throat. Over and over, I took him all, moaning in my throat.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you.” His thumbs reached forward, touching my lips that were spread taut around him. “So tight. Fuck. Your mouth is so good, Harmony. I can’t…”

His thumbs stroked my lips again, feeling me suck him. Watching him watch me was so painfully intimate. The most intimate I’d ever been with anyone.

“Yeah, fuck,” he said, his voice a snarl.

His body was hard, every muscle tense. His hands slid to the back of my head, fisting my hair, like he had to hold onto something.

I felt like if he just kept looking at me like this, I could come again.

Just like this. His hands tightened and his head kicked back.

Then he was coming in my mouth, filling it with his cum, and I held onto him for dear life.

This was going to change me, I thought. And I didn’t know if that was a good thing. Or if I would survive the change. I only knew it was true.

He eased back, twitching, like the touch of my mouth as he pulled out was too much against his sensitive skin.

The sounds he made…the fuck and the you’re such a good girl and the holy shit, Harmony of it all, had me rocking against the bed.

Aching for more. Even though I’d already had so much.

More than I’d ever had. All of this was more than I’d ever had.

It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“Harmony,” he said. Unable to stop myself, I looked up at him, and it was a mistake. I was a fly in a web. Caught.

“You want more,” he said, one hand on my shoulder, the other slipping up my thigh. “You need more.”

My breath shook in my chest and his fingers cupped me.

I moaned, unable to keep my eyes open for another second.

If he demanded I watch him, I would leave, I would.

Because I couldn’t let him see me any more clearly than he already had.

In fact, if I knew what was good for me, I’d get the fuck out of there.

Retain some portion of myself, but his fingers slipped into the wetness pooled between my legs. He groaned like he couldn’t get enough.

“Open your eyes,” he said, and I shook my head. I was down to the last drops of self-protection.

“No? Okay,” he breathed, like he understood what was happening and he would allow me to hide from him if that was what I needed to do.

A finger slipped inside of me, and I cried out and pressed my legs wider.

“Not enough?” I shook my head, and he slipped in another finger.

And then, impossibly, a third. I was so full.

Stuffed full. I grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

My eyes closed while he fucked me with his hand.

His fingers. His thumb slid up against my clit and I cried out, buckling forward, my body spasming.

All I had was his hand to hold onto and his stomach to rest my head against.

“Come on,” he breathed. He curled forward and kissed the top of my head. “One more, baby. One more. You can…”

The orgasm crashed through me so hard I screamed, my arms curling around him, holding him close as I opened my mouth against his skin, tasting him against my tongue.

I was sweaty and there were tears running down my face.

I had to wipe them away before I sat back.

He slipped his fingers out of me and I couldn’t stop the wince.

That had been intense, and my body felt every second of it.

I still couldn’t look at him. I could feel him watching me, but I just sat there trying to breathe and to gather the pieces of myself that had been tossed across the universe.

“Let me get you a glass of water,” he said, quietly. “And a warm wash cloth.”

I’d never needed a warm wash cloth after sex. I’d never been sore. Wrung out. He stepped away from the bed and I could hear him leave the room to go to the bathroom in the hall. We should have done this in my room. But maybe that would be weird for him – it had been his mother’s room after all.

I stood up on shaky legs and looked down at the wet spot I’d left on the quilt. The insides of my thighs were slick.

I quickly gathered my clothes, wincing as I bent over. I put my underwear back on and gasped as even the pressure of that against me was somehow exciting.

I pulled the cups of my bra back over my breasts and tugged my sweater over my head. Backwards, but whatever. In the hallway bathroom, the sink turned off and I stood up, my jeans in my hands.

All of that had happened – the dirtiest, sexiest not quite sex I’d ever had – and I was still in my socks.

I pushed all my hair off my face and did the impossible, I looked at Ethan McGraw, walking back into the room carrying a glass of water and a warm wash cloth for me. Naked.

He was beautiful. And completely unreadable. Was he embarrassed? Was he weirded out by how much I came?

“I’m going to go,” I said, pointing at the door he’d just come through, in case he’d forgotten where it was.

“Okay,” was all he said. Still naked. That gorgeous fucking dick of his just hanging there between his legs, like everything was no big deal.

“Ahhhh…thanks?” I said, and that made him smile.

“No. Thank you,” he said.

“You bet,” I said, and then…I wish I was kidding. I wish this moment hadn’t happened and had maybe been a bad dream. Or a joke. But it wasn’t, it was real.

“See you around?” And yes, I gave him the finger gun before I opened the door behind me and got the hell out of there.