Fake Shot (Boston Rebels Book 2)

“Colt,” she whispers while poking me in the stomach. It’s still dark out, but the light is starting to creep in.

I rub one eye with the back of my hand but can’t rub the other because she’s got her head on my pillow, our faces pressed together, so that I don’t have access to it. “What time is it?”

She snuggles in closer. Our legs are already intertwined, as we apparently wrapped ourselves around each other in our sleep. As she shifts, her thigh presses into my cock and she laughs, a low, throaty sound that has me growing even harder against her. She hums her approval. “Time for you to listen to the brilliant idea I just had.”

“Okay.” The word is full of trepidation because she sounds wide awake and excited. After her sadness before falling asleep last night, this has me on high alert.

She keeps her eyes locked on me when she says, “I think you should be the one to take my virginity.”

“No.” I don’t even think about my denial before it’s out of my mouth. I don’t have to. There’s no way I’m sleeping with my best friend’s little sister. Especially now that I know she’s never had sex with anyone else. Her face doesn’t fall, and she doesn’t look crushed—which I take as a good sign. She just continues to stare at me like she’s waiting for me to say more. “Jules, you deserve your first time to be with someone special.”

“And you don’t think you’re special?” she challenges, but there’s something in her eyes that softens.

“I think our situation is already complicated enough. It’s hard enough to keep my hands off you when I’m supposed to. You asked me to keep my hands off you unless it was absolutely necessary, and now you’re asking me to have sex with you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. “Am I sending you mixed signals? How’s that feel? Confusing, isn’t it?”

“That’s even more of a reason we shouldn’t have sex. Adding sex to our already confusing situation would just make things that much harder.”

She snorts out a little laugh, which is quickly becoming one of the things I adore about her. “I don’t think you could get much harder.” She presses herself against my length as she runs her hand up my chest and rests it along the side of my neck.

“Jules, no. This is a terrible idea.”

“I told you last night that there was no overlap between the guys I trust, and the guys who would want to sleep with me. But when I woke up this morning, with your hugely hard dick pressed into my stomach, I realized that you are the overlap.”

I could tell her that I wake up this hard every morning, that it has nothing to do with the way my body is wrapped around hers, but that would be a lie. And more importantly, it would hurt her.

“It’s the perfect solution,” she says, seeming so sure of herself. “Because I know you’re never going to have feelings for me, so I don’t have to worry about getting hurt. And because the relationship is fake, the sex would be too.”

She only wants me for sex. The realization guts me—it’s exactly what I was afraid of. She’s becoming my favorite person more and more each day, but to her, I’m just someone who can fulfill a physical need. But my body doesn’t seem to care. My dick is raring to go.

“You can’t fake sex, Jules. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Really? Because based on what I’ve heard from other women, they’re faking it a lot of the time.”

“Trust me, Tink,” I say, unable to help the way my voice drops low as I bring my hand up and tuck her hair behind her ear. “You wouldn’t need to fake it.”

She presses herself forward, into me. “I’m going to need you to prove that theory.”

“This is the worst idea,” I groan, even as my dick grows harder. “We can’t go there.”

“What about everything except sex?”

The temptation to make her beg for me to fuck her, and then deliver, is so overwhelming that my hips thrust forward into her of their own accord. Fuck. I shouldn’t have done that, because now she’s wrapping her leg over my hip, and using her calf to pull me forward so I’m lined up with her center.

“Fuck, Jules.” I rest my forehead on hers. “We can’t.”

“Why not? What’s going to happen if we do?”

I’m going to fall for you. “One of us will get hurt.” And that “one” is bound to be me.

“Colt, I already told you, I’m not under any illusions that you’ll develop feelings for me. And I won’t let myself have feelings for you. So it’s perfect.”

The thought of her having sex with me to get over that hurdle but it meaning nothing to her, bothers me so much, even though in the past that’s always been what I’m looking for in a hookup—something casual, where no actual feelings are involved.

But this time, my feelings are involved. Can I do this with her, even knowing it means nothing to her?

Her hips tilt forward, sliding along the length of me again, and before I can talk myself out of it, I thrust forward to meet her. The low groan of pleasure she admits rattles through me.

“We’ve already kissed,” she says, her tone way too seductive to ignore. Sliding her hand up to my jaw, she traces her thumb along my lower lip. “So that doesn’t feel like it should be off limits.”

“You are playing such a dangerous game right now,” I growl before sinking my teeth into her thumb. I’m barely holding on by a thread, and she’s lying here trying to gnaw through that last frayed string of my control.

“It’s not dangerous, Colt.” She pushes me onto my back and straddles me, hovering just above me. She’s wearing my T-shirt and some skimpy underwear, and even though I’m in the sweats I put on last night when we got back from the party, I can feel the heat radiating off her through the thick fabric. “It’s perfect.”

Crossing her arms in front of her, she grips the fabric at the bottom of the shirt in each hand and raises her eyebrow at me. “Tell me not to take this shirt off and we can stop right here.” She glances down at my crotch, where my dick is standing at attention as much as the fabric of my sweats will allow, and then she rolls her hips forward, pressing along my length. “But I don’t think you want to stop.”

I want to be the kind of person who’s strong enough to resist her, to put a stop to this before we go any further. Instead, I say, “We’re not having sex.”

“I’m fine with that, as long as you give me an orgasm. I’d at least like to know that I’m capable of orgasming with someone other than myself.”

“You’ve never . . .?”

With a shake of her head, she starts to lift her shirt slowly, like she’s giving me time to stop her if I want to. Even though I should put a halt to this before we cross over into territory that we can’t come back from, even though I’m going to enjoy this now, but it’ll hurt later, I watch in fascination as the shirt rises to show me her creamy skin. There are three freckles on her abdomen, and I reach my thumb out, tracing them while I try to memorize their exact locations. Then the undersides of her breasts come into view, and fuuuuuck. She’s stacked like the Playboy models in the magazines my friends and I used to steal from my neighbor’s recycling bin.

“Fuck it.”

I sit up quickly, my hands sliding under the shirt and ripping it up and over her head so fast she lets out a surprised gasp. Then my hands are on her breasts, cupping them so I can run my thumbs over her nipples, and she’s holding my face in her hands and kissing me while she grinds herself against my cock.

I feel like a horny teenager with not enough control over my body any time she’s around. Lying wrapped up in her limbs and trying to resist her while she offered herself up to me for the past few minutes has me already on the verge of exploding. If she keeps rubbing herself along me like that, with just the perfect amount of pressure, I’m going to come in my pants like a fucking amateur.

I kiss my way down her neck, and then take a moment to admire a sight I never thought I’d see. Her breasts spill out of my hands, her nipples pebbled under the rough pads of my thumbs, and below that her abdomen flexes and contracts as she controls the movement of her hips, and every time she pulls back, I can see the neatly trimmed V of curls through the sheer underwear, right where her body runs itself along my sweats.

As soft as they are, I’m wearing these pants like armor, knowing that if I remove them, I’ll fuck her senseless. But I already told her that we’re not having sex, and I need to stick to that, at least, since we’re already hurdling over so many other lines.

There will be a lot to think about later, probably a lot to talk about too, but I don’t care at this moment. All I care about is proving to her that she can let go of her iron grip on control long enough to come by someone else’s hand . . . or mouth. I haven’t decided yet.

My face descends to her breast, capturing her nipple and pulling it between my lips, smoothing around and over it with my tongue while Jules moans, “Yes, Colt!” and my cock surges up, seeking the friction of her body as it presses into mine. I suck her into my mouth until I hear that small grunt of pain, then pause and smooth my tongue over her again, before switching to the other breast. She hums approvingly as I give her other nipple the same attention, and her hips move faster as she grinds into me harder.

The familiar sensation at the base of my spine tells me I need to slow the fuck down before I’m coming in my pants, but the way she’s rubbing herself up against me, so carefree and unguarded and willing to let me touch her in any way I want—it makes me hesitant to pull back. I don’t want her mind to go into overdrive trying to figure out what it means if I slow us down, or worse yet, drawing the wrong conclusions.

“This is too good,” I say, trying to explain myself, “and I’m too close. So I’m going to need you to stop pressing yourself up against my cock like that.”

“Oh yeah,” she says, her voice husky and teasing at the same time. “Or what?”

“Or I’m going to embarrass myself,” I say. Trailing my mouth up the side of her neck, I nip at the cord of muscle there. “And I’d much rather focus on giving you that orgasm you requested.”

“I need you to give me the kind of orgasm that has me seeing stars,” she says as she reaches up and tugs on the gold necklace with the star engraved on it that she always wears.

“Jules,” I say as I flip her onto her back, using my extended arm to prop myself up over her. “I’m going to give you the whole fucking supernova experience. And then every time you touch that necklace of yours, you’re going to remember exactly how it feels to explode.”

She relaxes into the bed and lets her knees fall to the sides. Her thong is tiny, a soft black lace that’s now drenched. Hooking my thumbs around the fabric, I press her legs together so I can slide them off her, then I press them to my face, breathing in her scent, before I tuck them into the pockets of my sweats, telling her, “I’m keeping these.”

“Hey, I made those!”

“You made them?”

I have so many questions, but she just mumbles, “I’ll tell you later,” as her knees fall open again, baring that perfect pussy to me. Aside from the little V of curls at the top, she’s completely bare—pink and shimmering with her arousal.

“So fucking pretty,” I say, reaching a hand out to circle my fingers lightly over her clit. “The way you’re so wet for me . . .” I bend down and press a kiss along the inside of her knee. “So needy.”

Trailing kisses down her inner thigh as I continue circling her clit with light pressure, I make sure to keep my eyes on her face. I want this experience to be perfect for her. I’m confident she knows what she likes when she does this to herself, but since no one else has done this to her, she may not know how to tell me what she needs.

Her eyes flutter shut, and her hips raise to meet my hand, adding additional pressure where my fingers graze against her sensitive nerve endings. Okay, maybe she does know how to show me what she needs.

Increasing the speed as well as the pressure, I kiss my way up to the apex of her thighs and I breathe in deeply, inhaling her scent. And then, I slide my tongue from the back of her pussy all the way up to the front, pulling my fingers away as my tongue laps against her clit to match the tempo of her hips as they move against my mouth. Her soft pants turn into low moans of pleasure that have me teasing my fingers along her entrance.

As I lift my head, she whispers, “Please don’t stop.”

“Grab those pillows behind you and prop yourself up so you can watch. I want you to see what it looks like when someone takes care of you like this, and I want to watch you fall apart on my tongue.”

She arches her back as she reaches for the pillows above her head, and the movement has the tips of my two fingers pressing into her entrance enough that her mouth falls open as she lets out a low, throaty groan. When I slide both fingers into her at once, she hisses out a “yes.”

“Come on,” I say when she freezes, focusing on me inside of her instead of on getting herself set up on those pillows. “Prop yourself up so you can see the way your greedy little pussy is devouring my fingers.”

“Jesus, Colt.” Eyes wide, she sits up enough to prop one elbow behind her and get the pillows situated under her upper back. Then she lies back against them, her eyes locked on me, and I curl my fingers up, stroking her from the inside.

She closes her eyes as her hips meet my fingers thrust for thrust. “Eyes on me,” I say, and her eyes snap open. “I want you to watch every second of this, so that you remember the first person who ever made you scream their name.”

“I won’t be screaming your name,” she says with a laugh.

I bend my head back down to her clit, circling it with my tongue before sucking it between my lips. The moan she lets out borders on a scream, so I lift my head again and say, “Want to bet?”

I’m determined to give her an orgasm that beats anything she’s ever experienced and is more than she ever hoped for. Using my tongue on her clit while my fingers sink deep inside her, I have her moaning and thrashing, chasing that orgasm in mere minutes. Trailing my free hand up her side, I skim my palm along her breast and over her nipple before I spread my thumb and fingers to grasp the base of her throat. I only apply light pressure, not enough to prevent her from breathing, but it sends her body into overdrive. Her hips slam into my fingers as she sets the tempo, and by the way she’s gasping my name in between moans when she finally comes, I’d say I was successful in helping her let go of control long enough to show her who owns this pussy. Because as I pull my fingers out of her and use my tongue to lap up every bit of her cum, there’s only one path forward . . . us, together.

“I love the way you taste,” I tell her.

“Oh yeah? How do I taste?”

I lean forward, planting my elbow on the bed next to her shoulder as I bring my lips to her forehead. “Like you’re mine.”

“I didn’t know ‘mine’ was a flavor,” she says, her sass fully back intact like she didn’t just fall apart on my tongue. “What does it taste like?”

“You.”