Page 21 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

Seth’s arm tightens around me, and he kisses my shoulder, murmuring in a gravelly, sleepy voice, “Mm. Ellie.”

I close my eyes, my alias tugging sharp and low in my chest. I love that he calls me something nobody else does, because when I’m with him, I feel like someone nobody else truly knows. He’s brought out parts of me I didn’t know were there. But at the same time, the lie wraps tighter every time he says it. But what am I supposed to do? Roll over and blurt out, Surprise, I’m Taylor Nunnally, not Taylor Mitchell or his fake sister? Seth would throw me out before the sheets cooled and probably fire me, too.

I can’t risk my job for a fling. The smart move is to enjoy what’s left of the weekend, keep my heart locked down tight, and go back to work with him none the wiser. I’m overthinking, anyway. Romanticizing. That annoys me, because that’s the old Taylor, the romantic-hearted teenager who was sure her love would be enough to keep the boy she’d fallen for by her side forever. The naive girl who stood at the altar for two hours waiting for a groom who never showed. I refuse to ever be that naive girl again. This weekend I’m Eleanor Mitchell, a girl who can pull off a weekend fling like a pro. I’m starting to understand why Becca likes to dress up as pinup girls and go-go dancers. She dresses in camouflage, while mine is merely a name.

Seth brushes his lips over my shoulder again. His hand slides up my stomach, cupping my breast, and my entire body comes alive. “You awake, sexy girl?”

“Mm-hm.” I turn in his arms, and my stomach dips at the combination of tenderness and heat in his eyes. Without his glasses, he’s got more of a laid-back beach lover vibe than the hunky professor he rocks with his glasses. When it comes to Seth Braden, I have a thing for both.

His mouth curves wickedly. “So it wasn’t a dream.”

“Are you sure?” I tease. “Because I was just thinking if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

He brushes his nose along mine and kisses me softly. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me.”

“Why?”

“Because now I’m tempted to make sure you don’t.” He nips at my lower lip, pressing his hand to my back, so I feel every hard inch of him against my front.

Lust simmers inside me. “You’re too charming,” I say, reaching over his hip and grabbing his ass.

“And yet you’re still here.” He buries his hand in my hair, tugging my head back just hard enough to cause a sting of pain and pleasure to chase through me. “Groping my ass,” he rasps against my neck. “Taunting me.” Heat coils hot and tight in my core, winding tighter with every ragged word. “Are you wet for me, sexy girl?” He sinks his teeth into my neck, and I gasp, my thoughts shattering like glass. “Do you want me to fuck you until neither of us can see straight?”

That wild girl surges to the surface. “No, Mr. Braden,” I say boldly. “I’m going to fuck you this time.” I shove him onto his back, and his surprised laugh breaks free as I straddle him.

His hands clamp on to my hip, holding me above his erection. “Like I said, Ms. Mitchell. You’re a master at distraction.”

“I guess you bring that out in me.” I sink down, taking him in one slow, claiming glide, the stretch so exquisite, a moan tears from my lungs.

His jaw clenches, his fingers digging into my hips. “Christ, Ellie.”

He hisses, and the sound of his pleasure sends thrills skating over my skin. I roll my hips, savoring the feel of him filling me before sliding up and down his cock, building momentum. I love the way his eyes flame, and his body answers mine with every move as I ride him faster, taking him deeper. He grits out lustful praise and dirty demands, each one threatening to unravel me. “Feels so damn good…Grind your hips.” The appreciative sounds he makes take me higher. “Christ…Good girl. Fucking perfect.” He thrusts and gyrates, working me so expertly with his fingers and cock, I grind harder, ride him faster. I’ve never been this bold or adventurous, never wanted to be, but with Seth, I want it all.

“Fuck, yeah, baby girl. So gorgeous, riding my cock like you were born to take it.”

I devour that praise and beg for more. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes blaze into mine. “That word is not in my vocabulary with you.”

He clutches my hips with both hands, stilling them, while he thrusts and grinds, sending pleasure radiating through my core. I try to move. “Seth, please.”

Eyes trained on mine, he says, “Reach behind you and touch my balls.”

I do, and it changes the intensity and angle of our connection. He moves one hand between my legs, teasing my clit, sending prickling heat racing through me. “Ohgod. Don’t stop.” I pant and moan, pressure mounting inside me. He reaches up and pinches my nipple. I cry out as scintillating shocks dart through me. “Again,” I plead.

He does it again, and this time my hips buck, and he groans. “Fucking hell. You’re too damn sexy, touching my balls. Squeeze my cock with your pussy.” I clench my inner muscles, and his guttural growl fills the space between us. “Keep doing that,” he demands, and guides my other hand between my legs. “Touch yourself.”

My heart races. I’ve never felt so exposed or so turned on.

“That’s it, baby girl. Faster. You know you like it faster.”

“Yes” comes out in one long breath as I do as he asks.

He loosens his grip, guiding me along his shaft, controlling the speed, the depth, stroking over that hidden spot inside me, time and time again. I can barely see, barely breathe, for the need coursing through me. “Keep teasing my balls,” he says huskily. “That’s it. Now smear your come on your tits.”

I follow his commands, each one winding me tighter.

“Again,” he grits out, and I touch myself as he watches.