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“Yeah. It’s kind of hot. Fucking in your childhood bedroom.”
Blood rushes to my cock at the mere thought of getting to actually fuck her in here like we’re teenagers. “No…” I say, glancing at the door. “Someone could walk in, so let’s keep our clothes on.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Now I really feel like some girl you snuck into your room.”
A laugh bursts through my lips. “Just a couple of horny teenagers.”
“So let’s make out. I’ll let you feel me up like you did with those girls from high school.”
“Seriously?” Suddenly she’s asking to make out with me? Where the fuck did this come from?
Then she holds up her phone. “For the viewers.”
Oh. Of course.
For the viewers.
Jesus, Adam. Get your head on right.
“Sure,” I reply casually.
With excitement, she scoots up the bed until her head is near the pillows. Then she turns on her camera and places it on the nightstand, finding a good angle before lying down on her back and waiting for me.
Something about this feels wrong and right at the same time. I mean, there’s no way to reallyfakemaking out so, like it or not, this will be real.
The sight of her lying on my bed, waiting for me, is something I'd like to etch in my memory forever. I can’t even remember the names of the girls I kissed here twenty years ago, but I’ll remember the way Sage is looking at me right now, in that black bralette and green skirt forever.
After taking a mental picture, I crawl over Sage’s body and nestle myself between her legs. With a smile, she whispers, “Action.”
But I don’t kiss her, not right away. Instead, I brush a tendril of hair off her cheek with my thumb, and I stare into her eyes for a moment. And I think about that moment at dinner when she thanked me during the grace, and I can’t help myself.
“Was that real?” I ask.
Her face falls. “What?”
“When you thanked me during grace for showing you what a good man is? Were you being truthful?”
Recognition dawns on her face. And it takes her a moment to answer.
Fuck, I’m an idiot.Of course it wasn’t real, you moron. After everything you’ve done to her and how you’ve used her, why would she thank you for that?
Without an answer from her, I start to climb off, but she wraps a leg around my hips and holds me in place. Then she runs a hand across my cheek and down to the nape of my neck.
“Yes, of course it was truthful, Adam.”
I don’t care if she’s lying. I really don’t care.
Without another word, I dive in, pressing my lips to hers. She opens for me, and I slide my tongue between her lips, gliding against hers until she hums in response.
And I pretend it’s real.
Resting on my forearm above her head, I kiss her like I mean it. Like it’s not fake.
Her fingers grip the fabric of my shirt, tugging me closer as I hungrily devour her mouth in a torrent of passion. For a moment, I forget about the phone recording us.
I just tasteher. Feelher. Needher.
I suck on her bottom lip and then pull it between my teeth for a small nibble. Releasing her lip, I lick the gold ring there, and she hums again.
