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“Younever asked?”
“Notgood enough.IfIcould suck my own dick,I’dnever leave the house.”
“Ican’t suck my own…”
“Pussy?”
“Yes.”Shegrins. “IfIcould do that,Idon’t thinkI’dleave the house either.”
“Mydirty, dirty good girl.”Igrin.
“IthinkImight go have a shower.”
“No.Yousmell like sweat and sex and cum.You’reperfect.Let’sgo to bed.”
WhenIhold out my hands to her, she takes them without question and lets me pull her up and off the table and then lead her to my bedroom.
Ipress her down onto my bed and then lay myself down on top of her.Herhand slides in between us and slowly teases my cock back to life.Wrappingher hand around my length and running her thumb over the tip.
WhenI’mhard again,Iput on another condom and thenIslip into her.AndIfuck her long and slow.Everyinch of my body is pressed against every inch of hers.AsIpump my hips into her over and over again,Ifeel her body shake against mine.I’mriding on an ocean of her, andInever want to feel anything else.Eventually, my long, slow thrusts in and out of her have her clenching around my dick one last time.Whenshe comes,Icome.Icollapse on top of her in a mess of skin, sweat, and sex.
AndI’venever been happier.
I’mfucking in love.
chaptersixty-three
selena
Thingshave been good withJacksonfor the past week since the announcement event.Solong as we don’t leave the house, and so long asIdon’t think about when he’s going to decide it’s finally safe for his career for us to break up.Amicably, of course.
Thesex is definitely a bonus to the whole fake relationship thing.Butnothing’s changed.Jackson’snever even so much as hinted that he wants to see where this could go after the contract is up.He’snever said anything about feelings or that he even actually likes me.
Helikes having sex with me, but what man doesn’t enjoy having sex with a woman who’s right in front of him every day?I’mconvenient.
Maybehe’s sweet to me.Andmaybe he’s possessive.Hewouldn’t bother to be possessive if he didn’t care about me at all, would he?ButJackson’sa proud man.I’mnot sure how much of the possessiveness is just about his ego.Asfar as the rest of the world knows,I’mJacksonWaters’realgirlfriend.
Evenif it’s just sex, even if that’s all it is,I’mcontractually required to stick around.So,Imight as well enjoy it, right?
WhenIget back home from the bakery,I’mtired and covered in a thin layer of flour.Trainingsome new part time bakers on how to use our eight-hundred poundHobartindustrial mixer came with a few hiccups.TheHobartis like a countertop stand mixer on steroids.Butif something is wrong with it, you can’t just run out toWalmartand buy a new one for a couple of hundred dollars.Theycost thousands upon thousands, and repairs aren’t cheap either.
Thenwe got shorted on our chocolate chip order.Theastronomical prices of vanilla and cocoa.Andall the larger commercial spaces thatI’velooked at online are still way, way over budget, even withJackson’stwo-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars.
I’mjust grateful to be home now.
AtJackson’shome,Iremind myself.
ThisisJackson’shome, notmine.
Atbest,Ihave temporary squatter’s rights or something.
Butevery timeImention staying at my house,Jacksonconvinces me not to.Usuallywith sex.Andwho amIkidding?I’mnot difficult to convince.Ionly have a little over two weeks left before the contract is up andJacksonandIfake our breakup, just like we’ve been faking everything else.Exceptfor all the orgasms.Thosehave been as real as it gets.
Afterparking my littlePriusin the garage in the closest spot to the house that he always leaves open for me,Ihead through the house to take a shower and wash this terrible day away.Oatscomes over to say hello, his bum wriggling and tail wagging like it’s been weeks and not only eight hours since he last saw me.He’smore than happy to lick the sugar cookie dough remnants off my clothes.
“Jackson?I’mhome,”Icall out, but don’t get an answer. “I’mgoing to take a shower…”
Hedoesn’t respond, butIhear his voice from his office asIhead into his bedroom to reset my mood with his enormous marble steam shower.Ididn’t even make it a full night in the guest room that first night back inL.A. beforeJacksonbrought me back to his bed.Heput my stuff in one of the enormous matching walk-in closets the next morning, andIhaven’t looked back.JacksonandIshare a bed and a bathroom, almost like this is real.
