Page 119 of How to Lose at Love

I bite on my bottom lip, tempted to say something dirty, knowing he’d get off on it but having no practice.

He’s being so patient; I want to surprise him with sexy words, surprise him by shifting myself back so I’m sitting, riding him slowly. His eyes go straight to my boobs.

Hands follow.

I toss my hair.

“You like that?” I moan, covering his hands with mine.

He gulps. “Yes.”

“Am I the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Your dick feels so good.”

Dallas parts his lips. Nods.

“You wanna come, don’t you?”

Nods again.

I grind my hips, imagining I’m a sexy porn star, fucking my man so he never thinks of another woman again when he closes his eyes. I want it to be my face he remembers when he wakes up in the morning; I want it to be me he looks for when he’s out at the bars.

If he went to the bars…

“You’re so big,” I tell him, getting him hot. “You like that I’m tight?”

“Yes.”

He can barely get the word out.

This is power, I think.

This is the power of the pussy.

The thing women whisper about—and I have it.

It feels amazing, being in control, like the strongest aphrodisiac.

Inside my core, I feel the first stirring of that tingle, the first hint of an orgasm, one I know is going to be a good one.

I lean in again to whisper in his ear. “I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, baby.” He thrusts harder, though he doesn’t need to; I’m going to come hard no matter what, no thrusting necessary. His dick is doing the job.

My lips press against his neck, feeling the pulse there, his skin hot.

He fucks me and fucks me until I can no longer hold in my loud, drawn-out moan.

“Oh God…oh Dallas…fuck…”

“Let it go, baby.”

He calls me baby for the second time, and I revel in the false words I know won’t be true in the morning but somehow sound so good to me in this moment.

Tomorrow when we wake up, we’ll be back to reality, and won’t that be a shame.