Page 33 of The Boyfriend Experience

But she’s drunk.

But she paid for the boyfriend experience.

But she’s…

Fuck it.

It goes exactly like that. I mean, I’m a dude. I can only wage a war with myself for so long, ya know? She’s got her pussy positioned right over my cock. And because I’m just a dude, I’m actually getting hard from that alone. Add in the sexual innuendo and well… you gotta know when the battle is over and it’s time to surrender.

So I let my hands slide down her body and cup her ass. This makes her move forward a little, pressing herself on my cock in a way that gets me from half mast to full sail.

The first kiss was pretty amazing. Her mouth is soft and her plump lips pressing against mine might be the most sensual thing I’ve experienced in a long time. Better than the feel of her rubbing on my cock. Better than the play happening between our tongues.

But the second kiss is even better. It’s a little harder. Just a little desperation added in. I suddenly want to hold her everywhere at once. I want to cup her face, and her ass, and slip my hands between her legs because I know her pussy is as wet as her mouth right now.

I like the desperation. The hard, fast fuck is always a winner. But I feel a little guilty. Like I’m taking advantage of this day. Of this contract. Of her.

So I switch things up and bring my hands up to her neck, threading them into her long, wild mane of blonde waves, and hold her close as we kiss.

I like the slow and soft as well and that’s what I’m gonna give her tonight.

I mean… fighting it is a lost cause. I’m already gone. The option of stopping is no longer on the table. So I’m gonna make it count. I’m going to pretend she’s the only girl in the world. She’s my vision of the perfect partner. We’re a couple, and have been a couple since time began.

I’ll make it perfect.

That’s how I’ll justify this. That’s how I’ll make it up to her for being a douchebag dude who can’t control his primal urges.

“Oaklee,” I say. Because I want her to know I’m with her. Her. Not anyone else. Just her.

“God,” she says, whispering the word. “You’re a lot hotter than you first appeared, Law.”

“That’s because you’re drunk,” I say, laughing as I swipe a piece of hair covering her eyes away and tuck it behind her ear.

“If you say so,” she says, her hand grazing against my t-shirt as she reaches for my belt. When she gets a hold of it she looks down and stops to laugh. “Burberry. In house-check. I should’ve known.”

“Matches my shoes,” I mumble absently, still playing with her hair. It’s soft. Both in texture and in waves. She’d be right at home on the banks of the river that run through the property I’m going to buy in Indian Hills. I can almost picture her there with me. Wearing some gauzy summer shirt and cut-off shorts that have all those white strings hanging off the jagged edges. Her shoulders bronzed from days in the sun. Laughing, of course. Because she has a great laugh. I haven’t heard much of it, but what I have heard, I love.

Love. Jesus. Get a hold of yourself, Lawton. She hired you to be a fake boyfriend for her nemesis. She’s not into you.

Right.

Except right now she is.

So again… fuck it. Because I don’t want to say no. Even if I could, and I have decided I can’t, I don’t want to.

She’s got the belt unbuckled and the button on my jeans popped. The zipper is down and her hand is pressed up against me, massaging my cock as I ponder this quick change of events.

I shouldn’t think about it. I should just let all the rambling thoughts in my head go and concentrate on the here and now. Just enjoy it.

But I’m not that kind of guy. I’m not a go-with-the-flow person. At all. I was thinking about tomorrow yesterday and now it’s completely different. Because tomorrow I’ll wake up here, or alone in my own place, and I’ll have to deal with the consequences. There’s gonna be those awkward silences as we both remember what we did. There’s gonna be some kind of wall between us now. Distance. Uncomfortable distance.

But she kisses me again. And even though I’ve felt two ways about her kisses already, it’s different this time as well. It’s not soft, it’s not demanding, it’s… a lead into something else.

The problem is I don’t have a clue what that something else is and it’s going to drive me crazy.

“You’re driving me crazy,” I say unexpectedly.

She scoots herself up closer to me so her breasts are pressing into my chest. Her hand is still between us, but she’s lifting up her skirt and—I think—playing with herself.