Page 12 of The Fake Out

“What?” I asked, and then my lips parted in a gasp as he looked me dead in the eyes and stroked his cock right there in my bed.

Who was this guy?

He was a dirty, dirty man. I loved it. Too bad he lived in Toronto, or I could see a fuck buddy’s situation between the two of us.

“I see you staring at my cock like you can’t decide if you want to ride it or put it in your mouth again.”

“Uh huh,” I mumbled, mesmerized by this beautiful man in my bed stroking himself as he looked at my naked body.

“You want me to join you, sweets?”

“Yes,” I whispered. He gave me that cheeky grin again, like the one he gave me when he ate me out last night.

He got out of bed and followed me into my small bathroom. I turned on the showerhead and stepped inside, with him right behind. The water had barely hit me when his strong arms lifted me, and he pressed me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his powerful hips as he buried his sheathed cock inside me. He must have grabbed a condom from my drawer before following me inside. Damn, this man knew how to make a woman silly. I clutched onto his shoulders while he held me up and pumped into me with the water sliding down our bodies. I didn’t know hockey players were this built, but this man was strong. We didn’t last long, and I dug my nails into his muscular back as we came together beneath the water.

He stepped out to get rid of the condom while I washed my hair. We helped each other clean up, and I giggled as he made my breasts super clean. The water had gone cold by the time I washed the conditioner out of my hair.

Ever the gentleman, he handed me a towel when we got out, and I dried myself off. I dressed quickly and ran the blow dryer through my hair. I braided it so it was out of my face, not caring if it was still damp.

Blaise stood in my hallway, looking down my steps, when I came out of my room, dressed and ready to leave. “What?” I asked.

“You need a railing. Is that even code?”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

He walked down the steps behind me, and I locked up my apartment. The ride to South Street wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. Blaise was nursing some sort of heartbreak, so maybe a no-strings night of animalistic fucking was just what he needed.

“So how many siblings do you have?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation light to pass the time.

“Six.”

“Six of you?” I exclaimed. “All boys?”

He laughed. “My parents were only children. I have one sister, Maja. Her and Michael are twins.”

“That’s wild. I have one older brother. I think.”

“You think?”

I frowned. “My mom ran off when I was a baby. Who knows? I might have other siblings.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. My mom’s gone too, but it was cancer.”

That one I already knew. Hal was a total silver fox, and ladies certainly took notice of him. I’ve sat at his bar many times and watched him flirt with women until they propositioned him. I thought he had a rule about not dating customers. When I asked him why he never took up their offers, he pointed to his wedding ring and said he was still in love with his dead wife.

Blaise’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. He was tense, and I got the feeling talking about his mom was hard.

“I’m sorry,” I offered.

He unclenched his fists and gave me a weak smile. “It was a long time ago.”

“Your dad still wears his wedding ring.”

He made a grumpy noise in his throat.

“What?”

“My mom’s death broke him. I don’t want to be like him.”