The Big Fake Read Online Penelope Bloom

Categories Genre: Funny, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
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“You said you thought you would want to get this over with before. What changed?” I asked. Dangerous question, Dean. I knew what I wanted to hear, and I knew why I should be hoping she didn’t give me what I wanted.

Pearl met my eyes and didn’t respond right away. “You happened,” she said.

29

PEARL

Dean was kissing me as we backed through the door to our room. I had my hands in his hair and could taste the sweetness of the ice cream we’d had on his tongue.

“What are we doing?” I breathed.

He kicked the door closed behind him. “Something stupid. Again.”

We kissed more, stumbling backwards as I pulled Dean’s jacket off and tossed it on the dresser. “Are we sure we should do this?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “But I know I need you. I fucking need you, Pearl. Even if it’s temporary. You’re all I think about. Taking you again. Tasting you. I can’t control myself around you.”

“Good,” I said.

He pushed me down to the bed and peeled his shirt off, ripping a few buttons in the process from the sounds of it. He had his slacks off and boxers with them in moments.

“Take your dress off for me,” he said, standing tall and proud over me in his nudity. There wasn’t an ounce of self-consciousness from him, and why should there be? Every inch of him was perfect, sculpted artwork. The lamplight behind his body cast him in silhouette except for a bright yellow outline that highlighted the dusting of blonde hairs on the sides of his bare torso and powerful legs. He looked so perfect it hurt.

“I can’t with you watching like that,” I said.

He came closer and kissed me, then cupped my chin as he met my eyes. “You are fucking beautiful. You realize that, don’t you? If you weren’t, it would be easier to stop making bad decisions like this with you. Now take your dress off for me, and make it slow. I want to enjoy this.”

I ran my tongue over my lips and felt my blush deepen when I realized he had his hand on his erection. He was watching me hungrily, waiting.

I swallowed hard, then took the hem of my dress as I sat on the bed and started to lift it. The fabric glided up my thighs and over my hips, revealing the pink thong he’d picked out a week ago–a week that felt like a lifetime at this point.

Dean groaned, gripping himself tighter and pumping his fist. Maybe it should’ve been awkward to have him standing there touching himself to the sight of me like that, but it just felt hot. It made me feel sexy. Wanted. Desired. It made me feel like a prize, and I liked the way that felt.

I brought the dress up over my chest and felt my breasts lift and fall with a bounce. Dean made another sound of approval, eyes roaming me greedily. I tossed the dress beside me on the bed, watching him and waiting.

“The thong. Take it off. Slow,” he reminded me.

I chewed my lip, still watching the hypnotizing movement of his fist. I hooked my thumb in the waistband and pulled them down. I tossed them to the ground, smiling nervously as I waited for his next command. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I didn’t expect him to come forward and fall at his knees in front of me.

I only had time to raise my eyebrows before he pushed my legs apart and buried his head between my legs. “I need to taste you,” he groaned.

In my more civilized moments, I might have thought the idea of being tasted there was the sweaty nightmare of every self-conscious woman who had ever lived. But I wasn’t feeling particularly civilized. Right then, the idea of Dean Slater wanting to put his tongue between my legs like some kind of savage was just about the hottest thing I could’ve imagined.

I threw my head back, legs open wide and hands gripping his soft hair.

He buried his face between my legs, licking and sucking me with abandon.

I had no idea what he was doing, exactly, but I knew it felt good. I squirmed. I moaned. I gasped and pulled at his hair. I writhed against him, thighs pressing in on his head until he probably couldn’t hear a thing but his own heartbeat.

Foreplay wasn’t a race to an orgasm, but if it was, I would’ve won. I didn’t think it had been more than a minute or two before I was crying out and taking a hard handful of the sheets, body shaking and mind emptying as the pure bliss of my climax rocked me.

Dean watched me while planting soft, goosebump-inducing kisses on my inner thighs and lower belly. He looked like he was having the time of his life, and I decided when the time came to find a guy I actually planned to spend my life with, that was a new goal. Find a guy who looks like he enjoys giving me oral as much as Dean.



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