Pretend Love Romance by Penny Wylder
AJ
Claire is here across from me, in my favorite corner booth, in my favorite little dive. My admission shocked her. Good. That was exactly the reaction I wanted. That look on her face told me all I needed to know. She still wants me. I couldn’t be sure before, but now there is no doubt in my mind.
She didn’t take me serious, and that’s good too. I want her to feel at ease around me. She’s finally starting to relax. She tells me about all the people she’s helped so far at the Hope Center. One story in particular she seems fond of, about a sick child who came in crippled by pain and left the center skipping and jumping. She loves her job and she’s dedicated, which is the real reason I made sure she was the one to run the center, but I will admit, I did want her close to me. I wasn’t entirely unselfish in that decision.
I throw down a hundred dollar bill onto the table and we stand up to leave. I wave at the little girl who I took selfies with. Claire laughs.
“I help a lot of children in the center who are very excited to be pain free, but none of their smiles even compare to the children who see you out in public,” she says.
“I do what I can to make the kids happy. I was one of them, too, once. I worshipped the sports stars whose posters were all over my bedroom walls. The few times I got to see them in person, it was always so disappointing to learn that they were such cold-hearted assholes with their fans. I vowed, if I ever became a famous athlete, I would never be that way.”
The way she looks at me in this moment, like no one else in the world exists but us, makes my stomach flip. I want her so bad. It’s not even just about the sex, though that is a part of it. I want to hold her again, smell her, feel her skin, her hair.
We leave the diner and climb into my car, heading for the freeway.
“Do you have any kids of your own?” she asks.
“No. I was almost married once, but she was more in love with the idea of being a pro-football player’s wife than my wife. It’s just me and my team.”
“I know what that’s like. I’d say I’m alone because I’m new in town, but I’ve been alone for a while because I’ve dedicated my life to medicine, cutting out all extra-curricular activities. Over the years I’ve used sex as a relief valve. I’d find a guy, have a good night, then disappear.”
Sounds like a familiar story, I think to myself. The idea of her being with other guys sends something sharp and unwanted through me.
“Yeah, I know,” I say bitterly. “I’ve been one of your ‘big dumb fucks’ before, remember?”
Her cheeks flush and she looks out the car window. I keep my eye straight on the road. But the truth is I wouldn’t mind being one again.
“You have tomorrow off,” I say. I looked at her schedule before leaving the Hope Center. “Why not release a little steam tonight. For old times’ sake. Nobody would ever have to know.”
When I reach over and touch her leg, she gasps and her whole body tenses. Her legs, ever so slightly, part just a little wider. I smile to myself. I didn’t misread her in the diner. She wants me too.
* * *
When we pull into the garage at my house, I barely have time to park before she reaches over the center console of my car and opens my fly. Her breath is heavy, her voice a low rasp when she says, “I’ve been thinking about doing this ever since I saw you at the ribbon cutting ceremony.”
I’ve been thinking about this since the night she left me wanting more in my college frat house.
She pulls my cock out of my boxers and ogles. “It’s bigger than I remember,” she says. And then, with a small grin, she lowers her head into my lap. It’s like my horniest teenage fantasies are coming to life. Dream car, dream girl. She strokes me a few times, dragging her finger around the head of my cock, and then takes me into her mouth.
My eyes roll in the back of my head as the warmth of her mouth envelopes me. She takes me as deep as she can without gagging. My whole body goes warm, like sinking into a heated pool where everything is weightless. It feels incredible.
She sucks me slowly, in a steady rhythm. My hand rests on her head, but I don’t guide her. There’s something so sexy about watching and feeling her head bob in my lap. She takes me all the way down, to the base, and then twists up again, almost letting my cock pop out of her mouth, but instead she cleverly tightens her lips over the head creating an amazing suction that sends sparks shooting through my body.
Her hair is so silky under my hand, but after a few minutes I realize my fingers are now buried in her hair, grabbing at her roots. I’ve spent every ounce of self-control I had, so I start pushing her head, making her speed up her pace and take me even deeper. “I’m close,” I warn her.
To my surprise she goes harder, sucking and slurping and moaning. Fuck, she’s good at this. I block out all the thoughts that make me wonder how many men she’s been with since me.
I growl, trying to hold on as long as I can so I can keep savoring the feeling of Claire’s perfect mouth on me, but I can’t. She’s better than the fantasy that has been haunting me all these years. My orgasm crashes into me a strong wave, and I pin Claire’s head down as my cock explodes, shooting hot cum down her throat. I jut my hips up, keeping her head firmly in my lap, and feel my cock hit the back of her throat. Her hand reaches up and grips my own on her head. Fuck, that felt good.
My hands are shaking as I put my dick back in my pants. Claire is the sexiest mess I’ve ever seen. Her face is flushed, her hair is in disarray, her lips are swollen, and her eyes have tears glistening at the corners. I pull her toward me in a deep kiss. “I want you in my bed. Now,” I tell her. I leave no room for argument, and she doesn’t seem to even entertain the idea of saying no.
