Fake Fiancée(55)

“You’re drenched,” he growled. “Fucking mine.”

Almost frantic, he unsnapped his jeans and pushed them down just enough to pull out his cock. Straddling him, I stroked him up and down as he played with my breasts, sucking on one then the other, his scruff like fire, hurting so good.

“I don’t have a condom,” he whispered in my ear. “But I’m clean.”

I wanted him like that. I rotated my center against his hard length. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned.

He tossed his head back and called out my name as I settled him in deep.

But then he took over. Fast. Furious. Perfect.

Hands held my hips and he thrust into me. He tangled a hand up in my hair and tugged my head back, and once my neck was arched, he sucked me hard. It made me hotter. Desperate. Wetness dripped between us. I screamed his name when I went over the edge.

He came soon after, satisfaction and something else that I couldn’t read on his face as he kissed me.





Max

HOMECOMING ARRIVED. ALL WEEK I’D been obsessively studying the opposing team’s defense and perfecting my pass. I was not going to lose another fucking game. Then my dad called and announced he’d be at the game tonight. Encouraged by Millicent and my chance at the Heisman, he was eager to come. I hadn’t seen him since last Christmas, and it was screwing with my head.

Ryn pulled me to the side as we waited to take the field. “What the hell is wrong with you today? You’re distracted.”

He wasn’t wrong. Stress was eating at me. Every single thing I did, every play I made was crucial.

I rubbed my head. “I’m fine.”

But I played like shit during the first half. We were up by ten when the defense read my play, and I threw the ball right into the beefy hands of one of the Carolina players, who ran it back for a touchdown.

At halftime, my gaze locked with Sunny’s and I sent her a two-finger kiss and held it up. It was something she’d come up with early in the season—a public display to make me look good when the news covered me or it was photographed.

Now, it actually meant something to me, but I didn’t know how to define it. I didn’t allow myself to think about the depth of emotion she created. It was as if I was standing at a crossroads and I couldn’t decide which direction I wanted to move.

Coach sat me down in the locker room. “Whatever’s been eating at you, work it out of your system.”

Right. I resolved once again to push Sunny—and my dad out of my head.

In the fourth quarter, I threw a gorgeous touchdown pass to Tate. We scored again with a field goal in the next series and won us the game.

I met Dad after the game, and we headed to the press conference where I was asked questions and then Dad and I posed for photo ops. Later, we piled up in his Escalade, picked up Sunny at her house, and headed to an exclusive Italian place. Millicent had tipped off a few choice reporters that we’d all be there.

At the restaurant, he talked loudly to everyone we passed who knew him, signed a few autographs, and generally made an ass of himself over Sunny.

He finished chewing a bite of his filet and considered me. In his late forties, he was still a handsome man with sandy brown hair and a trim build. The only hint of age was a slight dusting of gray at his temples and the crow’s feet around his eyes.

Sunny kept eyeballing us, probably sensing the tension roiling off me.

I zoned in when I realized he’d been talking for a while.

He finished a long critique about my throwing technique and how it was off. Then he went on to talk about the merits of the freshman quarterback at Ohio who’d been taking up most of the news coverage for the past two weeks.

Sunny set down her knife and fork on her plate. “With all due respect, Mr. Kent. Max is the highest rated quarterback in the country. No freshman at Ohio can hold a candle to him.”

A burst of laughter came from him. “Oh honey, call me Byron. I’m way too young to be Mr. to you—and you’re my future daughter-in-law. Hopefully, we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future.”

She smiled politely, but I sensed her reserve. She’d worn a soft blue dress with pleats at the neckline and a flowy skirt and strappy heels—which I fully intended to take off with my teeth later.

Dad set down his napkin and considered her. “Are you pregnant, dear?”

I froze mid-bite. What a fucking jerk!

Sunny looked at me and then at Dad. “Ah, no. Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn this loose dress.” She smiled wryly and shrugged.

She was too damn nice to him.

I set my fork down. “I’d appreciate it if you minded your own damn business.”

“You’re my son. Am I not allowed to ask questions?” His expression changed, growing pensive. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but you’re growing up, getting married, and I’m cutting back on my hours at the station. Maybe we can spend more time together.”

My food wanted to crawl up out of my stomach. “Now?”

“I know I wasn’t always there for you—”

I scowled. “You were never there. And now you want to show interest when life is going well for me?”

He folded his hands together. “Don’t be a little bitch, Max.”