The Decoy Girlfriend(89)
“When you’re ready,” agrees Freya. Then, cheekily, “It’ll give you a chance to miss me.”
“I started missing you the second we spent the night apart,” he admits.
Her heart feels like it’s tripping over itself. Repeatedly. She wants to kiss him, muss him up until he’s hers, hers, hers.
“So, for the record, just how many girls have you asked to live with you?” Freya asks, winding her fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
His irritated look is utterly unconvincing. The outer corners of his eyes crinkle with the force of his smile. “One.”
“I wish I could kiss you,” she says with a longing sigh.
“Me too. But then it would be impossible to walk out of this house without you.”
It’s not as bittersweet as she thought to change out of the dress. Not when it’s Taft’s fingers gliding the zipper down her spine. His lips sweeping across the back of her neck, cock hard against her ass as he helps her step out of it and then neatly hangs it up for her. Him drinking in the sight of her in lingerie, jewelry, and heels.
The air around them smells like need on fire. The heels are next to go, his hot mouth ghosting along her inner thigh until she shivers and clenches her fingers in his hair.
When that happens, he makes a low growl in the back of his throat that goes straight between her legs, and hoists her up on the counter. A tube of lipstick topples into the sink with a sharp sound, but they both ignore it.
Instinctively, she wraps her legs around his waist, bringing him closer to her throbbing center. Her arousal is slick between them, the counter cold under her ass as she perches on the edge and hungrily watches him roll on a condom.
“She’s going to come here any second now,” Freya whispers into his ear, grazing her teeth along his lobe. “Make me come first.”
She’s immensely gratified when a shudder goes through him. Her statement doesn’t come from a desire to stop but to remind him that she needs him inside her.
There’s no slow and tender in the way he takes her, which is exactly how she wants it. How she needs it. He feels solid and real inside her, arms bracketing her body, mouth gnashing and possessive as it slants over hers. Pleasure alights in her every single synapse. This coupling is all about the reminder that they’re not going anywhere. Seeking refuge in each other like they never want to find their way out.
When she cries out, walls pulsing and gripping him even tighter, he finally lets go and comes with her.
“I know you’re all ‘Ladies first,’ but next time, I’m sucking you off,” Freya mumbles against his sweaty neck. “And you’re going to be naked. I can’t believe you barely got undressed for this.”
Taft laughs and rakes his hand through his hair, disheveling it beyond redemption. It’s a good look. “Okay, you’ve got a deal.” He nudges her legs and wipes her thighs with a hand towel, cleaning their combined fluids before attending to himself.
Freya’s just shimmied herself into a pair of sleep shorts and a soft NYU tee when the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it!” Taft calls, already freshened up. He drops a sweet kiss on her shoulder before leaving.
She scrutinizes herself in the mirror. There’s no getting around it—she looks exceedingly well fucked. Flushed cheeks, messy hair, suspiciously bright eyes. With a shrug, she goes out to join them.
Hen looks happier than Freya’s ever seen him, tongue lolling and tail vigorously wagging.
“Who’s been a good boy?” Mandi coos to the dog, giving him several head rubs before rising from her crouch on the floor. “I’ve missed you, Sir Henry.”
“You just assume he’s been a good boy, huh?” asks Taft.
“Uh-huh. Because I sure know you haven’t.” She grins up at him, then catches sight of Freya and the smile dwindles.
Mandi’s dressed in all black, but she’s still looks enviably gorgeous in yoga pants, a fitted hoodie, and an Adidas cap pulled low to hide her bare face. She takes it off now, shakes her brown hair out of its ponytail, and sighs. “You two have made a god-awful mess.”
Freya opens her mouth, then lets the point stand. It’s fair, more or less. “I’m so sorry, Mandi.”
She isn’t sure how she expected the other woman to react. Pitch a fit, maybe. Yell at her, definitely. But what Freya never suspected in a million years is that Mandi would walk over and put her arms around her. The hug doesn’t come naturally to either of them, but Freya squeezes her back all the same.
“It’s okay,” says Mandi. “It was a good run, wasn’t it? And I was always supposed to be back by now, so I guess thanks to you, I’m right on time. At least no one has the full story, right? The engagement rumors we can squash, but it would be pretty shady to explain you to the world.”
Taft frowns. “She doesn’t mean it like that.”
“Look, bad choice of words, but admit it, we’re all going to look ridiculous if the truth gets out that Freya took my place for the last four weeks,” says Mandi. “It’d seem like the worst publicity stunt ever.”
“I don’t want to make either of you look like a laughingstock,” says Freya. She feels pinched and insignificant, about yea big, and it takes a sizable effort to make sure her words don’t seem that way. “Or make things worse for you with Gareth.”