The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 85

He will not be hers for much longer.

Unless she wills it.

It's a heady feeling. This sudden power that she holds over this man and everything in his life.

Is she sorry for she did what she did to him? No. At least, that is what she tells herself. She hated him and loved him at the same time. There isn't a day that passes by that he hasn't occupied her thoughts and invaded her dreams. It's as if he made her - fleshed her out as surely as if he were her Maker.

And now he is her puppet. Meek and submissive. Not quite, but she would like to tell herself that. Brian would never be meek and submissive. He does everything she tells him to with a hidden resentment, a slow boil that would come to the surface sooner or later. And knowing he is bending to her will - letting her dominate him - because of this perky copper-haired woman, her rival, is beyond maddening.

She runs a lacquer-tipped finger down the curl of his cock. He has a gorgeous, gorgeous cock. So thick and firm and smooth. She loves the satiny feel of its head - the dome-shaped curvature of it. The little aperture at its tip that she can sink the tip of her tongue into. The long, juicy shaft of it with the plump vein running on top. She can just look at it forever.

She takes it in her hand and squeezes the head. The delicious piece of flesh immediately fills with warm blood. Brian stirs, sighing in his sleep. He's a creature of tactile sensation, she knows, by the way his cock is rapidly lengthening and broadening. His cock has a mind of its own, and if it decides to wake up, it has nothing to do with who she is and everything to do with the fact that a hand - any hand - is handling it.

She tries to imagine what it is like to have this man as a boyfriend. The way that inconspicuous Samantha Fox seems to have. To have him on your arm in the open, to flaunt him in front of all the gawkers and people you don't know on the street. Brian is very handsome, of course, but he possesses that extra charismatic quality that makes him stand out in a crowd. That quality which makes you swivel your head to look twice.

If only ...

She narrows her eyes.

His cock is now turgid and standing up like a flagpole. He shifts his body slightly and murmurs something in his semi-sleep. He's not fully awake. Not yet. And no wonder. Two days have passed, and they have been scant out of bed. It's as though she's making up for years and years of lost time.

She keeps on massaging his cock. She curls her fingers around the bulb. She ensnares his shaft and rubs it back and forth. With her other hand, she cups his balls and tweaks them gently.

He opens his eyes drowsily.

"What time is it?" he mumbles.

"Time for more sex." She tightens her grip on his cock and balls. "I want more sex."

They are in a bar. Not the one she had been parked out at. That one looks a little rough. This is a nicer bar with nicer clientele. They are all dancing to something by Usher, and her feet begin to tap despite her moroseness.

She's not completely morose, of course. The vodka and lime helped to clear her head, dull her senses, and tease her into a false sense of euphoria. Thor's earnest face swims in her line of vision and she shakes herself mentally.

Time to go home.

"I think I'd better go home, Thor." Her speech is slightly slurred. She hasn't had so much to drink in a very long time.

"What's the rush?" he says. "It's only midnight."

"We both have to work tomorrow."

"Yeah, but you're the boss. You can come in anytime. And my shift doesn't begin until two." He pushes her half-empty glass to her. "Have some more."