Fake Zoned: A Fake Date Anthology

by Malone, M.

  After giving Tank a towel and pointing him in the direction of the bathroom, I change clothes into an ancient pair of jeans and a tank top. He still hasn’t come out yet so I flit around the living room, picking up stray items of clothing and fluffing the pillows on the couch.

  I glance over my shoulder nervously awaiting the moment he’ll appear.

  After depositing my armful of junk in the hall closet, I race back to the kitchen. Poochie is still crouching in her carrier, watching me move around the room with her golden eyes. I unzip the carrier so she can come out when she wants to but she doesn’t seem interested in venturing any further just yet.

  When I hear the telltale squeak of the bathroom door opening down the hall, I lean casually against the counter. Tank rounds the corner and I have to hold in a sigh of appreciation.

  He’s cuffed his pants and removed his sweatshirt, revealing a simple white shirt. It’s tight enough to show the definition of his arms and shoulders. The muscles hinted at under his leather jacket are on full display now. I force my eyes away from his chest and focus on the wall behind him.

  “Do you want some coffee or tea or something? I could put on a pot.”

  He runs his hands through his hair, the dark strands standing on end.

  “Either is fine. As long as it’s no trouble.”

  I grab the kettle from the stove and fill it with water at the sink. I’m all too aware of Tank watching as I move around the small kitchen. His gaze sears into my back and I have to fight the urge to yank my shirt down to cover my bottom.

  Just as I’m about to turn the stove on, the lights flicker. We both look up at the light fixture above us.

  Please tell me this is not happening.

  The lights flicker again and a second later we’re plunged into darkness.

  “Emma?” Tank's voice comes from my left.

  “I’m here. Don’t worry, this happens during every storm. The lights will come back in a second.”

  I put a hand out in front of me tentatively, walking forward slowly until I touch a hard surface. The counter.

  Usually when the lights go out it’s only for a few minutes. It’s strange standing here in the darkness but I’m not going to complain. I tap my foot impatiently, willing the electricity to come back.

  The last time the power went out I was in the shower. This is a breeze compared to being in the dark while wet and naked.

  A series of clicks sounds somewhere to my left before a small flame appears, floating disembodied in the dark. A moment later another flame appears, then another. Tank has obviously found the small lighter and candles I keep near the window for just this purpose.

  In the light of the candles I can see him standing next to the window. He flips the small lighter closed and leans against the wall, staring out at the rain. In profile, he looks almost regal.

  “This is surprisingly relaxing,” he murmurs.

  “Yeah it is.”

  I clear my throat and looked away from the temptation that is Tank. The universe seems to be conspiring against me, determined to throw us together until I lose all resolve.

  Between ignoring him at the law office, and now being stranded together in the dark, part of me wants to just give in, rip my panties off and let the universe have the last laugh. But I’m not a femme fatale and seducing a man isn’t something you can study in school.

  Sasha taught me to dress up to play a part. At the Black Kitty, it was all about the costume. The illusion. But I don’t want illusions and I don’t want a fantasy. No one can teach me how to be sexy in real life. I’m woefully out of my element.

  “Well, I suppose I can’t offer you anything to warm you up. Unless you want a real drink.”

  I gesture to the row of liquor bottles lined up on a sideboard against the wall. We still have brandy and scotch. They were my father’s and the bottles haven’t been touched since he died.

  The thought darkens my mood. I really should get rid of those. I’m not much of a drinker unless I’ve had a hell of a day.

  “A drink would be good. Only if you join me though.” He looks at me, his dark eyes intense. “It’s not good to drink alone. So they say anyway.”

  “One day I would really like to know who they are. For people who don’t exist they seem to have a lot of influence.”

  His soft chuckle rumbles through me as I pick up the bottle of brandy and stack two glasses together. I carry them over to the table and pour a small portion in each glass.

  In the dark the beauty of the storm is revealed, the rain and lightning putting on a private show of water and light. I take a sip of the brandy, enjoying the way it warms on my tongue.

  “I haven’t done this in ages.”

  I sit in one of the wooden chairs by the window.

  “I love watching the rain. Whenever there was a storm my parents would bring our sleeping bags into the living room so we could pretend we were camping.”

  He sits in the chair across from me and takes my hand. “You miss them.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Just that quickly, I’m back there, hiding in the closet, terrified. I look up to see Tank watching me.

  “They were murdered. It was a home invasion.”

  His hand tightens around mine. “I’m so sorry, Emma. When you said they died…”

  “Most people assume it was a car accident. I usually don’t correct the assumption. It’s just easier that way but somehow with you, I don’t know. It feels like you’d understand.”

  He has the eyes of someone who has seen terrible things and survived. Maybe that’s how I knew I could tell him and he wouldn’t make me talk about it. Instead he does exactly what I need him to do.

  Listen.

  I take my hand back and tuck it in my lap. Touching him is becoming too easy, a habit I can’t afford to adopt.

  “So what about you? Did you and Finn grow up around here, too?”

  I take another sip of brandy feigning calm. I’m way too interested in his story.

  “Yeah, we were raised in Norfolk. Mom tried her best to do it all but she could only do so much.” He sits back and folds his hands behind his head. “I just found out I have three half-brothers, too. My dad was busy after he left us. I didn’t even know they existed until recently.”

  Everything he’s saying sounds so foreign from the Maxwell Marshall I know. How could he not have even known his brothers? Did something happen and they lost contact? It just doesn’t sound right.

  “Wow. I can’t imagine not knowing my sister.”

  His eyes remain on the storm. “It sucks but that’s life. I’m over it.”

  Lightning streaks across the sky again and he’s illuminated in the sudden flash of light. He looks tense despite his relaxed pose, the lines around his eyes and mouth more prominent.

  I turn away and look out at the rain. It seems unfair to watch him in such an unguarded moment, like catching him with his clothes off.

  Tank Marshall naked in any sense is not something I can handle right now.

  I reach for the bottle of brandy on the table and pour a little more in my glass. Hard liquor isn’t my thing but under the circumstances I don’t think it would hurt to have seconds.

  If I’m going to be stranded in the dark with Tank, I need a little liquid courage.

  I hold up the bottle and Tank nods. He holds out his glass for more. Even being careful, a little of the dark liquid splashes out onto his hand. He lifts his hand to his mouth and licks up the drops.

  My eyes follow the movement, the sight of his tongue sliding over his skin igniting a million different fantasies.

  “See something you like?” His brown eyes soften as he watches me, lingering on my mouth.

  I flush, the heat in my cheeks going straight between my thighs. It’s bad enough to have these fantasies about him. It’s unbearable for him to know about it.

  A man like Tank can have any woman he wants and no doubt has plenty, probably more than one at a time.

  Whe
reas I’m a goody two shoes, former Honor Society president who had only one boyfriend until college.

  Not exactly a good match.

  “Like I was saying, you’re just not what I expected. You seem, more normal than I would have thought.”

  He leans closer until our shoulders are almost touching. “You thought I was an arrogant meathead.”

  “You are arrogant. It would take a sledgehammer to chip through that ego of yours.”

  “I’m confident. There’s a difference.” He shrugs and smiles, a slow easy grin that makes my heart bang an extra beat in my chest. “It’s not my fault I’m always right.”

  “Modest, too.”

  “You’re not exactly as you first appear either.”

  He reaches over and takes the drink from my hand, setting it carefully on the table behind us.

  “You’re always so prim and proper but your hair tells the real story. It’s wild and untamed. You try to control it with these grandma hairstyles but it doesn’t work. This is goddess hair.”

  His hands thread through my strands, tugging until the band restraining the thick locks falls away. My hair falls in a damp golden mass around my shoulders, a tangle of waves spilling into his hands.

  “And these plain clothes.”

  He pops the first button on my shirt free revealing the lace at the top of my bra. I suck in a hard breath at the sudden look of stark need on his face.

  His eyes are fixated on the gap in my shirt. The rise and fall of my chest makes my breasts strain against the confines of my bra. I put a shaky hand over my heart and rub my breastbone.

  It feels like I can barely breathe.

  “But that’s not who you are, is it? There’s so much more inside of you. I can almost see it there beneath the surface, like the first embers of a fire that could rage out of control at any moment.”

  He leans closer until he’s directly in front of me, his big body between my legs completely invading my space. His scent curls around me, a rich heady aroma mingled with the crisp scent of rain.

  His fingers thread through my hair, skimming over my scalp and awakening a myriad of sensations. My head falls back, vulnerable and open to the soft probing lips that trail over my face and neck. He nips at the delicate skin right below my ear, licking and biting all the way down to the base of my throat.

  “Open for me, love. That’s it.”

  He lets out a soft growl when my mouth falls open on a pant. He takes advantage, his tongue dipping into my mouth.

  I can feel him all over.

  My nails dig into his biceps, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer. He feels just like a man should, his firm muscles flexing beneath my fingers. I take shameless delight in his obvious strength as he sits back and pulls me on his lap. My hands can’t stay still, roaming freely over his broad shoulders and the hard muscles in his chest. The friction is delicious, and every time my nipples brush against his chest, something clenches deep. He’s hot and hard beneath me and I can feel the stiff length behind his zipper.

  I want him inside, on top and all over me. I want to lose myself in him.

  His fingers run up the insides of my thighs. Oh god, how did he get my jeans off without me noticing?

  Even through my panties, surely he can feel how wet I am already. Then his thumbs slip past the cotton barrier and brush over my naked sex. I shudder at the touch. It suddenly feels like I’m aching between my legs.

  And empty. So empty.

  With that thought, I launch myself over his chest, fusing my mouth to his. He falls back with a soft grunt, wrapping his arms around me to keep us upright. A second later he has me under him, his hard body sliding in the cradle of my legs.

  His weight is a welcome distraction, all that delicious muscle on top of me. He kisses me like he can’t get enough of my taste, licking and biting and sucking. I’m helpless to stop it even if I’d wanted to.

  He holds me captive with his hands in my hair, his mouth insistent as he explores my lips, neck and throat. I’m suddenly not sure how we’ve gotten to this point, when we stopped talking and started kissing. I’m not even sure if I’ll regret this in a few hours.

  Oh my god, this is happening so fast.

  My logical mind tries to intervene but is quickly overridden by the exquisite sensations racing through me. I grip his shoulders and push back some, trying to put a little distance between us. I can’t think when we’re wrapped around each other.

  “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

  His gaze drops to my mouth again and he licks his lips, like he’s remembering my taste and missing it already. I groan. Everything about him calls to me, his broad shoulders, his nimble fingers, his tormenting mouth and most of all, his knowing eyes.

  I want him, whether it’s a mistake or not.

  “Follow me.”

  * * *

  Standing in the middle of my room, some of my reason comes back. Tank followed me down the hall and now reclines on my bed, his arms folded behind his head. The silence is a little unnerving. I think he’s waiting for me to change my mind.

  But that’s not what I want.

  Ever since the attack, it feels like I’ve been walking through fog. The simplest things induce panic and I struggle with constant uncertainty over what I should do, where I should go and what the future holds. But right here, right now, I’m not uncertain and I’m definitely not afraid.

  I’m alive. Only Tank makes me feel this way.

  “Come here,” he whispers.

  From anyone else the order would annoy me but from him, yeah I’ll come anywhere he wants me to. I crawl across the bed, newly aware of how my body moves.

  His eyes follow every movement, taking in the arch in my back, the placement of my hand between his legs and then my thighs as I straddle him. He looks up at me with hooded eyes and I’m slammed with a sharp ache deep in my belly at the raw, carnal desire in that look. He sees something he wants.

  And it’s me.

  “You are so beautiful. So perfect.” His hands skim over the skin of my arm and up into my hair.

  He always seems fixated on my hair. Now he’s gripping it, twisting the long strands around his fist. My eyes fall closed. He’s turned my hair into some kind of leash and the idea of him taking control that way is unexpectedly arousing.

  He pulls me forward and leans up at the same time until our mouths meet again. I can’t think with his mouth on mine. Suddenly, he turns us over, so I’m on the bottom and the weight of him settling on top of me is so good I groan out loud. His jeans rub right up against my panties causing the fabric to slip and slide through the folds of my sex.

  My head falls back and I grind against him shamelessly. Every rock of his hips has me right on the edge. I can feel the wetness on the inside of my thighs.

  He hooks a finger in the panties and pulls them to the side. Then his finger slides deep, pushing through my clenching muscles all the way up to his knuckle.

  “Tank. I need…”

  He bites my bottom lip and his eyes fix on mine, hot and hard. “I know what you need. You need this,” his finger plunges deep again, “and you need me.”

  He pulls away briefly to yank his shirt over his head and push his jeans down. I take the opportunity to shed the rest of my clothes. As I watch, he rolls a condom over his thick shaft, his eyes holding mine the whole time. My breath leaves my lungs on a helpless sigh. His cock curves up, long and thick almost to his belly button. It’s built on a large scale just like the rest of him.

  “Wow. You’re big everywhere, huh?” There’s nothing but pure feminine appreciation in my voice.

  He leans over me and whispers in my ear. “And you’re going to take every inch.”

  I shiver at the erotic promise in those words.

  When he climbs back on the bed, he settles himself between my legs and this time, there’s nothing to shield me from the heat and hardness. It feels amazing, being surrounded by him.

  Then he does something wit
h his hips that nudges his cock right where I need him. My toes curl and my fingers grab helplessly at the sheets. His eyes don’t leave mine as he flexes his hips again, this time thrusting deep.

  “Fuck, Emma. You feel so good. So tight and wet.”

  His big body presses me into the mattress so I can barely move. All I can do is grip his shoulders, my nails digging into the muscles as I’m forced to accept what he gives me.

  His eyes are on mine the whole time, watching my every reaction, my every whimper, my every shudder as he takes me with long, forceful strokes.

  I can’t speak. I can barely even keep my eyes open when he’s looking at me like this. It’s too much. Too much sensation and too much intimacy.

  My muscles grip him tightly as he thrusts again, then once more. He’s so deep, so incredibly deep that I’ll be feeling him all day tomorrow and maybe the day after that. He’s doing more than just making love to me, he’s branding me.

  The savage intensity in his eyes as he drills into me sends me over the edge.

  I scream when I come. I can’t hold back the sound as my orgasm tears through me, splitting me apart. Pleasure explodes, radiating out from where he’s buried deep within me and all the way down to my toes.

  As I clench around him helplessly, shaking with the last tremors of my orgasm, he hooks his hands beneath my knees and pushes them back toward my shoulders. The position spreads my legs, drawing him even deeper.

  His mouth settles near my ear and the things he’s saying as he thrusts into me, oh god, the things he’s whispering to me. He tells me how good I feel, how tight it is, how wet it is. No one has ever talked to me like this and I’m melting, just disintegrating as he mindfucks me in a way that I’ve never experienced.

  His deep growl of satisfaction as he comes pushes me even further away from sanity. It sounds animalistic, primitive.

  Then again there’s nothing civilized about Tank Marshall. And there never will be.

  Chapter Twelve

  Emma

  The following evening, I stand in the kitchen at Claire’s house stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce. Tank stands next to me awkwardly chopping onions.