Pretend You're Mine

by Crystal Kaswell

  It feels so fucking right, bringing her all this pleasure.

  She feels so fucking mine.

  I need her to be mine.

  She pulls back with a heavy sigh. “Fuck. Ryan. Oh God.”

  “Louder.”

  “Ryan.” She turns her head to one side as she groans my name again and again.

  She pulses against my fingers as she comes.

  When she’s finished, I release her. Bring my hand to my lips. Suck the taste of her from my fingertips.

  She stares at me in a trance. Lust or love or need, I don’t know. But I know I need it.

  All of it.

  “Take off your dress,” I demand.

  “Take off your suit.”

  “Come here.”

  She moves closer. Undoes the knot of my tie and tosses it aside. Fumbles over my buttons. Pushes my shirt off my shoulders.

  I kick off my shoes. Step out of my slacks.

  Her eyes stay glued to mine as she undoes the zipper of her dress.

  She pulls it over her head and lets it fall to the floor. “Bed now.”

  Her apartment is tiny. It’s a dozen steps to her bed. I fall backward onto it. Take her hands. Pull her body on top of mine.

  She stares down at me with every ounce of affection in the world.

  I drag my fingertips up her stomach. Over her breasts, collarbones, shoulders.

  I cup her over her bra.

  She reaches behind her back to unhook the black lace then slides it off her shoulders.

  “Fuck.” I bring my thumb to her nipple. “So much better than I imagined.”

  She groans as I draw circles around her nipple. “I’m safe. And I’m on the pill. If you’re—”

  “I am. You sure?”

  “A hundred percent.” She plants her palms on my chest and slings her leg over my hip. “I feel like I’m in a dream.”

  “You are my dream.” I press my palm against her back to pull her closer.

  She gasps as I bring her nipple to my mouth. “Fuck.”

  I suck softly. Then harder. She tastes so fucking good.

  And the way she’s responding to me—

  Fuck.

  I bring one hand to her hip. Guide her body over mine.

  My tip strains against her.

  Then it’s one inch at a time.

  Fuck.

  I suck harder on her nipple.

  “Ryan.” She knots her hand in my hair. “Oh God.”

  Her groan is exactly what I need.

  It’s everything I need.

  She stares down at me as she rocks against me.

  That’s Leighton on top of me.

  That’s her soft, sweet cunt wrapped around me.

  That’s her groan filling the room.

  I toy with her nipples as she fucks me. Watch her brow knit with pleasure. Watch her lips part with groan after groan.

  She reaches to her hair, pulls out the pins, lets it fall over her cheeks. “You feel so fucking good.” She digs the heel of her hand into my chest. Uses it for leverage to lift her hips then drive down on me.

  My last conscious thought flees my brain.

  My world is a blur of Leighton. Her purple hair falling in front of her blue-green eyes. Her red lips curling in pleasure. Her nails digging into my chest. Her cunt pulling me deeper.

  Her groans run together.

  They get higher.

  Needier.

  I bring my thumb to her clit. Rub her as she drives down on me.

  “Ryan, fuck.” A groan falls off her lips. Another. Another.

  She drives through her orgasm, rocking her hips against me, grinding against my cock and fingers.

  I flip her onto her back. Pry her thighs apart. Plant my hands outside her shoulders.

  With one hard thrust, I drive into her.

  She wraps her hands around my back to pull me closer.

  My body sinks into hers.

  Her legs wrap around my thighs.

  My lips find hers.

  I thrust into her with steady strokes. I savor every soft, wet inch of her. Every groan. Every gasp.

  Every fucking part of her.

  We stay pressed together, limbs tangled, tongues dancing together until I’m there.

  Pleasure spreads out from my pelvis.

  My cock pulses as I come inside her.

  Fuck.

  I rock through my orgasm. Once I’ve spilled every drop, I collapse next to Leighton and wrap my arms around her.

  She looks up at me with a hazy smile.

  I pull her closer.

  And I hold her like I’m never going to let her go.

  Chapter 29

  Leighton

  Light bounces off the hardwood floors. It’s soft. White. Morning light. It’s way too early to be awake light.

  But there isn’t a single part of me that wants to stay asleep.

  The apartment is warm. The air smells like coffee. And Ryan is sitting at my dining table wearing nothing but a smile.

  Soft light falls over his hard body. My fingers itch to trace the lines of his muscles. His ink. His smile. The soft tuft of hair just beneath his belly button—

  “My eyes are up here.” He stands.

  With me lying down, his cock is right at eye level.

  I…

  Uh…

  “You’re objectifying me.” He reaches for something on the table. Brings it to his lips. Really, above the waist it’s all a blur.

  “Was that ever a question?” I prop myself on my elbow. Force myself to stare into his piercing blue eyes.

  They’re wide with enthusiasm, joy, satisfaction.

  He’s still smiling.

  There isn’t a single hint of frustration in his expression.

  Ryan’s happiness is the best thing I’ve ever seen.

  Okay, it’s second to watching him come. But that’s not a fair competition.

  “I’m more than a beautiful face.” He offers me his mug of coffee.

  The sheets fall to my chest as I push myself up. “Your body is also amazing.”

  My fingers brush his as I take the cup. It’s good coffee. Dark. Strong. Just enough half-and-half and Sugar in the Raw to make it sweet and creamy.

  “Mmm. Amazing.” I try to hand it back.

  He shakes his head keep it.

  “Thanks.” I revel in my second sip.

  “You don’t have any food.”

  “I never have food.”

  “I’m gonna change that.”

  “You’re going to stock my fridge for me?”

  “Yeah.” Light falls over his side and torso as he sits next to me on the bed. “You got a problem with that?”

  “Will you cook it for me too?”

  “Try and stop me.”

  My smile spreads over my cheeks. I scoot closer to him. Until my thigh is pressed against his. And my shoulder is against his. And I can feel all the warmth of his skin against mine.

  His fingers brush my thigh. He draws circles over my skin, a mindless gesture that screams I love you.

  My fingers skim his temples. “You already put in your contacts?”

  He nods.

  “I don’t get Ryan in glasses?”

  His brow rises with surprise. “You like them?”

  “Of course.” My voice gets dreamy. “I love them.”

  “Don’t have them on me.”

  “Will you wear them at your place?”

  “You like them that much?”

  My nod is the definition of enthusiasm.

  He brushes a stray hair behind my ear. “I don’t know. Can you convince me?”

  My sex clenches. Yes. I should convince him. I should drop this coffee and convince him right now.

  I restrain myself.

  Take a long sip. Offer him the mug.

  He shakes his head. “It’s yours.”

  “I think I love you.” My cheeks flush. “I mean, um, it’s just an expression.”

  “I know.”

  I hi
de behind my mug.

  “Do you?”

  I do. And I’m pretty sure he knows. But I’m not ready to say it yet. Not so straightforwardly. “I have a strict policy. No declarations of affection for twenty-four hours after sex.”

  “The oxytocin fucks with your judgment.”

  I nod. “Mmm. I do like an educated man.”

  He chuckles. “College had its uses.”

  “There is the oxytocin. But it’s more that it’s easy to love someone who’s making you come.” I slide off the bed. Leave the cup on the table. Spin on my heels so I’m eye to eye with Ryan. “Usually, it’s twelve hours. But I had to double it on account of how great the sex was.”

  His smile spreads over his face.

  My cheeks flush. This is weird. Amazing, but weird. I’m a giggly schoolgirl again. I’m on a fucking cloud. I’m floating.

  My hand finds his hip. God, will I ever get tired of touching him? Soft skin. Hard muscles. All those lines of ink.

  And it’s Ryan.

  My best friend.

  My favorite person in the entire world.

  The guy I’ve been lusting after for two years is still naked in my apartment.

  I’ve died and gone to heaven. Really, I have.

  “This is surreal,” I whisper.

  “Good surreal.” His lips skim my neck. “We’re due at work in two hours.”

  “Can we ditch? Stay in bed all day?”

  “You can, yeah. I have appointments.”

  “Have Dean do them.”

  He shakes his head in horror.

  “Kidding.”

  “I know.” He releases me as he takes a step backward. “Let’s go out. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

  “What about your car?”

  “Dean moved it into our parents’ driveway. I’ll get it tonight.”

  “He has your keys?”

  “Parents have a spare.”

  “What do they think of Penny?”

  “They don’t know why it ended. Think I was an idiot to leave her.” He shrugs. “They’ll get over it.”

  Have you? Are you all the way there yet? I bite my lip. I can’t bring myself to ask. I don’t want to hear the answer. I don’t want to think about her.

  Right now, everything is perfect.

  I want to float on that for a while. “Dean’s been trying to help me. I think.”

  “Help you do what?”

  “Get in your pants.”

  “Dean helping someone get laid isn’t weird.”

  “But it’s more—”

  “I know.”

  “He warned me not to hurt you.”

  He raises a brow. “That’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t—”

  “I know. But I did.”

  He nods. “Yeah. But it wasn’t you. It’s me.”

  No. It was my lie of omission. But why retread ugly things?

  He grabs his slacks-currently hanging over a chair—and steps into them.

  “Do we have to get dressed?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “We could—” My stomach interrupts me with a low growl.

  Ryan laughs. “We will. After.”

  “But work-”

  “After that.”

  I pout.

  His chuckle fills the room. “Get ready. We’ll eat. I’ll make you come later.”

  “You promise?”

  “You’re gonna have to beg me to stop.”

  “Two.” Ryan smiles at the hostess. Yeah, I wore this last night. What’s it to you?

  She giggles as she hugs two menus to her chest. “Right this way, sir.”

  He’s still wearing his suit. I’m in a casual dress and wedge sandals and he’s in a suit.

  God, he wears that suit.

  How can he look so good in everything? And nothing?

  He presses his palm into my lower back to lead me to our table.

  The hostess arranges our menus then motions to our seats. “Your server will be with your shortly.” She shoots Ryan another nervous smile then gives me one of those is she really competition once-overs.

  He catches her staring. Wraps his arms around my waist. Pulls me into a long, deep kiss.

  The possessiveness of the gesture sets me on fire.

  Does he want that as badly as I do?

  He must.

  I sigh as he pulls back. My knees knock together. I press my palm into the table to steady myself, but it’s not enough.

  Ryan brings his hands to my hips. He helps me onto the bench seat then slides in next to me.

  My heartbeat picks up.

  I’m all thumbs again. I can barely open my menu.

  Ryan runs his fingers over the hem of my dress. “You all right?”

  I nod.

  “You really get your first three clients last week?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s amazing, Leigh.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You start work on them?”

  I nod.

  “Can I see?”

  “Of course.” I pull up my cloud storage app and find the designs. The first—a historical romance with a woman in a glorious dress—is done. The second two, both smutty covers with shirtless models showing off their six-packs, are works in progress.

  I hand the phone to Ryan.

  He studies each image like it’s something going on his body.

  The waitress stops by. We order. He continues staring.

  She drops off our coffees.

  He continues staring.

  I down my entire mug in three long sips.

  He continues staring.

  Finally, he hands my cell back. His knee brushes mine as he turns toward me.

  He stares into my eyes. “Fucking amazing.”

  My blush spreads to my chest. There’s so much earnestness in his voice, his eyes, his smile. Praise from Ryan is rare. And it’s always earned. “Thank you.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know.” I want to believe it, that I’m good enough to do this on my own. That I’m skilled enough to deserve Ryan’s praise. “You’re my biggest fan.”

  “I am.” He runs his fingertips over my chin. “We didn’t celebrate your class finishing.”

  “We weren’t talking.”

  “You weren’t talking to me.”

  “You apologized for kissing me.”

  “I thought you were in love with Dean.”

  “I know.” I lean into his touch as he runs his fingertips down my neck.

  “If I’d know it was me—” He traces the neckline of my dress. “Fuck. I don’t know what I would have done. I can barely comprehend it now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He leans in to press his lips to mine.

  It’s a soft, slow kiss.

  It isn’t enough.

  But then nothing is enough.

  He pulls back with a needy sigh. “Hold on.” He leans in for another kiss. This time, his teeth scrape against my bottom lip. His tongue dances with mine. His groans vibrate down my throat.

  The kiss is a promise.

  I want you. I need you. I’m going to make you come until you pass out.

  He pushes himself from his seat and disappears around the corner.

  I take a minute to check my makeup with my cell phone camera. Winged eyeliner, under eye concealer, bronzer, brows, berry lipstick. I look awake and badass and over the fucking moon.

  But I don’t need the camera to tell me that.

  Ryan slides back into the booth. His leg nudges mine. His fingers brush my thigh.

  They go higher, higher, higher.

  Then they slide under my dress.

  I press my forehead to his chin. “Fuck, Ryan.”

  “Yeah?” He drags his fingers higher.

  Higher.

  Higher.

  His fingertips skim my panties. The soft fabric brushes against my sex. It’s too much friction. And it’s not enough.

  I need his hands on me. “Please.”

 
; “Here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll get arrested.” He rubs me over my panties.

  “I don’t care.” My breath hitches in my throat.

  “At the shop.”

  “At the shop?”

  “Yeah.” His index finger finds my clit. He rubs harder, pressing cotton into my tender flesh. “I’m gonna wait until everyone’s gone, then I’m gonna set you on the counter, tear off these panties, and lick you until you’re screaming my name.”

  “Ryan—”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  The term of endearment sets me on fire. It isn’t the first time he’s used that pet name, but it’s the first time it’s been for me. “Say it again.”

  “Say what again, baby?”

  “Mmm.”

  He rubs me harder.

  “Please.”

  “You can beg all you want. You’re still gonna wait.”

  My eyelids press together. My fingers dig into my knees. Then into his. It’s too much. I’m too close. I need to come. I need him. I need—

  “I hear we’re celebrating something.” The waitress’s voice snaps me out of my lust.

  I press my knees together and slide into the booth, breaking his touch.

  Fuck, every part of me is buzzing.

  I can barely see straight. The waitress is setting down something. A plate of blueberry pancakes. Only there’s a lit candle in the stack.

  She smiles as she drops off Ryan’s house omelet, refills our coffees, takes her leave.

  Candle.

  Pancakes.

  Breakfast.

  Oh.

  He waits until she’s out of earshot to motion to the plate. “We need to celebrate you finishing your class.”

  “My what doing what?”

  “You all right, Leigh? You look—”

  “Like I need to come.”

  His smile gets cocky. It should be obnoxious, but it’s not. It’s so fucking hot, him reveling in how desperately I’m wound around his finger. “Yeah.”

  “Ryan—”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  My groan isn’t even close to a word.

  He brushes his lips against my cheek then nips at my earlobe. “This is accomplishment, Leigh.”

  That sounds reasonable. Maybe. My body is still screaming for his touch.

  “And getting your first clients. It’s fucking amazing.”

  I suck a breath between my teeth. Let out a heavy exhale.

  My nerves settle enough for me to grasp what we’re doing here.

  There’s a candle on my pancakes. To celebrate my class ending. It’s weird and cheesy and sweet as sin.