Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend Book 1)

While I pull my pants up and tuck myself away, Damon watches me with a satisfied smile on his face even though he’s not the one who got off. “What?” I ask.

“They’re gonna know. Your cheeks are flushed, and you’re all loose. Dead giveaway.”

“Well, coming hard does that to a guy. Why are you smiling wider?”

He steps forward. “Because I like that I’m the one who did it to you.” When his lips find mine, they’re soft and tentative, so I force my tongue into his mouth to harden the kiss, but he groans and pulls away. “Don’t start or we won’t be leaving this room.”

“I’m totally okay with that.”

“We should make sure my friends aren’t grilling Matt.”

“Oh shit. I kinda forgot I dragged him here.”

When I head for the door, Damon stops me. “I really am sorry. I saw the tabloid photos, and it drove me crazy.”

“I’m not the one you should apologize to. If you and Matt are going to work together—”

“I’ll go apologize now.” Damon kisses me one more time, and instead of the cringing, itchy feeling I normally get after a hookup—not in the STD way but the I-need-to-get-out-of-here way—all I want is more. All I want to do is go downstairs, say goodbye to everyone, and take him home.

Our fingers intertwine, but as soon as we reach the stairs, he lets go. “We don’t need to give them any ammunition.”

Even though we aren’t touching, that doesn’t stop the intrigued and smug looks we get from everyone when we rejoin them. I try to ignore them and not give anything away, but my cheeks still have that post-orgasmic burn, and I worry they’re fucking glowing.

“Okay, let’s try this again now someone’s not a cranky asshole,” I say and approach Matt and Noah where they’re talking in the living room nook. “Damon, this is Matt. Matt, Damon. Hey, Matt Damon. That’s funny.”

Damon manages a smile and holds his hand out for Matt. “Hey. Sorry about earlier. As Maddy said, I was a cranky asshole.”

“Maddy, huh?” Noah taunts. Damon ignores him.

Matt gives Damon a chin lift and shakes his hand. “Maddox has told me about you, so I get it. The tabloids have made us out to be a couple, and it’s kinda shitty considering all Maddox is doing is trying to help me.”

“Yeah, you’re having issues with your current management team?” Damon asks.

Matt looks from Noah to Damon and then stares at his shoes. “Uh, yeah. Ever since my … news broke.”

“On that note,” I say, “Noah and I are going to get a beer while you guys talk shop. Lead me to your kitchen.”

I follow Noah, and he hands me a beer from his fridge.

“You found a way to make Damon apologize?” he asks.

Why, yes, I put my cock in his mouth. “Uh …”

“You might have to tell me your tricks, because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch usually.”

Yeah, I won’t be telling Noah to do it my way. I shrug. “I explained the situation and told him he was wrong.”

“And that worked? Damn, my friend has it bad.” Noah corners me against the bench, crossing way too many human decency boundaries, and I’m about to push him off me when he speaks low. “I’ll lie if you ever repeat I said this. As you’ve probably been told, I don’t have many friends, but Damon’s one of the few good ones. So, treat him right, okay? Be upfront with him if you’re … having doubts.”

My eyes narrow, and I take a stab that he knows about Damon’s hang-ups. “I’m not ashamed to say I want him.”

Noah steps back. The intimidation is gone as he says, “You a Call of Duty man?”

“Uh …” I take a second to recover from my interrogation. “I’m in.”

We kick off Wyatt and another guy from the game, and Noah sends them on a beer run seeing as I’m apparently drinking the last one. Damon and Matt stay in the corner, talking in harsh whispers. The concentration line on Damon’s face is hot as fuck. It’s weird to think ten minutes ago that same guy had his mouth wrapped around my dick, but staring at Damon from afar, one thing is clear. I want more. A lot more. I don’t think I’ve come that hard since … probably since I lost my virginity to Chastity and blew in like twenty seconds flat.

“Concentrate.” Noah’s voice snaps me to attention.

I don’t know how long Noah and I play, but people come and go behind us. I’m vaguely aware of greetings and goodbyes.

“I’m out,” another voice says behind us. Don’t know who it is, and I don’t bother looking. Noah and I are too busy commandeering a chopper and killing bad guys, because we’re motherfucking badasses.

“Go, go, go,” Noah yells at me.

“I am!”

“Kill faster, noob.”

I don’t know if he’s calling me that because he knows I’m a same-sex virgin or if he’s mocking my COD skills, but I can’t smack talk him back because a loud booming voice snaps us to attention.

“Babe.”

I turn to Damon. Did he just call me—

“You weren’t answering to your name. Matt’s gone. You wanna …?” He tips his head in the direction of Noah’s front door.

I scramble to my feet so fast everyone finds it comical, but I don’t care. Damon and I will be back at my apartment in twenty minutes—tops.

“Practice safe sex,” Noah calls after us.

Damon flips him off, but not for long, because I grab his hand and drag him out the door.

***

For all the eagerness I had to leave Noah’s place and get back to my place, my hands tremble as I try to unlock my door. It doesn’t help that Damon’s pushed up against my back and his lips are on my neck. The sensation sends a jolt straight to my cock.

When I drop the keys to the floor, I let out a curse, and Damon chuckles against my skin.

“I’ve got it,” he says and dips to pick up my keys.

I stand completely still, staring at my door like a moron.

Damon’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. “You okay?”

“Is it stupid that I’m legit nervous right now?”

He drops his hand and steps away. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“Oh, I’m ready … for, uh … stuff. Maybe not … uh …”

“Ass stuff?” he says with a laugh. “Got it. I probably shouldn’t mention the fact I usually like to top, right?” His easy smile relaxes me.

“Of course, you do. And …” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not exactly against … err, ass stuff, as you call it. Best feeling ever is a finger up there while getting a blowjob.”

A throat clears, and Damon can’t contain his amusement as his eyes lock on someone behind me. He tries to hide his smile by rubbing his jaw.

I turn to face my neighbor—my elderly neighbor. “Hey, Mrs. Jacobs.” Mortification doesn’t begin to describe this moment.

Mrs. Jacobs grumbles something about the youth of today and pushes past us in the narrow hallway.

“How about we finish this conversation inside your apartment?” Damon asks. As soon as we’re inside and we’ve taken off our jackets, he’s back onto my now least favorite topic in the world. “So, you’ve been holding out on me. You could’ve said something while I was blowing you.”

“I couldn’t remember my name, let alone think to give you instructions.” I step closer. “You definitely didn’t need any guidance.” When I try to close the distance, he steps back.

“Who was it? Was it M—”

I sigh. “No, Matt didn’t play with my ass. Funnily enough, he never went near it in the four—no, five—months we fooled around. And speaking of fooling around, can we please get to it already?”

“Wait, I want to hear more.”

I groan. “Why?”

“It has to do with your ass, so I’m interested.” He hasn’t lost his damn smirk.

“I don’t know if I like playful Damon. Where’s the serious and uptight guy who’s hotter than fuck when he loses control and blows a guy in his friend’s guest bedroom?”

Damon’s green eyes darken and fill with lust.

“There he is,” I taunt and move closer again. This time, he lets me get within a foot before he stops me.

His hands go to my hips. “Maddy.” His voice—so tortured. “Are you sure?” He winces. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be insecure and annoying. I never used to need this much reassurance.” He lets out a sad laugh. “And you thought you were the head case.”

I swallow my irritation, because it’s not at Damon. It’s at the shithead who messed with him. “I have an idea.” Grabbing his hand, I drag him over to my bed and push him down on his back, but I don’t join him. Not yet.

My tiny closet is full from top to bottom and left to right. I push aside my work shirts, but they don’t go far. I have to pull off some impressive contortionist moves to reach into the back for my ties. I’m lucky enough to work for a laid-back firm that I don’t have to wear them in the office.

“What are you doing?” Damon asks.

I almost get swallowed whole by the closet. “Aha.”

Damon’s eyes narrow when I pull out a tie.

Cautiously, I approach him and reach for the hem of his shirt to take it off. Then I nudge him. “Move up the bed.” He wiggles his way up so his head hits the pillow, and I climb on top of him, straddling his hips. I have to close my eyes and fight the urge not to rut against the hardness beneath me. “Hands above your head.”

“I’m not really into kink.” That doesn’t stop him from lifting his hands or me from tying him to my headboard.

“Calm down. It’s just a little bondage. I promise not to spank you or make you call me sir.”

He snorts.

“It’s loose so you can easily get out if you want to. It’s more a mind over matter thing. You’re not the one who’s going to be doing the touching, so anything that happens here will be all on me. It’ll be everything I want to do.”

My eyes meet his, and I freeze. It’s an odd moment to have an epiphany-like event. But being this close, me on top of a half-naked Damon, our mouths inches apart, and sharing the same breath, I finally get it. I don’t give a shit about labels, because I don’t need to. All I need to care about is making this guy mine.

The possessiveness takes me off guard, because I’ve never had that with anyone. I don’t even know if the feeling is temporary or long-term. The only thing keeping my mouth glued shut is the fear it will go away. I don’t want it to. All I know is, I’ve never wanted anyone more, and if he makes me chase him for months like his sister did, I’d do it. And I wouldn’t give up this time, because it’s different with Damon. This isn’t about sex. If it was, I would’ve ditched Damon as soon as I found out about his issues and hooked up with Noah instead. Or a chick. I wouldn’t be willing to tie Damon to a bed just so he’d let me touch him. I wouldn’t care to work through the shit going on in his head.

My epiphany might be insignificant to most people, but Maddox O’Shay realizing he wants to try a relationship? Better call NASA, because I’m sure an asteroid is headed for Earth.

“You okay?” Damon whispers.

I’m frozen on top of him. “I don’t know,” I say truthfully. I’m not going to start spouting random I-want-you-so-fucking-bad speeches.

When he struggles against his restraints, I reach up and wrap my hand around his wrists to stop him before he freaks out.

“Let me finish. I don’t know, because I have no fucking clue where to start. There are so many dirty images running through my head right now, and I want to do all of them.”

He relaxes and that easy grin of his takes over. “That’s simple. I want you to kiss me. So start there.”

Our mouths come together, and even though I’m the one on top, and he’s tied to the bed, Damon’s the one in control.

The kiss we shared at Chastity’s wedding is a blur now. I don’t remember if he tasted like he does now—warm with a hint of beer on his breath. I don’t remember the stubble around his lips. The adrenaline pumping through me wore off and took my exact memories with it. And earlier tonight was frantic—the pent-up tension from the last month releasing itself in the moment. This time, I’m going to savor it.

Damon has other ideas. His hips roll and lift off the bed, grinding against me.

“Someone’s impatient,” I say.

“Yeah, well, someone else has already gotten off tonight. Maybe he’s not impatient because he hasn’t been hard for hours.”

“Hours … really? It’s been like two. There are starving kids in Africa.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Damon asks.

“Isn’t that what you measure everything against? It was my sister’s comeback for everything. If I complained of being cold, she’d say—yeah, well, there are starving kids in Africa. Meaning, there are always people worse off than you.”

“I dunno. Pretty sure you can die from blue balls.”

“Pretty sure you’re lying,” I say.

“Fine. It just feels like I’m dying.” He rolls his hips again. His cock rubs against mine, and fuck, he is hard. Impossibly hard.

“Guess I have some work to do then.” My lips drop to his shoulder, and I pepper light kisses down his chest.

Foreplay for me has always been just that—a way to get a girl ready so I could fuck her. And as selfish as it is, if she got off while I went down on her, it meant I didn’t have to work as hard while fucking her. Yeah, I’m a real catch. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the foreplay, but more it was a means to get to where I needed to go. With Damon, I want this. I’m enjoying his shortness of breath and his moans as I kiss his skin. I like exploring his hardened body, because I’ve never experienced it before. It’s new and exciting and hotter than I ever anticipated.

The only downside to this is I feel like a teenager again. My hands tremble, and insecurities about not knowing what the fuck I’m doing seep in.

But then I gaze at Damon and take in his slightly parted mouth and his flushed cheeks and think I’ve so got this.

I move agonizingly slow on purpose, not only because it seems to frustrate him, which turns me on, but because it gives me time to work through the nerves. I need to get over them soon because I won’t be able to keep this level of control for long. I want him under me. On top of me. All over me.

My mouth traces his hairless chest, and I love the smooth, flat skin of his pecs under my tongue. I moan around his nipple, and he hisses. As I move farther down, a small trail of dark hair leads from his belly button to my end goal.

He lets out an impatient grunt when my hands fumble with his belt and zipper. I glance up at him, and his biceps bulge as he holds onto the headboard he’s strapped to. I already know Damon doesn’t like giving up control. Having me take the lead has to be hard for him, but for me, seeing him on the last thread of his restraint, I’ve never seen anything sexier.

I’m the one in charge, and the power trip goes straight to my head.

Leaning back on my heels and kneeling in front of him, I reach back and take my shirt off. I want skin on skin. I want everything.

Damon watches me as I climb off the bed and stand. His eyes follow my hand as I drop my pants and kick them off with my shoes and socks. He helps me by toeing off his own shoes, and then I’m reaching for his jeans.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “Do you know how hard it is not to boss you around right now?”

“Yup. And I love it. This is my show.”

Damon throws his head back. “Can you at least go a bit faster?”

What do I do? I take off his pants and boxers so slow I’m sure it’s some kind of record for the slowest undressing in history.

“Just so you know, I hate you,” he grumbles.

“You won’t in a minute.” I blanket his body, our cocks lining up perfectly. The smallest roll of my hips has me panting. “God, this feels good,” I say as our bodies move against one another.

“Take us both in your hand,” he orders.

“My show,” I remind him. “Or do I need to gag you like you did to me?”

“You can stop me from talking by kissing me.” Damon loves my mouth, I’m finding out. And I’m one hundred percent cool with that.

I put all my weight on my left side as I kiss him, and move my right hand down and in between us. It’s hard to get my fist around us both, but I slick us with precum from … I don’t know which one of us it’s from. Probably both.

I’m painfully hard, my balls heavy and my cock ready to explode. I give us a hard pump, and the air turns serious. Gone are the jokes, the teasing, the going slow. My wrist is at an odd angle, but the pain isn’t enough to take away from the pleasure zinging through my body. All that’s left between us is the need to come.

It takes all my strength to hold off. I don’t want Damon to come in my hand—I want my mouth on him—but I’m reluctant to pull away.

Damon rips his mouth away from mine and grunts.

“Not yet,” I say and frantically release us both. “Come in my mouth.” I don’t know where my boldness has come from, and after my nerves, part of me thinks I would be a little hesitant to do this, but I’m not. I want it. I want it all. In an instant, I’m sliding down him so I’m eye-level with his impressive cock. Its velvety skin is pulled tight, ready for release.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Fucking duh.”

I never understood when girls say they love giving head because it means they’re in control. I’m always like Yeah, okay, you’re the one with my cock in your mouth. Pretty sure fucking your face means I hold all the cards. But as my mouth wraps around Damon, and he squirms underneath me, I understand it completely. I’m in charge of when he comes. I’m the one driving him crazy. His salty skin tastes so fucking good I could do this forever. Or until my jaw locks up—one or the other.

And okay, yeah, relaxing my throat is difficult at first because my gag reflex is telling me I can’t take much more, but I’m determined to be awesome at this. Except, when I push through it, I push too far, and a weird snorting choking sound comes out of my nose, because I refuse to clamp down on Damon’s dick.

“You don’t have to take it all,” Damon says, his voice breathless. “Do what you like being done to you. You’ll know if I like it.”

In that case, I grip the base of him with my hand, and the heel of my palm makes circles on his balls.

“Fuck yes,” he hisses.

I continue to pump my hand while I suck the tip of him in my mouth and slowly move down his shaft. My tongue finds that sensitive vein on the underside of his dick, and if the oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck that comes out of his mouth has anything to say, I guess he likes that.

His encouragement turns me on the most, and my dick leaks. I need to touch myself. My spare hand reaches between my legs, and Damon’s “Ughnamlgh” has our eyes locking.

“So hot watching you touch yourself. I’m gonna …”

I suck harder with my mouth. He comes on a strangled cry, and he fills my mouth. I’m hit with more of his saltiness, and the taste has me shooting all over my hand and on his thigh. The orgasm makes my brain short-circuit, and I’m cut off from the rest of my body.

I can’t even bring myself to climb up next to him right now. Flopping onto the mattress, I roll onto my side, my face right next to his crotch.

“A-plus for effort,” Damon pants. “B-minus for technique. We’ll work on it.”

I try to slap his ass, but my arms are lead, and I can only reach his leg. “Ass.”

“I’m kidding, I swear. That was …”

“Awesome?”

“Yeah. That. Come up here.” His hand runs through my hair.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be tied up.”

“Like you said, it was loose. Come. Up. Here.”

I wiggle my way up next to him, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders and brings me into his side.

“Regrets?” he asks quietly, as if expecting me to say yes and kick him out.

“Can’t regret coming like a motherfucker twice in one night.”

“Do you want me to get out? I know how you manwhores hate when a hookup outstays their welcome.”

I pull back. “You think this was a hookup? After I told you I want to date you?”

Damon shrugs. “I thought the dating was going to be separate to … uh …”—he waves his hand around—“this.”

“Granted, I haven’t dated a lot of people—okay, no one—but isn’t it all the same? I want you to stay the night.”

“Can we at least clean up before we pass out?”

I roll on top of him and cover more of him in my come. “Can’t move.”

“We’ll have a quick shower. Together.”

“Sold.” I jump out of bed and practically race him to my bathroom.