Chapter 8

chapter

eight

Maxine

I wake up at some point in the middle of the night with Andrew's hot naked body pressed against mine. He's hard and nestled up against my ass and one of his large palms covers one of my tits.

I don't think he's awake at all, but my pussy is drenched just from him being so close to me. Every part of this man is magic, and I want another hit before I have to go back to my real life. The life where I'm just shy of being an actual doctor but had to quit school because my grandfather thinks I'm too fat.

But this beautiful man behind me thinks I'm perfect just the way I am. I reach behind me, between our bodies and guide the thick mushroom shaped head of his dick to my entrance.

He groans in my ear as he slides all the way inside me. "Maxine, sweet thing." He licks and nibbles on the back of my neck while his fingers and hand play with my tit and his pelvis rocks him in and out of me. His pace is leisurely, nothing like the frenzied fucking we did earlier.

No, this feels a lot more like love making. I reach up and grab the back of his head, just to press him closer to me.

Once upon a time I'd believed in romantic fairy tales and happily ever afters. That person is still inside of me, and she desperately wants this man to be her happy ending.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears that I know are coming, forcing myself to just feel the pleasure of our bodies.

"I could wake up every day to the feel of your bare skin next to mine," he murmurs. "God, I love the way your pussy feels around my dick."

His hand slides down my body and grips my hip. Then his fingers are between my folds and circling my clit, slow, slow, slow.

"Andrew," I breathe. "Just like that, please don't stop."

"I'll never stop. I'll make love to you forever, sweet thing."

That's when my orgasm crashes over me. Pulse after pulse of pleasure shudders through me.

"Fuck, your pussy is squeezing my cock so hard. Goddammit, Max, I'm gonna come." His fingers dig into my hip again and for some reason I hope he leaves bruises. Some kind of mark that proves he was here.

He bites the back of my shoulder playfully. "I think I might have to keep you for a little bit longer."

I force out a chuckle, then make my way to the bathroom to clean up and relieve myself. By the time I come back to the bed, he's already fallen asleep.

I should probably just leave now. Walk away before I get too attached and have my heart broken. But looking at the thick sweep of his lashes shuttering his soulful eyes, I can't make myself walk away. At least not yet.

The following morning, I wake up to the heavenly scent of bacon and coffee. Even if it's bacon flavored coffee, I am all in.

I quickly get myself dressed, finger-brush my teeth and go in search of fat and caffeine. As I pass through Andrew's living room, I stop at his Christmas tree. The colored twinkly lights are already lit, illuminating the various ornaments.

It's not a professionally decorated tree like they have at department stores. There are no matching, colored glass balls or specific color schemes or themes. No, these are ornaments that clearly mean something to him.

There are ones that look as if made by a small child. An upside-down palm print painted onto a card and then made to look like a reindeer. One of the googly eyes has fallen off though.

Then there are several from all over as if he collected them as he'd traveled to different places. This is what a Christmas tree is supposed to be. Not those manufactured ones I grew up with where a team of servants would put together something so perfect looking. You were never allowed to touch it or even stand too close.

A sense of longing I don't quite understand surges inside of me and my eyes start to sting.

"Come'er, sweet thing. I made coffee. I know you love coffee," Andrew calls from the kitchen.

How does he know that? I mean aside from everyone generally liking coffee. So it's a decent guess. But when I get into the kitchen, he has my favorite creamer out on the counter as well as the special no-calorie sweetener I use.

He holds out a mug to me. "Here, darlin',"

"Thank you." I take a sip and it's perfect. Before I can ask him how he knows how I take my coffee, there's a ringing sound that blares through the kitchen.

"That's them," he says, giving me a wink. "Come meet my family."

"I should get dressed first," I say. Then skirt away from him. Once I'm back in his room I put my bra on under the scrub shirt I'd already tossed on. My panties from yesterday are in less than great shape so I put them on inside out, then pull up my scrubs. I toss my dark hair up into a messy bun, then quickly wash my face.

I creep out into the living room and listen.

"I still can't believe you're not coming home until after New Year's," one of them says, his sister, maybe. "I think this is the first time you've missed."

"No, you remember, Audrey. There was another year when he couldn't come because all the flights were cancelled due to weather," an older man says. Probably Andrew's father.

"But he's got the narwhal to keep him company," the sister says again.

Narwhal? What kind of narwhal is he going to be spending time with?

"When do we get to see her for ourselves?" an older woman asks.

Wait. Her?

My breath catches in my chest as it hits me.

I'm the narwhal.

Wow, he called me a fucking narwhal? Like, okay, I guess that's better than just being a regular whale because narwhals are pretty cool with their horns. But still, a whale.

He called me a whale.

This guy that I thought was so amazing. So kind and funny. Too good to be true.

Right.

What's that old saying? If someone seems too good to true, they probably are. Well, that's certainly true.

I can't believe I fell for his bullshit, and here he is telling his whole family he bagged a fat chick.

I step into the room.

"There she is. Come meet my family, sweet thing," Andrew says, holding his hand out to me.

The contrast between his tone and his words is so sharp it's like a slap in the face. For one horrible minute, I don't think I can walk out of here. Certainly not without bursting into tears.

But I can't do that. I can't let him get the better of me.

"The set just called and there's some kind of medical emergency, so I've gotta get going, actually."

"I'll go with you," he says. Concern etches his features.

"No. You need your rest. I've got this." Then I turn on my heels and leave.