My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,32

the hazy blob of Lorenzo. Though it’s blurry, I can tell what’s happening as his hands massage the bubbles across his chest . . . down his abs . . . to where he takes himself in hand and gives himself a few good strokes.

Oh, God! Is he jacking himself off?

I’m mortified until his hands continue their trek, washing his thighs. It’s then that I realize this heat is not mortification. It’s disappointment. I want to watch him boldly fuck his hand right in front of me and watch him find his release while his eyes are locked on mine.

I squeeze my thighs together, honestly considering whether there’s a way for me to touch myself and get off quickly without Lorenzo being the wiser. It wouldn’t take but a few strokes across my clit, I’m certain of that. But even as my desperate pussy argues with my logical mind and my hands wander up my thighs, the water shuts off and I miss any opportunity I might’ve had.

Lorenzo steps into the bedroom, a white towel tucked around his waist. “Abigail? You okay?” he asks, his brows knit together in concern.

I must look extra crazy if he’s asking so gently. I can feel the flush on my cheeks, the wetness between my thighs under this robe, and the racing of my heart. “Yep, my turn.”

I get up and swish past him into the bathroom. I consider being just as bold as he was and leaving the door open as I shower, but I’m not that brave. So I push it closed with a foot, dropping my robe, and climbing into the shower. A cold shower.

It doesn’t matter, though. I’m so hot, the steam is coming from me instead of the water, and a naughty thought steals through my mind. Lorenzo is on the other side of the door now, not able to see me the way I could him. If I’m quiet . . .

I bite my lip, leaning back against the cool tile of the shower wall and letting my fingers dance down my belly. No time for foreplay, not even with myself this time. This has to be fast. I swipe through the moisture gathered at my center and massage it over my clit in a small circle.

“Abigail?” Lorenzo’s voice calls out from the other side of the door.

“Yes?” I say, hoping my voice sounds natural.

“What about our story? How we met? The proposal and wedding?” he says. Is it my imagination or does he sound strange? His voice is tighter than usual.

“Oh!” I say, half in answer to him and half because I tapped on my sensitive bud. I bite my bottom lip for strength and try to answer as my fingers keep moving. “Let’s keep it as close to the truth as possible. We met at Courtney’s wedding and hit it off.”

Until he ran out.

I let the negative thought float away as pleasure begins to rise higher.

“Yeah, and then we got married on the beach. Just the two of us, because that’s kind of what happened today.”

His voice is definitely sounding strangled. I imagine him on the other side of the door, jacking off as I touch myself, and even the mere idea turns me on even more.

“But it would’ve had to be sooner, not today. A fast . . . really fast . . . build-up,” I gasp out.

“To our wedding. You wearing white and saying my name.”

I don’t think we’re talking about an imaginary wedding anymore.

“And now we’re on our honeymoon, blissfully away from everything and everyone at home. Just the two of us.”

I grunt and bury my sealed lips against my shoulder to keep quiet as a wave of ecstasy washes through me. I keep tapping at my clit, prolonging the orgasm until I’m jerking with release and overstimulated.

“That sounds great. Love it, mia rosa,” Lorenzo says quietly. He sounds relieved too, and I wonder again.

I quickly wash off and step out of the shower to dry off. Wrapping up in a fresh towel, I walk into the bedroom to find Lorenzo.

Only, it’s empty.

“Lorenzo?” I call out.

“In here. I got dressed while you were showering. Go ahead and get ready. They’ll be here soon.” His voice is in the living room now, leaving me alone with my thoughts and spent body.

He’s right, though. I need to hurry and get ready.

I pull on a white sundress Archie picked out as a vacation option. Beneath the thin gauze, I pull on a nude thong because it’s