Fake Boyfriend - Miley Maine Page 0,34
of my body, sliding my pussy up and down his cock.
I placed my hands on his shoulders and did my best to hang on. All through college my friends had asked if I was glad I waited to have sex.. The answer was a definite yes. I was glad I’d held onto my virginity, because it meant my first time was with Jackson.
In college, I’d heard from those same friends that men were inconsiderate and uncaring in bed. I didn’t doubt them. They slept with idiot frat boys who spent all their time planning keg parties and beer pong games. Not that there was anything wrong with planning a party or two, but that was all they cared about, and to hear their girlfriends talk, they really sucked in bed.
I’d found Jackosn just the opposite. I suspected losing my virginity to such an experienced man made all the difference. I laid my head on his shoulder and breathed in his masculine scent as he fucked me. He smelled like pine needles and cedar. And I never wanted to let him go.
We settled into the Jeep for the drive to the wedding hotel. I wasn’t the most patient car rider in Georgia, but I’d never get antsy looking at the Alaskan landscape. The smell of a recent campfire clung to our clothes. I pulled my hoodie tighter around my body. I wasn’t ready to rejoin the real world. I’d liked my time with Jackson, hidden away from the world. I hadn’t seen any news, or watched any television.
“I could have stayed there for another month,” I said. I really could have stayed permanently, but I didn’t want to creep Jackson out by making him think I was going to start following him around.
Jackson had not only shown me how to clean and cook a fish, he’d also talked me through making fish jerky, so I’d be able to make my own once I had access to an oven.
I pulled a ziplock bag full of deer jerky from his backpack. He’d made it on his last hunting trip and preserved it, so it was still good.
I handed him a piece and bit into my own. “This is so much better than the packaged kind in the store.”
“No preservatives,” he said. “Other than salt.” He glanced over at me. “Did you go into stores?”
“Did I go into stores? What do you mean.”
He kept his eyes on the road but took one hand off the steering wheel to gesture. “I assumed since you were wealthy, that you’d have someone to shop for you.”
“Oh. That.” I’d been living in a kind of fantasy world again, where I was pretending I was a normal person out with a hot hunky guy, and not the crazy rich girl who didn’t do her own errands.
His eyes cut back over to me. “Is that an offensive question?”
“No. It’s not offensive. You’re not wrong. My parents have personal shoppers who do all the errands, and they have a chef. So if I did want or need something, I could call him.”
“But you don’t want to?”
“No. I mean, it’s convenient. I certainly would never complain. But during college I went to the store myself, and I got addicted to it.”
“How do you get addicted to going to the store?”
“Because the chef is world-class. But he makes frilly dinners that I’d never be able to replicate. Because I wanted to learn to cook for myself, and it’s easier to do when you start off at the beginning of the process. And because sometimes it’s embarrassing to have someone else buy the donuts and Cheez Its that you’re craving.
“Your bodyguard went with you?”
“Oh yeah. He followed me around while I picked between oatmeal milk and almond milk and while I learned how grapefruits and oranges look the same before they’re cut up.”
“You’d never seen whole fruit?”
“I’d seen plenty of it in a bowl. But the chef always served them already sliced,”
Jackson was laughing and shaking his head.
I covered my face with both hands. I was tempted to pull my shirt up over my head and hide. I poked him in the arm. “I am fully aware of how ridiculous I sound.”
He snickered out loud then. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m really just trying to picture what it would be like to be so catered to by other people.” His right hand found my left on for a quick squeeze.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you teased me. I’d probably tease myself.” I’d