was here to get her family’s land—the only thing standing between himself and complete control of his life.
She hummed a sleepy sigh against his neck. “Good night, Fake Jake.”
He stared at the ceiling of the cottage. That’s who he was, Fake Jake. He could write off tonight as a lapse in judgment. But from this point on, he’d need to keep his cock in his pants and his eyes on the prize.
6
Natalie
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Natalie tried to move but couldn’t. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In fact, it was quite lovely—like sleeping in a cocoon—when something hard pressed against her ass.
This was no ordinary cocoon.
She blinked open her eyes and glanced down to find a muscled and nicely tanned arm wrapped around her torso. And that something hard pressed to her backside? That was the magical cock of her fake boyfriend.
The first Jake to make her come.
Oh, she’d slept with the other Jakes. She’d twisted herself into a pretzel for each one, trying to be whatever woman she thought they’d wanted. Unfortunately, that meant faking a lot of orgasms.
But there was no faking the rush of carnal release that tore through her last night with her fake Jake. Nope, that round of intercourse didn’t require any pretending or sneaking away to finish herself off after an unsatisfying roll in the hay with a lackluster Jake.
It was still hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago, she’d thought her day was going to include a job offer and then a trip to Maine with her boyfriend.
Instead, she was here with Jake Teller. That’s what the TSA agent and the gate agent had called him, right?
OMG! She was only about eighty-six percent sure that was his name.
What a little vixen she’d become! Her mind went back to Jake number four. The jerk who’d said she wasn’t adventurous enough in bed. Well, screw you, Jake number four! Wait! She did not want to screw number four again. But look at her now, having mind-blowing sex with Jake number seven.
But he wasn’t Jake number seven.
He didn’t count as one of her Jakes, and she couldn’t get attached to this one. Even with his magical penis, he was still a Jake, and she was done with Jakes.
Done.
And then it hit her. Maybe ditching the Jakes would break the stupid Kiss Keeper Curse! Could the Jakes be to blame? Yes, it was crazy to blame a lifetime of bad luck on her dating pool of Jakes, but she had to do something, change something. And she would—after she got through this week with the help of her final Jake.
She craned her head back to get a look at her spooning partner when his hand slid from where it rested on her belly, and he cupped her breast. His thumb stroked the tight peak of her nipple as her body trembled, clearly remembering all the delicious things this man had done to it last night.
“Jake?” she whispered.
“Hmm,” he hummed as his hips rocked against her lazily.
Was he even awake? Was he this good of a lover even when he was unconscious?
“You smell so good,” he mumbled sleepily against the shell of her ear, and a shiver danced its way down her spine.
This man’s gravelly morning voice could melt panties.
Lucky for her, she wasn’t wearing any.
Half-awake, a fully erect fake Jake slid his cock past her delicate folds. Warmth pooled between her thighs as they made love slowly in a tangle of lazy limbs. She released a low hum of satisfaction when the distant sound of a bell carried in on the morning breeze.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
They froze.
“Is this real?” he asked, the grogginess replaced with a perplexed bend to his words.
She needed a little clarification. “What exactly are you asking about? There’s a decent amount of fake and real stuff going on between us.”
“This. Me, taking you from behind,” he replied.
She turned and caught his gaze out of the corner of her eye. “That part is real.”
He released her body, scrambled away, then sprang out of bed. “Jesus, I thought I was dreaming!” he said, running his hands down his face.
She wrapped the quilt around her body and stared at him, wide-eyed. He glanced around the cottage and pulled a doily off an end table and held it in front of his still very erect cock.
She couldn’t look away. “You need a bigger doily.”
“What?” he asked, completely confused.
She waved her hand toward his crotch. “I can still see your…”
“Shit!” he whisper-shouted, dropping the doily and substituting it with a