Just a Favor

His eyes fluttered open to soft sunlight spilling through the floor-length windows of the hotel suite, wrapping everything in a golden haze. For one brief, blissful second, he forgot where he was—until he caught sight of the glossy pink nails at the end of his fingers.

“Oh, right...” he mumbled, voice still husky with sleep.

With a resigned sigh, he swung his smooth, freshly waxed legs over the edge of the bed and padded toward the vanity, the silk hem of his robe brushing lightly against his thighs. He hadn’t planned on waking up in a luxury suite dressed like this, but then again, he hadn’t planned on agreeing to pretend to be his best friend’s girlfriend either.

He perched on the velvet stool, taking in his reflection. The girl staring back at him was heartbreakingly beautiful—soft, vulnerable eyes framed in thick lashes, plush lips still glossy and full. His makeup was still on from last night, slightly smeared at the corners, foundation faded in places, but even in this slightly disheveled state, it was hard to tell there was actually a man under it all.

He uncapped the little bottle of polish, steadying his hand with practiced grace. The glossy pink on his nails felt too sweet now—out of place with the black dress laid out behind him. Stroke after careful stroke, he painted over it with a deep red. His chest rose and fell slowly. How did he let his best friend talk him into this?

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. For a weekend. Just to impress his friend’s ultra-conservative parents. Just a favor, he kept telling himself.

He stood and let the robe slip off his shoulders, pooling around his feet in a soft whisper of silk. The black, off-shoulder dress waited for him on the bed, shimmering faintly in the morning light. He picked it up and stepped into it, pulling the zipper up slowly, letting it bite into the curve of his waist. It was snug. Unforgiving. Gorgeous.

Next came the makeup—foundation first, smoothing over his face like warm silk. Then contouring, expertly sharp, giving his jaw a soft feminine slope. His fingers glided with practiced care, brushing rose gold shimmer across high cheekbones and adding just the right smoky edge to his lids. Lipstick followed, a glossy mauve that tied it all together.

Then his hair. The curls had held surprisingly well overnight. He touched them up carefully, letting each soft wave fall into place around his face. He hated how good he was at this now.

The heels sat near the foot of the bed—strappy black stilettos with open toes and towering heels. He sat, crossing one leg over the other as he began to fasten the thin buckles around his ankle, the arch of his foot rising dramatically in the impossibly high heel.

That’s when the door clicked open.

“Damn, you look hot, babe,” his friend said, voice thick with smug affection. He leaned in the doorway, eyes sweeping over the picture-perfect woman before him.

He rolled his eyes, adjusting the second strap. “Don’t call me that. I’m not actually your girlfriend, okay? I’m just doing you a favor.”

“Mmm,” his friend hummed as he sauntered forward, fingers brushing her bare shoulder. “Right, right… so last night was just part of the favor too?”

His heart stuttered, fingers pausing mid-buckle.

“You know, when you were on your back?” he continued, voice dropping an octave. “Your legs pinned over your head… moaning like a slut while I pounded your tight little ass—whimpering, gasping, telling me how good it felt every time I slammed deeper?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper. He looked away, pretending to focus on his heels—but his thighs pressed just a little closer together, and his breath came just a little quicker.

His friend only grinned wider. “Yeah… that’s what I thought, babe.”

They started walking toward the door, his steps careful, the heels clicking softly across the polished floor. His friend’s hand settled on the small of his back—light, possessive—and just before opening the door, he leaned in close.

“Be a good girl for my parents,” he whispered, his breath hot against his ear. “And I’ll make you feel even better tonight.”

His cheeks flushed deep red, and he bit down gently on his lower lip, trying to stop the little smile tugging at the corners. He didn’t know what bothered him more—the flush on his cheeks, the sway in his walk, or how much he was counting down the hours until tonight.