RING ME: A Fake Fiancé Romance

by Flite, Nora

  Sheathing a condom over his cock smoothly, he lifted my feet to my ears on the pillow. I was exposed to him completely. Bending his head, he licked my slippery clit, my pussy, and he moaned. “Fuck me,” I begged, trying to push against his mouth.

  His muscular arms held my ankles tighter. “I want to say not yet, but I can't. Knowing what I was doing to you at the poker table... I nearly jizzed in my pants.”

  New ripples of arousal made my pussy convulse. “It was that hot?”

  “Beyond hot,” he said, staring at me, his blue eyes shimmering with passion. “I've always wanted to do something like that. Thanks for indulging me.”

  I didn't reply, not in time, anyway. I lost the ability to make anything but guttural moans and whimpers as his massive cock entered me. Conner kept his hands on my ankles, feet by my ears, fucking me so deep and hard I shook in my bone marrow. I came more than once, but I couldn't keep count—everything was a Gaussian blur of pleasure.

  “Beautiful,” he said against my hair. “Perfect. All of you... everything... these breasts, your ass, your sweet cunt, all perfect. Maya, I... ah!” Gritting his teeth, lips curling, he crushed me as he came.

  The embrace made me sore, but a comforting pain, like getting a deep tissue massage. Conner brought me conflicting emotions, confusing sensations, but they always left me dazed. This was bliss.

  Maybe... when things are fixed with my family... Conner and I can date for real. Maybe, it could work.

  I wanted it to.

  “ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD time?” he asked me.

  We'd traveled to the top deck, walking in the fresh air beneath the cloudy, late evening sky. Pretty lights on strings let everyone walk around without fear of tripping over the railing and falling in the river, especially since many were on their third or fourth drink.

  “Definitely. This boat is something else.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I wasn't sure if you'd like it.”

  I almost said Sure, how could you know? We only met a few days ago, but I stopped myself. “Do you like boats?” I asked.

  “My mom loved the water. She took me down to the river a lot, and we'd float paper boats.” He smiled with a distant look on his face. “Once, she bought me this killer red sail boat carved from real wood. I loved it. All the other kids were jealous.”

  “Is red your favorite color?” I asked, knowing he knew mine was blue.

  “I don't think I have a favorite, but red is up there.”

  “How about food?”

  His forehead scrunched while he laughed. “Is this twenty questions?”

  “I'm just trying to learn more about you.”

  “One fact about me, is that I'm more interested in learning about you. What are your favorite things?”

  I pulled up short, and when he looped his arm around my shoulders, I leaned into him. “Spending time with you is quickly becoming one of them.”

  Cupping my chin, he guided me to his mouth for a fierce kiss. I tasted his desire for me; it was easy to identify, it mirrored mine for him. Something wet trickled down my shoulder, then again and again.

  “Oh no,” a woman gasped, shielding her head with her purse. “It's starting to rain. Let's get inside the boat.”

  She wasn't alone; many people followed her example, emptying the entire top deck until only a few stragglers lingered, some too drunk to care, others standing under the thin tarp surrounding the captain and his steering wheel.

  Holding up my hand, I watched the water collect in my palm. It wasn't cold—if anything, it refreshed me. “Rain,” I whispered.

  “Hm?” he asked.

  Blinking up at him, I flashed a childish smile. “It's one of my favorite things. Come on.” Catching his thick wrist, I pulled him across the deck. It had cleared out; the dance floor was ours alone.

  Laughing doubtfully, he let me take his other hand. “Are you sure? What if you catch a cold?”

  “Then you'll just have to nurse me back to health.”

  Flames glowed in his eyes. “Fair enough.”

  There was a speaker on a pole over our heads. It was connected to the level where the live band was playing. With their invigorating jazz music gallivanting around us, Conner and I twirled through the drizzling raindrops.

  My hips ground against him, his fingers gliding down my naked arms. He held me around my waist, grinding with me, matching my motions. He was a great dancer.

  “This is also one of my favorite things,” I laughed.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. My ex hated dancing in public, so I never got to.”

  Conner made a face, then he spun me in a tight circle, dipping me so fast I gasped. Grinning down at me, he asked, “how could anyone be so stupid as to miss a chance to dance with you?”

  Tongue tied, I gazed upwards at him. Rain swept over his temples, flattening his hair that still rebelled and tried to stand upwards. He shielded me from the dark clouds, and though I knew the glow around his profile came from the bulbs strung along the boat, it felt like the sun and stars were shining through to give him a personal halo.

  Tangling wet fingers in his wetter hair, I held him tight, kissing him as the white noise of the storm swelled around us. This was magic. I didn't have another word for the moment. What had I done to deserve such happiness?

  We spun to the music until it began to fade. The band was taking a break—this was the one downside of live music. Accepting it as our cue to stop, we wandered to the edge of the boat. Some stragglers still talked in pockets, but we were nearly alone on the deck.

  There was a bridge around the bend, the arches of it curving upwards above the river as smaller boats passed beneath. “This has to be one of the most romantic places in the city,” I mused, looking out at the colored lights twinkling by the riverside. “If we were getting married for real, I'd pick this boat. I bet it's crazy expensive, though.”

  “Not as much as you'd think,” he said absently. I stared at him, eyebrows knotting up. He saw my look and straightened off the railing. “Let's go back inside, the rain is coming down hard now.”

  He was right; my hair was going from damp to soaked. People laughed as they rushed back into the safety of the boat. He held out his hand towards me. “Maya,” he implored.

  My hand latched onto his.

  I followed him out of the storm.

  Chapter 11

  The Party

  “ARE YOU READY?”

  I looked up at Conner as he asked the question. “No. Definitely not. But here we go anyway.”

  “It's going to be fine,” he assured me. He said it so certainly that I believed him. We climbed out of his Mustang, our shoes squishing on the soft dirt. The paved part of Pappy's driveway was full of other cars—my mom's, probably my aunt's, too, I guessed.

  As we climbed the wooden steps of the porch, we passed a massive oak tree to our right. Its branches created deep shadows that we walked on top of. I'd climbed that tree countless times.

  “Is that one of your birdhouses?” Conner asked.

  Looking upwards, I smiled at the sight of the blue-roofed yellow birdhouse. “It is.” My smile melted when I noticed the heavy, warped branches of the oak tree were sagging on one side. The biggest limb had a crack in it where it met the trunk.

  “That's weird,” I mumbled.

  The green leaves swayed in the gentle breeze, bits of sunlight peeking through and highlighting the backs of Conner's ears and the edges of his hair. He moved, making me focus on his face. He saw something in my eyes, then he reached down, curling my hand in his. “What is it?”

  “The tree.” I pointed over our heads. “It looks rough.”

  “Probably from all the rain we've been having. Look, the ground is still muddy. Storms are never a tree's best friend.”

  It was a reasonable answer, but I still felt the deep, wriggling tug of uneasiness in my gut. Then the door opened, and I had something new to worry about.

  “Maya!” My aunt gasped, holding the door wid
e, looking me up and down. “Oh my gosh! How long has it been? How are you? And who is this?”

  Her questions were rapid fire. I've never been known to buckle under pressure but when it came to my family, and to this tangle of a lie I was about to thrust in their faces, my aunt's questions left my mouth dry. “Hi!” I managed. “This... is...”

  Conner stepped forward with a friendly smile. “Conner Whynn. I'm Maya's fiancé.”

  “Fiancé,” she whistled. She gave me a side-eye, wiggling her eyebrows. “And I thought you'd never date again, shows what I know.”

  I forced a hollow laugh. “Hey, is my mom here yet?”

  “Peach is in the back, helping make sure my husband doesn't burn the hot dogs. So! Conner! Come inside, tell me all about yourself.” She swept her arm around his and tugged him into the house. I followed behind, shrugging helplessly at his silent plea for help. I didn't know how to get my aunt away from him. She'd always been very hands on.

  As my heel touched down on the threadbare rug inside my grandpa's house, memories flooded back. Sawdust and varnish and caramels; he'd spent his time crafting birdhouses. I'd helped him in my own way, painting roof tiles or tiny window panes, and afterwards, he'd reward me with candy he'd slipped from the kitchen. His wife, my grandmother, had made the most delicious treats.

  No one had tasted anything like them since she'd passed away. Once, I'd tried to get the recipe from my mom, but she'd clammed up, insisting it was too painful to ask Pappy to find the recipe in all the disorganized boxes in the house.

  I slowed down when I walked by a row of photographs on the fireplace's banister. They were all photos of me, or faded pictures in sepia browns of my mother and her sister. Jemine was slightly taller, but their smiles in every picture were big and bright and perfect.

  They were so happy back then.

  Now, they were in a silent fight to win their dad's heart. When had everything gone so wrong? Had my family always been so tit for tat, and I'd just been unaware?

  My guts twisted as I thought about the lie I'd invented to help my mom. I loved my Pappy. Could I really look him in the eye and pretend I was in love with a man I'd just met?

  “Maya, there you are.”

  My mother was standing in the hallway, eyes half-squinted in the low-light. Her long red hair was wound on top of her head in a gelled bun. She was smiling big enough for me to see her chipped front tooth, but the bags under her eyes spoke volumes about her exhaustion.

  Some laughter echoed from behind her, coming from the backyard. “Mom,” I swallowed. “Did you meet...”

  “Conner, yeah.” She glanced over her shoulder briefly. “He's—handsome.”

  “Is that all you can say about him?” I laughed nervously.

  “Well I just met him, honey.”

  Me too, I thought.

  “You're frowning. What's wrong?”

  “Nothing, I'm fine,” I said hastily. “About Conner... there's more to him than just looks.”

  “I figured. Otherwise you would have just brought Ben.”

  Grimacing at my ex's name, I walked around my mom and towards the backyard. “I'm going outside. It's stuffy in here.”

  Shielding my eyes, I stepped through the backdoor. I was hit with a number of things all at once; bright sunshine, loud voices, and the delicious smell of grilled meat.

  And there, wearing a tan apron with Kiss the Cook sewn onto the front, tongs in hand, commanding the searing heat of the cherry-red grill... was Conner.

  I blinked a few times to make sure I was seeing straight. Had I jumped back in time to our pancake morning? My grandfather was leaning on his walker next to him, laughing heartily while also overseeing the operation. Jemine's husband, Lennard, was hovering by the cooler, clearly trying to act like he didn't mind having his position as cook stolen away.

  “Maya-bean!” Pappy crowed when he spotted me. “There's my girl. Thank you for finally bringing a real man around! This boy can cook!”

  Lennard grumbled something—my aunt threw her head back and snorted. Conner shot me a bemused smile, turning a hot dog with his tongs. He did look like a pro in front of the smoking grill. Like some combination of Liam Hemsworth and a dad from a Lowe's Summer Catalog.

  Suddenly my ovaries were assaulted. I was picturing Conner in the backyard of our own picturesque home as our kids ran around kicking a soccer ball, their giggles ringing in the air, and he'd kiss my cheek as he made sure the burgers and dogs were grilled to absolute perfection.

  Everyone was staring at me. “Pappy, happy birthday,” I blurted.

  His chin arced back as he let out a long, deep, satisfied chuckle. I knew he'd just turned 78, but he radiated energy and light. His body had changed with time, but not his soul. Before he could walk to me I rushed to him and crouched down, wrapping him in a firm hug. “It's so good to see you, Maya,” he said in my ear.

  “You too.” Squeezing him extra tight, I let go and stood. Conner was smiling at me over Pappy's head. I recognized the love in his eyes—the way he saw my love for my grandfather. It was a moment of clear understanding. A moment where he felt like an old friend and not a stranger.

  My mother's comment about Ben came back to me. It soured my stomach, so I kissed Pappy's cheek and buried the feeling down deep. “I'm glad you approve of Conner's grilling skills,” I said.

  “I learned from my mom,” Conner replied. “She was a GrillMaster.”

  “That's really nice,” my own mom said, joining us by the grill. “Dad tried to teach me and Jemine, but we never had the gift.”

  “Lord knows I tried to pass it on,” Pappy sighed.

  My aunt offered a long platter to Conner. “Dogs look ready, load them up and let's taste your hard work.”

  Once we were all sitting around the picnic table, our paper plates heavy with meat and potato salad, my aunt wasted no time getting down to business.

  “Sooo,” she drawled out. “Show us that ring already.”

  Blushing, I extended my hand with my fingers spread. She grabbed my wrist, as if she was catching an animal, grasping tight so she could peer at the diamond. I wondered if she thought it was fake. The gem wasn't. The engagement itself, well...

  My aunt whistled. “That's gorgeous.” She let me go, turning her hawkish attention to Conner. “You must be well off to afford a rock like that.”

  “Auntie!” I scolded.

  “I'm just saying! It's huge! What do you do for a living, Conner?” Before he answered, she cut him off. “Weird I have to ask. Always thought I'd know my niece's future husband better by the time she was engaged to him.”

  I wrung my fingers in my lap. I wanted to argue but I... couldn't. My backbone was melting away. I'd gone this far but I'd already lost my nerve, and what was I thinking, trying to fool my family into believing that some man they'd just met was someone I actually planned to marry?

  “We both know this is coming as a surprise,” Conner said. I lifted my eyes—he was staring right at me with his vivid blue eyes. “I mean, I only met Maya recently. All of this has been breakneck speed. Crazy fast, really.” I cringed at his bluntness. “And I wouldn't change a thing.”

  I blinked. Had I heard him right?

  Everyone was shifting in their seats. I couldn't read the room because I was busy gawking at Conner. He wouldn't change anything about this? Did he mean that?

  “My wife,” Pappy said, drawing our attention to him. “The first time I met her, she was dropping off a basket of eggs to my partner on our farm. He wasn't around, so she asked if I could deliver them for her. I said yes, right after she agreed to go out to dinner with me.” He chuckled as he relived the memory. His joy stirred my heart.

  “Daddy, did you really?” My mom asked. She had her fingers over her mouth but it barely hid her smile. “She never told me that story.”

  “Oh, no, she wouldn't have,” Pappy said. “Your mother was fiercely proud, and she'd been given enough scolding about how fast she started dating me, I know it was a sore spo
t for her. Times were different back then.” His attention went fuzzy, like he was staring backwards into his own history. When he looked at me, I braced myself. “Maya, don't let anyone tell you the 'right' speed to fall in love. That's not something anyone can control.”

  My aunt grumbled something, then pushed herself from the table. “I'll go grab the watermelon from the fridge.” Her shoulders were pinched together as she walked stiffly into the house.

  Mom gave me a little nudge. I got her meaning: Good job!

  Her happiness was obvious to me.

  What I wanted to know, though...

  Was how Conner really felt.

  THE AIR SMELLED LIKE a burning campfire long after we'd cleaned up our meal. I'd helped put everything away until my mother had flapped her hands at me, insisting she and Jemine would clean the mess.

  I was sure she was trying to show her father how helpful, how doting, she could be, especially with her sister navigating the scene with a confidence that came from being on the property more often.

  Not wanting to get in the middle of their one-up battle, I wandered through the grassy backyard until I hit the tree line. My grandfather's home was on a large piece of land. It was attached to a farm, but I knew he owned much more than the small cornfield I could see. He and his partner, before the man had died, had owned the business going back fifty years.

  The number of farms they rented out and took royalties from in this county was immense. He lived a simple life, but Pappy's estate was wealthy. Suddenly, the cornfield below made me queasy.

  If there was no money here, I wouldn't be in the middle of this whole mess. I hugged myself and shivered in the cool breeze. I could be back in the city, working on my own business, and not dealing with...

  The ground crunched behind me. I turned, seeing Conner approaching. He shielded his eyes from the blazing red setting sun, smiling in his usual relaxed way. Pappy's house was a dot over his shoulder in the distance. “Hey,” I said.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry if I walked off without warning. I didn't mean to make you come looking for me.”