Fake: A Fake Fiance Romance

by Rush, Olivia

  Chapter 27

  Bryce

  I couldn’t explain why, but I didn’t like the idea of leaving Chelsea by herself. It wasn’t a possessive thing, but more that I had a bad feeling about it for some reason.

  I shook off the feeling, chalking it up to me simply being a bit nervous at the possibility of her turning down my offer. The more I thought about it, the more I knew she’d be perfect for the job.

  The only issue was her constant, maddening lack of self-confidence. It was strange—she was talented and brilliant and capable, not to mention headstrong, but when it came to putting skin in the game, she always seemed to hold back.

  But there was no rushing her into the decision. She was either going to agree to it or not, and I had to respect her wishes either way. Still, I knew where I stood on the issue.

  Inside the apartment, I was taken over by the urge to get some alone time of my own. I ordered myself another drink after I weaved through the gathering, putting in my pleasantries when necessary.

  Drink in hand, I surveyed the scene. I couldn’t go out onto the balcony, what with Chelsea being out there. Then I remembered that Martin had an amazing little terrace just outside of his bedroom.

  “Martin,” I said. “Do you mind if I check out your terrace? I remember the view being amazing from up there.”

  “Sure, kid,” he said. “Just don’t go rooting around in my underwear drawer while you’re up there.”

  He gave me a hearty slap on the shoulder. I ascended the spiral stairs leading to the second floor and made my way down the wide hallway. However, once I reached his bedroom, I noticed something strange.

  The door was open. Someone was in there already.

  Martin’s wife was downstairs, so I knew it wasn’t her.

  I stepped up to the door quietly and peeked in. Sure enough, I could see the figure of someone in there, a woman. Her shapely form was shrouded in darkness, and she was humming a bright tune that slipped out of key in only the way a more-than-slightly drunk person would do.

  “Hello?” I asked, opening the door enough to enter.

  “Oh!” came a bright, feminine voice.

  The figure whipped around, blonde hair bouncing all around her face.

  It was Felicity. Her blue eyes were wide with shock, her ruby-red lips in a big round “O.” She was in the process of trying on a very expensive-looking dress, the top pulled up in front of her ample breasts.

  “Oh my god!“!” she shouted out into surprise.

  “Damn, calm down,” I said. “It’s just me.”

  Relief washed over her face.

  “Bryce, darling,” she said, “you gave me an awful fright.”

  “If you didn’t want anyone coming in and scaring you, then you should’ve shut the door behind you.”

  “I couldn’t have possibly—” she said.

  I stepped away from the door, letting her see that it was cracked open.

  “Oh my goodness,” she said. “The bubbly must’ve gone to my head more than I was expecting.”

  “You want to tell me what you’re doing up here?” I asked.

  “What,” she said, “are you pulling security duty too?”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t be such a Boy Scout. I told Martin I was feeling a little light-headed and that I needed some air, and he mentioned the balcony in his bedroom and told me to come up here for as long as I needed.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you’re wearing someone else’s dress,” I said.

  “Well, funny story, that. As I came up here I saw that one of the closets was still open. And inside were some of the most gorgeous dresses that I’d ever seen. Turns out they were Martin’s wife Emily‘s. She’s a bit on the young side, if you haven’t noticed, and we’re actually the same size. I couldn’t resist having a little fashion show.”

  Before I could say a word, she turned around revealing the fair expanse of her back, the dress zipper undone.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Do you?” I asked. “You think Emily’s going to be happy if she finds you up here wearing her clothes?”

  Felicity rolled her eyes.

  “Please,” she said. “That girl’s got so much vodka in her that she likely doesn’t even know what planet she’s on. Now, would you?”

  “I will if you change back into your own clothes afterward.”

  Her pretty features formed into the bratty pout I’d seen so many times when we were dating.

  “Fine, fine,” she said. “Just come on and do it.”

  I set my drink down and stepped over to her. As I got close, I noticed the familiar, lilac scent of her perfume. I took hold of the zipper and drew it up slowly, Felicity wiggling her butt with excitement as I did so.

  Once the zipper was up she turned around, an excited expression on her face.

  “Well,” she said, “what do you think?”

  She placed her hands on her waist and cocked her hips to the side. The dress was nice, no doubt about that. It was a dark red, the fabric hugging Felicity’s curves. And her breasts looked about ready to pour out of the thing.

  “Looks like it was made for someone who wasn’t nearly as busty as you,” I said, lifting my gaze and stepping back.

  “I don’t know if you’re intending that as a compliment, but I’m choosing to take it as one.”

  “It was intended as a statement of fact.”

  Felicity flicked on the light over the three-sided mirror, posing herself this way and that.

  “Oh, Ducky,” she said. “Doesn’t this remind you of all the nights we spent getting ready for parties in London and Hollywood?” She sighed contentedly. “Those were some good times we had,” she said. “Sometimes I find myself missing them.”

  “What,” I said, “you don’t have Hunter to drag to your awards parties?”

  “I do, but he’s no fun,” she said. “He has his charms, but…” She took in a deep breath, her breasts pushing out. “Oh well,” she said. “The past is the past. And you‘re…you’re…you’re married!”

  “Not married,” I said. “Engaged.”

  “Which means you’re all but married,” she said. Then she turned to me, a coy expression on her face. “Gets a girl thinking, you know?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Here,” she said, turning back around. “I’m ready to be a good girl now. Help me out of this thing, would you?”

  I reached forward and jerked the zipper down.

  “Ducky,” she said, turning to face me, a sultry look on her face. “I suppose there is an important distinction between ‘married’ and ‘engaged.’ The key point being that you’re still free to have some fun.”

  Before I had a chance to say a word, Felicity slipped her thumbs into the dress on both sides of her breasts and slowly took it down. She first revealed her red bra, then the smooth, flat expanse of her stomach, then the matching red thong she had on underneath.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “You miss all this?”

  It was strange. The body on display before me was about as perfect as they come. And it was a body that I was intimately familiar with. As Felicity stood before me for the taking, however, I didn’t feel a thing.

  Actually, that was wrong. I did feel one thing—annoyance.

  “Come on, Ducky,” she said. “Just a little tumble for old time’s sake.”

  I glanced over at the bed where a few dresses had been laid out.

  “Which one of these is yours?” I asked.

  “What?” she asked, a slight shock to her voice.

  “I said, ‘which one of these dresses is yours’?”

  “That one,” she said, pointing toward the light blue dress in the middle.

  I reached over and grabbed it, handing it over to Felicity. She took it, looking down at the thing in confusion as though I’d just handed her a book in Greek and asked her to start reading from it.

  “You’re serious?” she asked.


  “Serious as a heart attack,” I said.

  Her expression turned from surprise to one of indignation, that bratty, I-can’t-believe-I’m-not-getting-what-I-want look that I’d found so not at all charming when we were a couple.

  “I’m offering myself to you, and you’re saying no?” she asked. “But why?”

  “Says a lot about you that you’d ask something like that to an engaged man.”

  “You know what?” she asked, stepping into the dress and pulling it up over her body. “I don’t even care. You want that dull-as-dishwater computer geek? You can have her.”

  “Thanks for understanding,” I said, a trace of sarcasm on my voice. “Call Hunter up here if you need the zipper pulled up on that one.”

  I left the room, picking up my drink on the way out.

  As I stepped back into the hallway and raised my drink to my lips, I thought again about how strange it was that turning Felicity down had been so easy. I could’ve easily taken her up on her offer—it’s not like I actually was engaged.

  But Chelsea had a hold on me, one that I couldn’t figure out. What had started out as a scheme had turned into something more right underneath my nose.

  And I was horny as hell—but not because of Felicity. Well, maybe inadvertently. Watching her peel that dress off had only reminded me of the night of that first party, when I’d gotten Chelsea home after all that wine and pizza and stripped her down to her bra and panties, claiming her, making her mine.

  I stepped back down onto the main floor, scanning the crowd for Chelsea. After a few seconds of looking, I spotted her. She was doing the same, her eyes darting around. Once she found me an expression of relief came over her. The two of us made a beeline for one another, throwing our arms around each other when we were close.

  I couldn’t help myself. I brought her to me and kissed her hard—I didn’t care who was looking.

  “I think we need to get out of here,” I said softly into her ear.

  “That’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

  Chapter 28

  Chelsea

  We rushed out of the building, the cool evening air exactly what I needed.

  “Where is the limo?” I asked, so turned on that I could hardly think straight.

  I don’t know what had done it, but seeing Bryce again, feeling his lips against mine, made me want nothing else than to be naked with him as quickly as I could. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to make it home.

  “Should be here soon,” he said. “I sent him a text on the way out.”

  Bryce put his hands on my hips again, turning me toward him. I closed my eyes and stood on my tiptoes, waiting for the kiss I knew was about to come. When his lips touched mine, I felt like I might come apart at the seams. His hands moved along my hips and over my breasts, my nipples puckering hard at his touch.

  “There it is,” I said, taking his lips from mine.

  Sure enough, the limo that had brought us here was now at the curb. I didn’t want to wait for the chauffeur to come and politely open the door for us. There was nothing polite about what was on my mind.

  Bryce was apparently thinking the same thing. He hurried over to the limo, opening the door and letting me in. Once we were both inside, he shut the door and turned to me.

  “Back to the apartment, Mr. Carver?” asked the chauffeur.

  “No,” said Bryce. “Why don’t you take us for a drive around the city? I’m thinking the scenic route.”

  “You got it, Mr. Carver.”

  With that, the blacked-out partition rose up. As soon as it was sealed, Bryce pounced on me like a jungle cat, his eyes wild with passion. It was a striking contrast to the Bryce I’d come to know—that calm, in-control man who never lost his cool.

  “There’s something about you, Chelsea,” he said. “Something that makes me feel like I’m not myself.”

  My body positioned underneath him, I raised an eyebrow.

  “Is that a good thing?” I asked.

  He leaned and kissed me along the curve of my neck. The sensation of his lips on my skin was so firm and soft and divine that I could do nothing but sigh as I ran my hands over the broad lines of his back.

  “At first,” he said, lifting his lips off my skin for long enough to speak, “I wasn’t sure. Not being in control of myself is a feeling I’m not used to. But now I’m starting to like it.”

  His gorgeous eyes twinkled, the light from the passing city playing on the sculpted features of his face. Bryce leaned in and kissed me more, his hands moving over my stomach and breasts, my skin breaking out into goose bumps as a thrill ran up my spine.

  “But it’s only you,” he said, squeezing my breasts, my nipples turning into solid little stones. “Only you make me feel this way.”

  I didn’t know what to make of this. I loved it, but I was confused. I had no idea what I was doing to make a man like Bryce feel this way.

  “But I’m not even doing anything,” I said, my pussy getting hotter and wetter by the second.

  He let out a snort, a wry smile curving his lips.

  “You might think so,” he said, “but you’re absolutely doing something to me.”

  I let out another sigh, the grip of his hands on my sides making me feel thrilled and turned on and desperate for more. I spread my legs, the dress slipping up my thighs and exposing pale expanses of skin, along with a hint of the lacy black and white panties underneath.

  Bryce’s hand shot right to my cunt, and he began rubbing my clit with the side of his fingers.

  Goddamn, his touch was like nothing else. The soft fabric of my thong was soaked as soon as he touched me. I needed the panties off, right away. Knowing that they were the only thing keeping me from Bryce was intolerable.

  Thankfully, he was of the same mind. Bryce, his lips now moving along the curved ridge of my collarbone, took hold of my panties’ waistband and rolled them down slowly over my thighs. Soon they were dangling from my heels, and with a quick jerk of my foot, I kicked them off and onto the other side of the seat.

  Bryce pulled back and loomed over me, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of me lying below him, my hair tousled wild around my face, my cheeks flushed, my legs spread open wide for him. I could tell he was trying to figure out where to begin.

  A quick glance down at his pants revealed that he was more than ready for me—his thick, hard cock looked on the verge of ripping through the very expensive fabric. I ran my hands over my hips, beckoning him to my body.

  With another fluid motion, Bryce ducked down between my legs. Once there, his face only inches away from my cunt, I watched he drew in a slow breath through his nostrils.

  “You smell like fucking heaven,” he said, flicking his eyes up to mine for a brief moment. “And I know that’s exactly how you taste, too.”

  I slipped my hands into his thick hair, guiding him down. But he didn’t need my help. Bryce cut the distance between his face and my pussy down to nothing, and soon I could feel the plushness of his lips against my cunt. He reached up and spread me open, kissing me slowly and deliberately.

  “Ohhh fuuuck,” I let out, closing my eyes and bracing myself against the hot pleasure that boiled up from where he kissed me.

  He didn’t screw around, and he didn’t tease. Holding me open with one hand, Bryce slipped a pair of fingers inside of me, hooking them in just the right way to hit my G-spot. And as he fingered me, his tongue dragged hard against my clit, each motion forcing a soaring pulse of pleasure through my body.

  Bryce ate me expertly, the wet sound of his tongue lapping against my clit filling the air. The movement of his fingers and his tongue where synced perfectly, timed just so to make sure not a moment passed that wasn’t filled with unbearable pleasure.

  “Come for me,” he said, lifting up his mouth just long enough to speak. “I want to taste you as you come.”

  Oh man. I wasn’t used to being talked to like that, and the low, insistent purr of his voice coaxed me even closer
to the edge.

  Soon, the twin motions of his tongue and fingers proved too much for me to hold back against. The orgasm ripped through my body, causing my hips to buck from left to right as my face tightened into a hard expression of throbbing, hot pleasure.

  Bryce continued to eat me through the orgasm, his tongue flicking over my clit and fingers sliding in and out of me with liquid ease.

  “Pants off—now,” I said as the last throbs of the orgasm worked through me.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Someone’s feeling bossy,” he said.

  “Hey,” I said. “You’re the one who wants me to be in charge. Might as well get started now.”

  He chuckled as he slipped off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the seats across from us. I couldn’t wait for him to get undressed. My body shot up erect and my fingers quickly went to work on his crisp white shirt, each undone button revealing more of the impossibly sculpted physique underneath.

  Once it was undone, he slipped it off over his broad, round shoulders. I didn’t think it was possible for me to get even wetter than I already was, but the sight of Bryce’s sculpted upper body managed to do it.

  His hands were a blur over his belt buckle and zipper, and moments later his cock was out and ready for me, the thick, smooth flesh solid as steel, the end already dripping with anticipation. Bryce lunged forward again, the end of his head grazing my clit and pushing out another pulse of hot pleasure.

  I was so eager that my body felt ready to completely unravel. I reached down and took hold of his cock, my fingertips moving slowly along its length. And with my hand wrapped around it, I guided Bryce into me.

  Being split in half by Bryce Carver was as intense as experiencing a force of nature. My pussy stretched to wrap him in a tight, warm grip, and I squirmed underneath him as he pushed inch by inch into me. Once he was fully buried, I ran my fingers over the hard lines of his muscular back, feeling the slight sweat that sheened his skin and breathing in deeply his musky scent.

  Bryce held still for a moment, having his own pleasure to deal with.