Double Dare: A Fake Fiancee MMF Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Nick

  What the fuck had just happened? Just yesterday Tammy had been willing and compliant, bending over my desk naked, flirting with me over her shoulder as she fucked herself with a dildo. Because she was wicked like that, the little virgin had completely broken through every last barrier, every last shred of modesty, showing herself to me, baring her cunt, letting me taste it, trash it, pound her into the wall, the bed, if that’s what I wanted.

  And I wanted it a lot. We’d been going at it day in, day out, and most nights too. I’d looked forward to her visit last night but when she didn’t show, I didn’t call either. I figured the little girl was tired, I’d pounded her for hours the night before and she needed a bit of rest, needed to let that curvy body relax and recuperate before our next hot session.

  But when I walked into my office not twelve hours later, the woman flew at me like a banshee, accusing me of all sorts of shit. Now I admit, I’m no angel. I’ve banged a lot of women, I’m familiar with females and don’t hesitate to take the prettiest of the bunch, avail myself of a big heap of tasty twat and ass. But I hadn’t been with anyone since Tammy, in fact I hadn’t even thought of anyone since the brunette came into my life.

  Because Tammy was astonishingly receptive, curvaceous, curious and intelligent. She was everything I needed. Everything, and I had the ring in my pocket to make it permanent. Oh yeah, it was a whopper, seven carats bought with seven figures, and I wanted to look into her eyes as I slid it onto her finger on bended knee, kiss her as a smile lit up her face.

  Except the opposite had happened. Instead, the brunette had launched herself at me like a crazed hyena, screaming, crying, accusing me of all sorts of shit. And yeah, there was the underwear on the floor but I swear, I have no idea where it came from. Honestly, I thought it was hers, she was the only one I’d touched recently, the only woman whose panties I’d want to smell, wrap around my pole, spurt my jizz into. So I’d genuinely thought they belonged to my beautiful girl.

  But as I picked them up from the floor of my office, everything became clear. Instead of the clean, musky scent of Tammy’s pussy, a cloying island tropical odor emanated from the lace, making me choke and cough, it was so disgustingly sugary.

  “Jeanette!” I roared, anger mottling my face, my big frame tense with repressed rage.

  And when the blonde waltzed in, I didn’t hold back.

  “Get out and take your shit with you,” I raged, throwing the underwear at her. It landed on her head, perched crazily on her updo, making her look like an inmate from an insane asylum.

  “You can’t fire me,” she smiled lazily. “I still have my insurance, remember? The lace bodystocking with your saliva on it.”

  But I’d had enough.

  “Try it, bitch,” I growled, my hands opening and closing into fists at my side, I wanted to throttle her so badly. “Try it.”

  “Are you threatening me?” she replied, mock scared, her face a caricature of fear. “Oh, the big man is threatening me, this is grounds for a lawsuit too.”

  And I didn’t even say anything. Instead, I physically picked her up and dumped her outside my office, not caring who saw, leaving the blonde in a jumble on the floor, slamming my door in her face. I could hear her still even through the thick wood, chanting “Lawsuit, lawsuit, sexual harassment!”

  But it was time to stick to my guns. Because I’d spent the last year gathering evidence of her conniving ways, my lawyers talking with past victims, slowly building a case painting Jeanette as the amoral, scheming slut she was. And finally we were done, we had enough to make it open and shut, no way no how was any jury going to believe that blonde bitch.

  So still shaking with rage, I got on the phone.

  “Harris?” I growled. “Sue the bitch.”

  Because we weren’t fucking around. No way were we going to sit on our asses trembling with fear as Jeanette took the reins. Instead, we were striking pre-emptively and lodging our own complaint first. That’s right, Nick Martin and Luxor Corp. were suing Jeanette Crawford for blackmail, extortion, as well as a host of other shit. My attorney was walking to the courthouse even now, the papers in his briefcase. Shock and awe tactics is what I call it, strike first and scare them so bad that they become rabbits, scurrying back into their tunnel, begging for mercy. Because who do you think’s going to win? Nick Martin and Luxor, with billions at our fingertips and an iron-clad case, that’s who.

  So I smiled grimly, my work done for the moment.

  Except that still left the question of my best girl and the ring burning a hole in my pocket. I hurt, I really did from the false accusations. Tammy hadn’t given me a chance to explain anything, to clear things up, to even talk. So slowly, I got out the diamond and put it on my desk. I needed to think about things more, process the incredible events of the day before I went after my little girl … for keeps.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Tammy

  I huddled in the cold of my apartment. Despite the fact that it was only fall in New York, the Bronx apartment had no heating or hot water and I wasn’t surprised that the hovel was freezing inside.

  Because I’ve come back to my roots. After fleeing Luxor, I caught a cab to my old building, pleading with the manager to rent me my old apartment.

  “Please Luther,” I begged. “I know you haven’t found a new person yet and I really need a place to stay.”

  “I dunno,” he hedged, his wifebeater dirty and stained, gripping a protruding stomach. “You broke the lease last time and we were out a pretty penny.”

  I gasped, knowing that wasn’t true.

  “Luther,” I said firmly, “I know Luxor Corp. paid a fine on my behalf and the building was more than compensated for the broken lease. Now please!” I begged again.

  And Luther relented, but not before jacking up my previous rent by a thousand dollars, with two months prepaid in cash. So I’d practically emptied my bank account and forked over the money, only to drag myself up the rickety stairs and sit silently on the bare floor of my old apartment, huddled against the cold.

  With stiff fingers, I dialed my only friend.

  “Pink Cherry,” she chirped. “This is Marie, how can I help you?”

  “Marie,” I sobbed, “I’ve completely fucked up.”

  And some rustling sounded over the line, some fumbling before Marie’s voice came back on.

  “Oh my god, are you okay?” she asked, “Sorry, I had to go into the back office, it’s fucking dark in here, who left this shit here?”

  I heard something clatter to the floor and smiled through my tears. Trust Marie to come through for me even though I hadn’t talked to her in ages.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t reached out,” I said weakly. “It’s just everything changed so much so fast and I got lost in the whirlwind.

  “No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” reassured Marie. “Besides I’ve been busy with law school and working at the Pink simultaneously. You still going to school too?”

  And I paused for a moment, ashamed.

  “I dropped out,” I said in a tiny voice, feeling about two inches tall. “I got so caught up with Nick and Luxor and my new life that I let it slide.”

  A slow, contemplative silence for a moment before Marie spoke again.

  “Oh honey,” she said. “I’m so sorry to hear that. You know that you still have to lead your own life, you can’t pin everything on a man, it’s just a recipe for disaster. Did you stop going to classes altogether?”

  And I choked a little.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I didn’t mean to at first!” I protested. “I wanted to keep working during the day and go to classes at night but you know my boss moved me into his building and I was going over to his place late at night,” I said, ashamed.

  Marie just clucked again.

  “Trust me honey, I can guess. A guy comes along and sweeps you off your feet, puts you up in a swanky place, it feels like it’s going to last forever right? But t
he thing is that Cinderella’s coach always turns back into a pumpkin, it’s just a question of when.”

  And the bitterness in my throat was so sour that I almost choked, unable to say anything. But Marie stepped in again.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said kindly. “You can always pick yourself up, you’re not dead. Where are you now?”

  “At my old place,” I whispered, still huddled on the floor of the bare apartment.

  “That dump?” she said, her voice wry. “That place that has the mice and cockroaches?”

  I surveyed the floor in front of me. Thank god, nothing was skittering around at the moment, just a loose cupboard door dangling sadly, waving slightly in the cold air.

  “No, no rodents or insects right now,” I said dully, the energy seeping out of me once more.

  And I could almost hear the blonde shaking her head in pity.

  “Honey, why don’t you come down to the Pink Cherry and we’ll chat?” she said. “It’s cozy here, we have comfy sofas, and I just got a new stash of some awesome Ceylon tea. We’ll have a cup and you’ll feel better,” she said persuasively.

  I checked my metro ticket. Yep, just enough for two rides, one down and one back. I felt exhausted, and sipping some tea with a friend while letting my weary bones relax would be just the thing.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly. “I’ll be there in about forty-five, leaving now.”

  And scrambling to my feet, I hugged myself in the cold of the apartment. Another chilly stream of air seeped in through the window and I shivered all the way down to my bones, my hands ice cold, my body shaking with uncontrollable tremors. The thing is, I didn’t know if the tremors were from the freeze … or from missing Nick, my life, my love.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Tammy

  The chimes rang softly as I let myself into the Pink Cherry. It’d been so long since I’d been to the shop but it was just as I remembered. The space was brightly lit with cheery signs that read, “His Stuff,” “Her Stuff,” and “Extreme Restraints,” among other helpful tidbits. Yep, everything was just as I remembered.

  I caught a glimpse of Marie helping a customer and waved discreetly to her before making my way to the counter, sitting perched on a stool. My friend came bustling over soon, giving me a big hug.

  “Oof, must be cold outside,” she said with a smile. “You feel like a popsicle.”

  I gave her a wan smile back.

  “Yeah, it’s freezing, I didn’t have time to get my winter jacket.”

  The truth was my winter jacket was still at The Meridien, waiting to be shipped to my new digs. Cringing, my heart crumpled slightly again, the coat a reminder of what had once been.

  “So get me up to speed,” chattered my blonde friend, pouring two steaming cups of tea. “What’s new?”

  Taking a grateful sip, I began slowly.

  “Well, you know that my boss, Nick Martin, moved me into his apartment building,” I said.

  Marie snorted.

  “He should! The way he was banging you at work, he owed you big time.”

  I just shook my head slowly.

  “It’s not whether Nick should or shouldn’t have, it’s just that I thought I was the only one,” I explained in a quiet voice. “I thought I was special to him when actually I was just one girl among many.”

  And Marie gasped.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “He was banging other chicks?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  I nodded slowly, my cheeks flushing.

  “Nick Martin is a manwhore,” I said bitterly. “He plays with women, gets them to love him, but he’s actually playing a couple violins at once. Get it? He’s strumming several instruments simultaneously, making us all think we’re the only ones, that we’re special.”

  Marie was silent again.

  “What, did they all live on the same floor as you guys?” she asked. “Was the Meridien like some kind of whore hotel?”

  And I paused, thinking.

  “No, only Nick and I had apartments on that floor, but then again, there are only two apartments per floor. The other women probably lived nearby,” I said, my face crumpling.

  Marie sipped her tea slowly, thoughtful.

  “Okay, that could be true,” she granted. “But did you ever see any other women?” she pressed.

  “No,” I admitted, “but I have other proof.”

  And that’s when I launched into a monologue, my throat clutching as I recounted last night’s events.

  “I went by his apartment a little early yesterday evening and heard all these moans and shudders, all these “Oh Nicks!”” I choked, feeling nauseated again. “And then this bitch Jeanette came waltzing out, her hair all messed-up and her clothes on wrong. I know he was fucking her,” I said frozenly, reeling with hurt.

  But Marie didn’t let up so easily.

  “Did you ask him about it?” she inserted gently. “What did Nick say?”

  “I confronted him but he didn’t say anything,” I replied dully, my eyes listless. “He didn’t defend himself, didn’t say a word,” I repeated again.

  Marie paused, looking puzzled before speaking.

  “That’s weird. Mr. Martin didn’t defend himself? Usually guys like this are manipulators, they’ll gaslight you, make you think that everything you saw was a mirage, make you question yourself. He didn’t do any of that?” she asked quizzically while taking another sip of tea.

  I shook my head miserably.

  “Everything just happened so fast, you know, I tore into his office ready to confront him and then I … I … I found panties in his suit jacket pocket,” I choked, tears welling up again. This was the humiliating part, that I’d been so trusting, so naïve. I’d been a fucking dunce and Nick had worked me for what it was worth.

  Marie patted me comfortingly on the shoulder, leaning over to hand me a Kleenex. Gratefully, I took it and blew into the paper with a huge honk.

  “I take it they were another woman’s panties, right?” my friend said gently. “They weren’t yours?”

  “They definitely weren’t mine,” I said vehemently. “These were so disgusting, they were crusted and gross, and it was obvious she’d creamed into them.”

  Marie leaned back and giggled slightly, trying to look serious even as she held a hand over her mouth

  “I know it’s TMI,” I said huffily, sitting up straighter, “but seriously, there was all this crusted gunk, it was flaking off like dandruff or some shit, totally ratched.”

  And Marie lost her battle then, bursting out into full-fledged laughter, gale force gasps that made the few customers in the store turn to stare our way. I was so mad and humiliated at once that I glared at her, my eyes volcanic.

  “I’m glad you still have a sense of humor,” I said frigidly, “when my life has been ruined.”

  And the blonde heaved and gasped, trying to sit up straight on her small stool but failing, bent double from deep belly laughs.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry, I know you’re in pain,” she apologized through wheezing chuckles, “It’s just … you’re a really funny girl, you know that?”

  I wouldn’t even grace that with a reply, instead shooting her another frigid glare. How could she think this was funny? Hello, I was suffering in the ninth circle of Hell.

  “Okay, okay,” replied my friend, holding her hand up in an appeasing gesture, schooling her expression into a reasonable semblance of seriousness. “I got it now, I’m under control,” she said, just a quirk of her mouth giving her away. “So you found the panties and what did Nick say then?”

  And I wailed again.

  “He didn’t say anything! He just stood there and took it!”

  But Marie leaned back and shook her head.

  “Not one thing? He didn’t say one thing to defend himself?” she asked, eyebrow raised somewhat skeptically.

  “No, nothing at all!” I wailed. “Nothing at alllllll!” my voice rose about an octave higher, causing customers to look over at us
again. Shit, I was going to get Marie fired if we kept carrying on this way.

  But the blonde was unperturbed and took another sip of tea.

  “Something’s off here,” she said musingly, her eyes contemplative as she looked off into the distance. “Something tells me that the situation’s seriously off. Guys who see multiple women usually have excuses, they try to justify it somehow. ‘Humans aren’t meant to be monogamous,’ ‘Neanderthals had multiple partners,’ heck, even ‘Mohammed had four wives’ and shit like that. Mr. Martin didn’t say anything of the kind?” she asked, eyebrow arched.

  I shook my head miserably.

  “Nope, nothing,” I replied in a small voice.

  Marie was silent again.

  “Hold on, let’s back up for a sec and tell me again exactly what happened when you confronted him,” she encouraged.

  I took a deep breath, the events so painful, the wound throbbing excruciatingly.

  “I was in Nick’s office but he wasn’t there yet,” I recounted, frozen. “I wandered around and saw that his jacket pocket was bulging a little and reached in. Voila! Out tumbled the panties,” I shuddered again at the memory. “Nick came back and I launched myself at him, screaming epithets, I was furious.” God, the memory made me want to bury myself alive, it was literally the lowest point in my life.

  “And then what happened?” my friend asked, her eyes encouraging.

  “And then nothing!” I finished emphatically. “Mr. Martin said nothing and I ran out of there.”

  Silence from my friend again as she looked into her teacup.

  “Well,” she mused. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but …”

  “But what?” I pressed, my voice sharp. “What?” Anything would help, I was dying for scraps.