Double Dare: A Fake Fiancee MMF Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “Fuuuuck,” he groaned gutturally. “I’ve never seen something so beautiful. Your ass baby, your pussy, they’re just so good.”

  And with that, he took over. Leaning over to drop a kiss on my shoulder, he whispered in my ear.

  “Are you ready little girl? Ready for the ride of your life?”

  And without waiting for an answer, he began to rock. Gently at first, slowly, aware that my flesh was new, my pussy had never been touched this deep before. It was sensational, the slow slide of his dick in and out.

  But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t anywhere near enough so wordlessly, I squeezed my internal muscles while humping my butt back again slightly, silently begging for more.

  And the big man chuckled deep in his throat, knowing exactly what I was asking for. He braced one massive hand on the mattress and grabbed a breast with the other.

  “Little girl, I’m about to fuck you good,” he rasped, twirling the nipple with big fingers.

  And true to his word, the rhythm began. Stone pulled back, then pushed in before pulling back again, making my pussy churn, my insides tremble, touching me so deep that shivers ran up my spine, my cunt dripping wildly, wet and hungry. And the sweet slide was so amazing, so incredible, that I didn’t last long. After a minute or two of his ministrations, I was done for, too new and nubile to be able to control my excitement.

  So with a scream and a long “Fuuuuuck!” I came, my pussy clamping hard on his dick inside, spasming again and again on the hot rod, my whole body clenching, my spine snapping backwards, the sensation was so fierce, so intense. “Shit!” I screamed.

  And the additional friction must have gotten to him as well because with a mighty roar, Stone unleashed in me, his balls pulling high and spurting, lash after lash of hot white shooting up my channel as his dick jerked and kicked wildly inside.

  “Ahhhhh,” he roared, those massive muscles pinning me to his hard form, my soft body clenching and unclenching, boobs shivering and shaking as we rode our release, my pussy milking him for more, more, more.

  And finally, we collapsed, our limbs tangled, covered in a slight sheen of sweat. Stone was huge and heavy, pressing me into the air mattress, so dominant, so sexy that I could hardly catch my breath. But evidently Mr. Phillips still had his sense of humor after a massive orgasm because a big hand slipped between us to nuzzle at my folds, parting that soft flesh even though his dick was still buried deep inside. With a swift pinch, he tickled my clit, making me shriek again, the sensation so dirty, tingles running through my body, my cunt welling up again with lust.

  And the big man laughed.

  “You know what I love about you baby?” he whispered against my relaxed form, that huge body pressing me into the mattress. “You have something called ‘dog.’”

  And I turned to stare at him over my shoulder. Had he really just taken my virginity, no, forced me to take my own virginity, and then called me a dog? My brows lowered and I got ready to scream.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Stone

  I loved everything about the brunette. At the mention of the word ‘dog,’ she was immediately on high alert despite the fact that she was nude in my arms, my cock seated deep inside that tiny pussy. Oh yeah, Evie was tight, unbelievably small and I planned on working myself into her again … and again … and again.

  But in the meantime, I wanted to tease, get a rise out of the beautiful brunette. And it seemed my comment had worked.

  “What the fuck is ‘dog?’” Evie demanded indignantly, boobs quivering while propping herself up on her elbows to glare at me over her shoulder. I loved it, the brunette was so sassy, so fine. I was literally draped all over her, my cock buried in her snatch, and yet she didn’t hesitate to give me lip.

  “Baby, I didn’t say you were a dog or a female bitch in heat, nothing like that,” I murmured, reaching one hand around to tweak a nipple. “I just said you have something that I call ‘dog.’”

  But the little girl wasn’t dumb. Shaking my hand free, she fixed me with big brown eyes, staring hard.

  “What the fuck is ‘dog’?” she demanded again, this time with a huffy look on her face. “Seriously, you don’t just sleep with a woman and then say the word ‘dog’ in the next sentence.”

  And I gave in. I loved her sassiness, her know-it-all ways and the girl was so intelligent too. Evie knew the difference between ‘dog’ as a noun and ‘dog’ as an adjective.

  “All I’m saying is that I love your pussy, baby,” I reassured, pulling her tighter onto my cock, holding her close. “Dog’s this thing where when I pull out of your pussy, I can see the ring of your lips pulling as well, sticking to my cock like they don’t want it to go. It’s a circle of pink, what I call ‘dog,’” I said mischievously.

  “Well you better find another name,” she said, pulling a face, those little lips pursing. What would they feel like around my dick again? Oh god. But Evie wasn’t distracted. “Because you’re never calling me a female dog, ever,” she finished.

  And I laughed again, this time pulling out slowly, making the girl moan and wince a bit as my big dick departed those sensuous depths. Fuck but it looked good, watching as inch after inch of dripping cock exited from that sweet, steaming snatch. And what do you know, but ‘dog’ was happening right now, those puffy vaginal lips clinging to my dick as if begging it not to go.

  But I wanted to taste the girl’s tits again, so I flipped her over and bent forward to nuzzle my face between her huge boobs, the orbs bouncing off my cheeks.

  “Okay,” I said, my voice muffled as if from far away, “I’ll change it, I won’t call it ‘dog’ anymore, I promise … for you.”

  And I was happy to, actually. Despite the fact that we’d literally just fucked on an air mattress inside a darkened classroom, I found that I wanted to please Evie, to make her happy. I’d put out the flowers, the candles, even in this sorry environment because the girl’s happiness was important to me.

  And suddenly ashamed, I looked up at the brunette.

  “Evie,” I said quietly. “This was amazing, I’ll never forget it.”

  She smiled wryly at me.

  “Which part?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. “The grape? The kumquat? Or where you just compared me to a dog?”

  But I was serious this time.

  “No,” I said, taking her chin between my hands. “I want you to feel like a princess, I want you to know this was really special.” And I took a deep breath then. “Come over,” I said persuasively, my voice a low growl. “Come to my place tomorrow night and I’ll make it up to you. None of this air mattress shit,” I gestured to our makeshift bed.

  The girl was silent for a moment, gazing at me speculatively before her face went soft.

  “But Stone, we’re supposed to be studying,” she said with a small laugh. “And we haven’t even cracked a book yet.”

  I shook my head determinedly.

  “We’ll study afterwards, I swear. You’ve never had such a good tutor, it’ll be amazing, just come to my place,” I pressed. Suddenly I realized how desperate I was, how much I wanted to see Evie alone again, this time on a normal date instead of this illicit rendezvous.

  But the brunette was nobody’s fool. She shook her head resolutely.

  “Mr. Phillips, you’ll lose your job if they catch you with a student,” she said firmly. “I mean, this is definitely grounds for getting fired, haven’t you heard of Mary Kay Letourneau?”

  And I snorted immediately. This was nothing like the sordid story of Letourneau, I wasn’t a pedophile. Or was I?

  “You’re eighteen, aren’t you?” I demanded suddenly, my breath catching in my throat. Oh shit. What if she wasn’t? I had no idea what I was going to do, what would happen next. I was already addicted to her body, that sweet pussy, I didn’t have the self-control to walk away just like that.

  And the brunette smiled sweetly, sensing my alarm.

  “What if I wasn’t?” she teased. “What if I said, ‘Oh Mr. Phillips, I’
ll be eighteen next year?’”

  And I groaned, dread rolling in waves through my stomach. Fuck, the thought of a year waiting for this beauty would kill me, my dick would literally shrivel up and die in my pants, I’d become a walking zombie.

  “Baby girl, there’s nothing that’s gonna keep me away from you except this,” I said roughly, taking her by the shoulders and looking deep into her eyes to show how serious I was. “You’ve got to be legal. Tell me you are.”

  And sensing the depths of my alarm, how this really got under my skin, the brunette took pity and laughed throatily.

  “Oh Stone, I’m already eighteen,” she murmured, shooting me a knowing smile. “Turned eighteen last month.”

  And I collapsed onto the mattress again, an arm shielding my eyes, my big body going limp. The relief was palpable, my tense muscles finally relaxing.

  “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?” I groaned. “I’m gonna be a dead man because of you.”

  “Oh, poor baby,” the brunette pouted. “And just when I was going to go over to your place for dinner. Because the invitation was for dinner, wasn’t it Stone?”

  And I sat up then suddenly, grabbing her onto my lap for a sweet kiss before staring deeply into her eyes.

  “You bet it is,” I murmured, my arms tightening possessively. “Girlie, you got yourself a dinner date.”

  And Evie giggled in my lap, boobs bouncing, that round ass jouncing against my hard thighs. And whaddya know but I couldn’t wait to take her again, couldn’t wait to show this amazing woman a special time.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Evie

  I walked into the lobby of a nondescript building on the Upper West Side. The big grey block was mere blocks from Spencer Prep, within walking distance actually. I strode in, surprised to see a doorman waiting just inside the foyer, natty in a blue and red uniform. My brows scrunching, I frowned. That was weird, I didn’t know teachers could afford doorman buildings in NYC.

  Nonetheless, I nodded at the old man, friendly and unassuming.

  “Hi,” I said, “I’m Evie, here to see Stone Phillips.”

  He automatically turned to a phone on the wall, picking up the receiver with a gloved hand.

  “Mr. Phillips, an Evie in the lobby,” he spoke into the phone before listening intently.

  That sounded off. “An Evie in the lobby?” Were there Amandas, Claires, Maggies and Joannes waiting in the lobby as well? But I brushed it off. The old dude was probably just cranky and tired from working all day, it was nothing.

  “Go right up,” he said, his wrinkled face inscrutable and I nodded, walking to the gleaming metal doors. The lift itself was nothing, a little worn around the edges, a bit of dirt caked in the corners.

  But when I arrived on the eighth floor, I gaped a little. Because the hallway to Stone’s apartment was really nicely done with gleaming parquet floors and a chandelier, facets of light sparkling everywhere. A little fancy for an anonymous building on the Upper West, especially someone on a teacher’s budget. Spencer Prep is a ritzy private school but I didn’t think they paid that well.

  Plus, there were no other doors on the floor, Stone’s front door was the only one. How weird, where did his neighbors live? Or did they have hidden entrances? Shrugging, I shot one last look around, too excited to much pay attention.

  And when Mr. Phillips answered the door, his dark hair ruffled, blue eyes gleaming, I almost melted because he was so cute. Like gorgeous, hot, sexy cute. The big man wore an apron over a grey t-shirt that hugged his chest and jeans that emphasized the length of his legs, his muscular thighs. My internal temp immediately zoomed up ten degrees, my cunt growing moist, knees feeling a little weak. But I made myself stay calm and smiled brightly.

  “Nice apron,” I complimented sassily, looking him up and down.

  And the big man just dragged me in, shutting the door before leaning down for a deep kiss.

  I was breathless by the time he backed off, his strong arms cradling me, making me go weak inside.

  “I know, right?” Stone said, lifting an eyebrow. His nostrils flared slightly, chest heaving a bit, and I realized he was just as affected. “You’d love to see me in nothing but this apron, wouldn’t you?” he joked.

  And I had to laugh then because the apron was the silliest thing, although yeah, I was dying to see him naked already. Because the garment was straight out of the fifties, a black and white gingham print with a giant lobster on it that said, “Fill ‘er up!”

  “What does that mean, even?” I asked, giggling again. “Why would a lobster say fill ‘er up?”

  The big man just shrugged, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Who knows?” he said gamely. “My mom gave it to me, it’s her idea of humor.”

  “Oh your mom likes kitschy stuff?” I asked curiously. “Like random knick-knacks and cheesy souvenirs?”

  And the big man’s face darkened for a moment before the cloud passed. I blinked, unsure if it’d been my imagination.

  “My mom likes a lot of things,” he said lightly, “and this apron caught her fancy, who knows what she was thinking? She’s eighty already, probably has a couple loose screws,” he said with a wink.

  I wanted to ask more, to ask about his family, what they were like, what they did when they were together, but Stone was already striding towards the kitchen, pulling me along behind him, his big hand warm on mine.

  “Come on, you can help me cook,” he said. “I’m just putting the finishing touches on this roast chicken.”

  And I gasped when I stepped into the brightly lit space because it was done up like a chef’s kitchen, no expense had been spared. Beautiful blue and white tiles lined the walls, there was a huge sub-zero fridge, as well as two counter islands which could have seated seven or eight each.

  “You like to cook, I see,” I said softly, awed by the luxury, my eyes wide as I gazed around.

  And the big man took my in his arms, bending to give me another kiss before swatting me on the ass and handing me a bunch of carrots.

  “I love cooking,” he confirmed. “Now wash these babies, I’m going to toss them in the oven before they go in your little mouth,” he winked.

  And obediently, I began scrubbing the carrots in the farmhouse sink, the giant silver square almost as big as a tub.

  “Mmm, that smells good,” I moaned as Stone pulled a roast chicken out of the oven. The skin was crackling brown, juices pooling in the tray and as he set it on the counter, a heavenly aroma of savory spice enveloped me, my mouth watering.

  “Get back to your washing,” he commanded with a quirk of a smile, “the chicken’s gotta cool before it can be served, so focus on the carrots.”

  And I smiled back before turning to the veggies once more. Because I love a man who can cook and Stone had just pulled a rabbit out of a hat, I would never have guessed that he was a master chef.

  But the big man wasn’t done with the surprises yet. With a special knife, he flicked off the tops of the carrots and then julienned them, throwing them into a glass pan before seasoning them with all sorts of spices.

  “We need a little Himalayan sea salt, a little cracked pepper, and hmmm, maybe some thyme,” he murmured as his deft fingers sprinkled ingredients over the orange tips. And I watched, amazed as the everyday vegetables went from plain jane to amazing, something that complemented the roast chicken perfectly, providing balance, flavor and depth to the meal.

  And after it was all ready, I dug in greedily. I was so hungry that I hardly noticed the steps Stone had taken, lighting candles, putting out fancy linens, real silverware and fine wine. It was so good that I moaned with my first bite of chicken, eyes closed while chewing, pure heaven in my mouth.

  “Ohhh mmmm,” I hummed. “This is amazing.”

  Stone just growled across the table from me.

  “And baby, I want you to eat,” he commanded. “You’re too thin.

  Too thin? I was a size twelve on a good day, my curves sassy and spreading wi
th each month. If I wasn’t careful I’d be a fourteen or sixteen soon.

  But Stone read my mind.

  “Yeah you’re too thin,” he growled. “You’d look even better if you put on twenty pounds, put some real flesh on you.”

  I gasped.

  “Twenty pounds!” I giggled. “I’ll be sticking out to there if I do,” I said, holding my hand in front of my girls about another foot.

  And Stone’s eyes just turned hungry.

  “So what if you do?” he asked. “The more of you to love, to taste, to fuck.”

  And I gasped.

  “Dirty language at the table, Professor?” I cooed coyly.

  “With you, baby girl, always,” he rumbled, eyes hungry, big body already rock solid.

  But the meal didn’t devolve into innuendos. If anything, Stone and I had amazing conversation, we were a really great match with similar interests and ideas.

  “Where’d you get this?” I asked, taking the wine bottle in hand, gazing at the label questioningly. It was something really fancy with a name I couldn’t pronounce, Chateau D’Yquem. How do you say that? DEE-keem? De-KEM? It was expensive for sure, the label in elegant script with an etching of a crown.

  Stone paused a moment.

  “France,” was all he said.

  “Oh you were in France?” I asked. “I’m hoping to go sometime, maybe in the next couple years. It’ll be so fun, I love pastries and I hear every other shop in Le Marais is a bakery,” I licked my lips slightly.

  Stone was silent for a moment, watching the flicker of my tongue, mesmerized before replying.

  “You’ve never been?” he asked casually, leaning back in his chair, that big form relaxed, sated from the food.

  “Nope, never,” I replied, patting my lips delicately. “It’s expensive. Plane tickets out to Europe are now six hundred minimum and I have to save for college and all that. But,” I said with a shy smile, “I’ve wanted to go to Paris so bad since I was a little girl, you know meet my Prince Charming on top of the Eiffel Tower.”