Boardroom Bride: A Fake Fiance Secret Pregnancy Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Besides my outfit, what’s really concerning right now, however, is why I give a fuck what I’m wearing when Tanner gets here. It’s baffling. I look good in all my clothes—and especially out of them, as Tanner can attest.

  I’ve never stressed myself this much on what to wear on a first date, much less a casual non-date like this. And Tanner bringing over Chinese food is the definition of casual. I built my company from scratch into a multibillion-dollar empire.

  Granted, the empire’s a little shaky right now, but that doesn’t negate the years of hard work, the employees under me, or the balls I had to bust during the construction years.

  I check my phone to see where the DLA stocks closed and happen to notice that my doorman hasn’t yet called to let me know that Tanner is waiting in the lobby for me to waive him up.

  I haven’t been obsessively checking my phone for a Tanner alert every five minutes. Not at all. I’m a confident woman who needs no man.

  The doorbell’s ring shakes me out of my little tour of sudden insecurities—which is a blessing because Elsa Fucking Blakely doesn’t get nervous over a man.

  A quick stop at my hallway mirror shows me that I have no reason to be nervous. From my understated, yet flawless make-up, to my on-point blonde beachy waves, I look damn hot.

  I’m still opening the door when Tanner pushes his way in, bringing the smell of General Tso’s Chicken with him. He looks damn fine tonight, as always.

  He looks effortlessly casual in jeans and a tight t-shirt. Tight enough that you can see his chest muscles but not too tight to make him look like Eurotrash.

  We might be sporting the same jeans and t-shirt combo, but my woman’s intuition tells me that he just grabbed the first two things out of his closet. He didn’t spend twenty minutes picking out his outfit. Damn men.

  His hair looks a little disheveled. And as he runs his hand through his hair, I realize he’s been doing that for a while tonight, over and over. He only does that when he’s contemplating a big decision.

  “How did you get up here?” I ask, taking some of the take-out containers out of the bag and spreading them out on my table.

  “The usual way—by elevator,” Tanner says as he walks straight to my fridge, grabs a beer, and takes a long gulp. “Your doorman said I was on the list, so he let me come up.”

  “Hmm,” I say with a mouth full of chicken. “I don’t remember doing that.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Tanner says sharply while opening his second beer. “Apparently you did, because here I am.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No,” Tanner says with a sigh and sits at the dining room table beside me.

  “Then, stop taking it out on me and tell me what has put you in a bad mood.”

  “I’m still trying to process it myself.”

  “Process what?” I ask. “The more vague you are, the more nervous I get.”

  “It’s my board. What they want me to do...want us to do...”

  “Just tell me already.”

  Fuck, I’ve never seen Tanner this hesitant before.

  This is a guy who commands any and every room he enters. He doesn’t get nervous or intimidated. He’s the one who intimidates other people—who makes others quake in their shoes.

  “They want us to...”

  “To what?” I feel like shaking him at this point to get him to spill it already, whatever ‘it’ is.

  “Make a sex tape and leak it.”

  Not what I was expecting to hear. It’s a little unnerving that a roomful of old white guys came up with an idea as creepy as that.

  “But it’ll never happen,” Tanner says. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Why?”

  “They seem to think it’ll get the last of the media to buy into our romance.”

  “Every article I’ve read lately practically fawns all over us as the new it couple,” I say, grabbing a piece of broccoli with my chopsticks. “Except for Lis.”

  “That’s who,” Tanner says. “They think that this is the only way to convince her that this is real.”

  “Well...” I think back to my interview with Lis and how I couldn’t help watching her walk out of the room.

  I squirm a little in my chair, unsure if the sudden wetness I feel in my pussy is a reaction to the thought of Lis Langley or of making a sex tape with Tanner.

  “I mean, what were they thinking? Putting ourselves—putting you—on display like that? That’s crossing the line.”

  “It’s not the worst idea.”

  “I’m this close to just scraping the...whole...thing,” Tanner says. “Did you just say that it wouldn’t be the worst idea?”

  I love the confused look on his face. He truly doesn’t know how to respond right now. So I just sit back and revel in his discomfort.

  He leans forward in his chair, inches from my face.

  “You do realize what that means, right? You and I. On tape. For all the world to see.”

  I nod and lean forward to meet his lips. His confusion makes him pause for a second, but then there’s that glorious moment when his mouth opens for mine, and our tongues start doing a seductive dance.

  When I break the kiss after several wonderful moments, I say, “Why the hell not?”

  “Why? Oh, I can think of a few reasons,” Tanner says. “Starting with the ones I’ve already laid out.”

  “No, seriously. Let’s do it.” I walk over to the bar and grab a bottle of tequila and two glasses. “We’ve got alcohol, I’ve got a camera, we like fucking each other. So, why the fuck not?”

  Tanner looks frozen. For all I know, his mind is racing a mile a minute, but from my vantage point, he looks like a statue in a museum.

  The longer he says nothing, the more exposed I feel. I just proposed a pretty bold suggestion after all.

  But instead of speaking, Tanner Sharpe, my long-ago boyfriend, one-time business rival, and current fake lover, walks over to me and takes my face in his hands.

  Just before we kiss—what is probably the most panty-soaking kiss I’ve ever experienced—he says, “Let’s fucking do this.”

  Chapter 20

  Tanner

  I pour the clear liquid into our shot glasses and sprinkle the salt on our hands. We clink them together and steady ourselves for the potent liquid.

  So far, tequila is the most effective method we have to prepare for our porn debut.

  And, as a bonus, any residual anger or annoyance from earlier has been successfully washed down and adequately numbed.

  It’s making me feel better about this decision. And I can tell it’s having the same effect on Elsa.

  She twists her hair into a faux ponytail and exposes her neck. Her cheeks are red, and her body glistens from a thin sheet of perspiration sprinkling her body.

  She’s getting hot, either from the warmth of the liquid or the anticipation of what’s to come. I hope it’s more of the latter.

  My eyes feast on the sight of her.

  I’m definitely getting used to this combination—tequila and Elsa—it’s fucking lethal.

  “Cheers to the world seeing our asses.” I wink.

  She laughs nervously, though her body is much more relaxed.

  We’ll have to get her out of that pretty head of hers.

  “Thank god I waxed.” She giggles, the warmth from the tequila tickling her.

  My eyebrows shoot up. I guess that’s a good point.

  “Hey! You don’t know what that camera can see. Or what they’ll zoom in on.” She winks.

  “Angel, you have nothing to worry about.” My eyes linger over her body. “And I know I don’t either.”

  She finishes licking the salt on her hand and stares back at me.

  I glare right back at her, helping her remember. She knows exactly what I’m referring to.

  Fuck. Her eyes light up, and she looks like she’s about to pounce.

  She’s a fucking lioness in heat.

  And I’m he
r willing prey.

  Though this lion might have a hard time not taking her under me and dominating her like the crazed animal I am.

  She’s already set up the camera, making sure it’s angled right to show off our best assets—but like I said we have nothing to worry about. She’s also triple-checked the lighting.

  She always has to be so damn professional.

  The lace of her stockings I saw earlier peeks out from under her silk robe.

  My cock’s been hard since she green-lighted our X-rated film, but it’s a fucking rod watching the material glide against her.

  Fuck, yes—I’ll finally be able to finish what I started.

  In all honesty, I’m still fucking surprised she said yes.

  Never in a million years would I have thought that Elsa would say yes to a sex tape.

  The woman never ceases to surprise me. That’s one thing I find so damn attractive about her. It’s how she captivates me.

  And this is what I’ve been waiting for—wanting—since the moment she left me.

  No, I’ve needed this.

  Albeit, I imagined under different circumstances, but beggars can’t be choosers.

  Like I’ve said before, I knew how to get a fix or find a woman to sedate my need for Elsa, but never to extinguish it.

  It had to be her.

  Only her.

  And now, I have her.

  It’s going to be an endurance test to keep from showing her how much I’ve missed that tight cunt and body of hers under me.

  Or really, how much I’ve missed her.

  But I can’t let my desire take over—it could fuck this whole thing up.

  Staring at me greedily, she unties her robe. It falls open and gives me a perfect view of the blush lace lingerie.

  Jesus.

  “Have you ever done a body shot before?” She leans back on her hands and scoots her ass to the edge of the bed, her legs open and inviting.

  Her body is on full display and, like an audience at a fashion show, I’m gawking, awe-struck.

  “Once or twice.” I wet my lips, imagining licking the sweet agave off her body.

  She stands up and grabs the tequila and salt.

  Standing in front of me, she widens her stance, and looks down at me like the fucking alpha she is.

  “Take your shirt off and lay back.”

  I look up at her, my eyes in view of her see-thru panties, and I immediately comply.

  This is going to be agonizingly hard to get through.

  But I’m giddy as a fucking dog whose owner’s dangling a treat above him.

  And it’s one damn delicious treat.

  I peel my shirt over my head and lay back on the couch.

  “That’s better.” She smiles sensually and pushes my legs apart with hers.

  Placing a hand on my hip to steady herself, she bends over and pours the tequila in my navel.

  She licks a path up my chest, shaking salt on its wetness, and then places a lime in my mouth.

  My skin is on fucking fire, and my cock strains against my pants. It’s almost becoming painful. I look down at her and watch her body sway rhythmically above mine.

  She straddles me and slowly takes off her robe, never losing eye contact.

  Biting her lip, she undoes my belt and pants.

  “Don’t spill my tequila.” She winks and tugs them off.

  A tiny bit of liquid spills down my stomach, and she looks at me, disappointment and humor filling her expression.

  “Oh no, you spilled.” She grins wickedly.

  She crawls back on me and straddles me again.

  She grinds down on me, and the friction builds between the lace and cotton, lighting it on fire.

  Fucking hell.

  A growl escapes me, and I bite down on the lime, the juices running down my cheek.

  “Tanner, you don’t know how to listen, do you?”

  “I hate listening to you,” I mumble out, trying to keep the lime in my mouth.

  I run my hands up her thighs, needing to feel her.

  She bends down and sucks the liquid out of my navel, licks the line of salt and meets my lips; but only winds up hovering over them.

  Putting the lime between her teeth, she squeezes the juices and spits it out to the floor, licking her lips afterwards.

  I try to kiss her, wanting to fucking claim that devious mouth of hers, but she stops me.

  She holds a finger to my lips and grabs my jaw, turning my head to the side.

  “I have to get every drop,” she whispers in my ear and bites my earlobe.

  “God, you’re fucking infuriating,” I say, seething.

  She chuckles triumphantly and licks the lime juice off my cheek, tracing my jaw and finding her way to my mouth.

  I can feel the heat from her cunt on my cock, and it’s driving me wild.

  And her tongue playing with me has every nerve in my body raging.

  This fucking show of hers is too damn much, and I don’t know how much longer I can last.

  She puts her hands on either side of my face, and her tits dangle above me.

  That’s it.

  I push down on her back, bringing her breasts to my face and nuzzling in their warmth and deliciousness.

  She giggles, and I grab onto them, squeezing them.

  I kiss and nip at the valley between them and pull back the lace covering her perky nipples.

  Teasing one with my tongue, she reflexively swivels her hips, her cunt now grinding against my cock.

  She moans softly and I continue my torture on the other nipple, massaging both her breasts.

  God, this is fucking heaven.

  Her head falls back, but she sits straight up.

  Reaching behind her, she undoes her bra, and throws it to the other side of the room.

  My mouth curls up in a huge grin, and I grab her ass, thrusting into her.

  I need to be fucking in her.

  She grinds down on me, and we begin dry humping like we’re fucking horny teenagers.

  I sit up and pull her nipple into my mouth, biting down on it.

  My hands explore her bare back, pulling her hair and exposing her neck to me.

  I kiss and lick my way up it, feeling her moans vibrate her skin.

  My tongue parts her lips and intertwines with hers. Our kisses become frantic, and we grasp each other, pinching and pulling at our skin.

  Losing our breath, we begin melting into each other.

  Our bodies becoming one; I don’t think we can get any closer.

  My hand moves to her ass, and I slap it.

  She gasps and kisses me harder.

  She’s always liked it rough; I’d never lie about that. It’s always the angels who have the dirtiest secrets.

  My finger explores between her ripe cheeks, following the fabric of her thong passed her taint, and I touch her wet cunt over the lace.

  She groans into my mouth, and my fingers continue to explore the soaked material, lightly teasing her lips and clit.

  “You’re fucking drenched, angel.”

  She responds by pushing me down, forcing my hands away.

  Without a word, she grabs my cock, and I instinctively jerk into her hands.

  “Ah, Elsa!”

  She smiles through a heated expression and stares at me, a hint of playfulness glimmering in her eyes.

  To my fucking surprise, she slides her hand between her legs and fingers herself.

  I’m stunned. I can’t look away.

  Closing her eyes briefly, she opens them and smiles menacingly.

  She pulls her dripping wet fingers from inside and wraps them around my dick, lubing it with her juices.

  And she slowly but firmly strokes it.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  I close my eyes hard, completely bewildered, and my ache becomes excruciating.

  A deep feral groan ripples through me.

  I can’t take this anymore. And I don’t care about the fucking camera.
>
  I need to take her...now.

  Without a second thought, I grab her waist, lift her up, and pin her down on the bed with my body.

  I hold her hands above her head so as to keep her from fighting back, and she blinks at me in shock.

  “It’s my turn now, Angel.”

  Chapter 21

  Elsa

  I don’t like taking turns.

  He was putty in my hands, I could bend him to my every need and want.

  I wanted to watch as I tortured him.

  To deny him of his release, while making it harder for him not to combust around me.

  I feel powerful—drunk on tequila, desire, and pride. I’m sure our audience members will get a kick out of the almighty Prince of Lingerie, begging me.

  Underneath him and panting, I fight against his hold, wanting to be on top again.

  But his large chest, strong muscles, and thick cock paralyzes me.

  He thrust his hips against me, and his cock hits my throbbing clit. I bite my lips, trying to cover my moan, but I have to close my eyes.

  The sudden rush of pleasure overwhelms, and I can’t find the willpower in me to hide it.

  He kisses my neck, nipping at the raw skin.

  “Why don’t you let me show you how it’s done?” he whispers into a sensitive spot behind my ear.

  Seriously? Now I know he’s peacocking for the camera.

  But I won’t let him win, at least not without putting in one damn good fight—like always.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and run my hands in his hair, and I simultaneously dig my heels into his ass, hard, and tug his hair.

  He winces in pain and looks at me, anger flashing through his eyes. But he recovers quickly, and stares at me greedily.

  Fuck, he’s hungry.

  “So, that’s how you want to play this game?”

  “I never give in without a fight.” I wink.

  His eyes twinkle with excitement, and he smirks.

  Suddenly, he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me up.

  “Bring it on, angel.”

  Taking my shoes off, he carries me to the dresser.

  “Is the bed not good enough for you?” I tease him, with my best arrogant expression.

  “I like you more…exposed.” He kisses me roughly, effectively shutting me up.