Dirty Fake Fiancé

by Sky Corgan

  I can't think about that right now, because if I do, then I'll want to leave. The haze of fantasy that Xan might one day think of me as more than an employee is gone. I see things as they are. I'm his assistant and servant, nothing more.

  I finish my prayers and stand, my nostrils flaring as I inhale the thick scent of...me. I changed into the night clothes I brought from home last night and washed the panties of the lingerie that Xan had given me in the bathroom sink and hung it to dry over the shower rod. I don't understand why the air in the room is still so heavy with the smell of my arousal from yesterday. It's quite disturbing—a reminder of what Xan does to me.

  I change back into the lingerie before heading downstairs to make breakfast. To my surprise, Xan is in the kitchen bent over the counter scribbling something on a piece of notebook paper. I hadn't expected him to be up yet. He's wearing a pair of blue pajama pants that hang from his hips and draw my eyes to his perfectly toned ass.

  At the sound of my footsteps, he turns, seeming just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. “Good morning, Christiana.”

  My eyes dip to the front of his pajamas where the outline of his cock is clearly visible. There's little left to the imagination. It's so well defined that I can see the ridges of his glans.

  I gulp, worried that he might want to make use of his erection. “Good morning, sir.”

  “I was just writing down how I like my coffee in case you wandered in here before coming to my office.” He gestures to the notebook paper. “I suppose it was a smart move, though I didn't expect you to be up so early.”

  “I always get up early, sir.” I avert my eyes, hoping he didn't catch me looking at his dick.

  “Well then, I'll leave you to it.” He walks past me, and I feel the heat of his body as we cross paths.

  I take long strides to read what he wrote down, turning to catch him before he has a chance to disappear to wherever he's headed. “No breakfast, sir?”

  He pauses and casts a glance over his shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck lazily. “Breakfast will come later. Coffee will be fine for now.”

  He disappears, and I think of how strange the encounter was. Is this what it would be like to be married to him? Meeting down in the kitchen. Seeing him like this every morning with the haze of sleep in his eyes. Aside from his swollen cock, he seemed non-threatening. Almost like a normal human being. Like we could share the morning as a couple.

  Stop it, Christiana. I shake my head. He's your boss. You have got to get over these irrational fantasies you're having about him.

  I sigh as I get to work making his coffee. At least I wasn't thinking about having sex with him. Of course, the second that relief from the absence of those thoughts comes over me, I start thinking about having sex with him. I picture the porno from last night, except the girl on the coffee table is me, and the husband is him. I remember her pussy spread open so wide, wondering what it must have felt like to have him inside of her. I'm both terrified and intrigued to know that feeling someday. To know it with Xan.

  I take the coffee upstairs and find Xan already at work at his desk. He regards me politely as he takes the coffee from me, then he sits me next to him and gets me started on the day's tasks. I enter a folder full of receipts into spreadsheet software on his laptop for half of the morning before he tells me it's time for us to take a break.

  “I think I'm ready for breakfast,” he says, leaning back in his chair and chewing on his thumbnail for a moment.

  “Me, too.” I'm starving. It's just past 9 AM. I typically eat breakfast at around 6:30 AM, but I didn't bother making myself anything this morning because I figured that Xan would want me to cook for him. “What would you like for me to make?”

  Xan looks at me out of the corner of his eye and smirks, his arm dropping to the armrest of his office chair. “You disrupted my plans by waking up early this morning, Miss Miller.”

  “I'm sorry, sir?”

  He rolls away from his desk a foot to open one of the drawers and pulls out a hanger with another set of lingerie more scantily designed than what I'm currently wearing. This one is royal blue, made of all silk and lace. There are plenty of parts that are uncomfortably sheer, like the legs of the panties and half of each bust cup. I suck in a breath as I take it in.

  “You need to change for the day.” He lays the lingerie across his desk.

  “Sir, this is a little...” I finger the soft lace on the bottom of the cami.

  “Oh, come now. After what we did together last night, you should be feeling more comfortable about letting me see your body.” His expression is wolfish, and the reminder of how wanton I was and the way I moved on top of him instantly makes my cheeks flame.

  “I'd like to preserve some modesty.” I fold my arms over my chest, refusing to take the lingerie.

  “How about preserving your job?” His tone takes a cruel turn.

  I tense from the threat. Is it always going to be like this? Will he dangle a pink slip in front of my face every time I defy him? It doesn't quite seem fair.

  “Come here, Christiana.” Xan taps the top of his desk with his fingertips.

  I resist the urge to arch an eyebrow at him. I'm already sitting close to him. What does he expect of me?

  I roll my chair closer, and his brow furrows in disappointment. “No. Stand up. Come here,” he says in a more authoritative voice.

  I do what I'm told, taking the few steps forward until I'm right in front of him.

  He grabs me by the hips and guides me back against his desk. “Sit.”

  “What?” I glance at his keyboard.

  Seeing my hesitation, Xan stands and reaches around me to push his keyboard out of the way. Then with one sweeping motion, he clears everything else onto the floor, somehow managing to miss the lingerie. I cringe as I listen to the sounds of pens clattering against hardwood and papers leafing together as they make a slow fluttery descent. Xan's body is practically on top of mine, and the room just got about twenty degrees hotter.

  “Sit,” he repeats, though my butt is already halfway on the desk.

  I wiggle my way further onto it. Continually displeased with my performance, Xan lifts me up like I weigh nothing and places me further back on the desk. I clamp my legs shut, confused about what he's doing—about what he wants me to do.

  He cups my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “You're a very disobedient employee, do you know that? It's a wonder you got so far in my company.”

  His words sting. I had been doing perfectly fine until he took me on as his personal assistant. Until then, there had been no complaints about me. He's just a demanding boss. Demanding and pushy and oh my he's looking at me with those eyes again.

  My mouth goes dry as I stare up at him. I'm captivated by his intense gaze, and he smells amazing, like soap and masculinity. The heat of his body draws me in, making me want things I shouldn't. And those lips. All I can think about is kissing them.

  He traces the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, and my mouth instinctively opens for him. I can't stop looking at his lips, silently begging him to kiss me. I know he's about to do something inappropriate, and if I had my choice, it would be that. To feel his mouth on mine. To know what he tastes like.

  His grip tightens, and he bends slightly, turning my head to the side to growl seductively in my ear, “I told you that I'm hungry.”

  I let out a shuddering breath as his hand leaves my face, feeling my nipples tighten against the material of my camisole. It's astounding what he can do to me with just a few words; a few looks. Within seconds, I'm rendered powerless against him.

  His hands land on my knees, so large that they cover them completely. His eyes bore into mine, making me feel so many forbidden desires.

  “You will spread for me,” he says as he pries my legs apart.

  I gasp, knowing that there's probably already a wet stain at my center. I close my eyes to avoid his judging gaze, my hands shooting back to support me. Xan grips my thighs, pulling m
e to the edge of the desk. My arms give out, and I fall back, my head dangling over the edge. I feel something between my legs only a moment before I realize that Xan has buried his face there and is inhaling my scent.

  His eyes flutter beneath his thick lashes before he looks at me over my mound. “You smell incredible. I bet you taste even better.”

  “Xan,” I squeak out his name as he roughly pulls my panties aside. Before I have time to object further, his tongue parts my folds to push inside my opening.

  I cry out, my head dropping back as a surge of pleasure races through me.

  “Mmm,” he mumbles into me, twisting his hands around the crotch of my underwear until I hear them rip.

  I whimper as I feel the slick blade of his tongue swipe up my folds, spreading them. He puts his lips on me, sucking the wetness from my slit before moving up to circle my clit. It feels so good that I can barely breathe. Every ounce of my focus is centered on his face between my legs, teasing me to heaven.

  I try to relax, giving in to my need for everything he's doing to me. He nibbles and kisses and blows, making me squirm and squeal. Any time I try to close my legs, he keeps them forced open. Knowing he has full control turns me on way more than I ever thought it could. And despite what I keep trying to tell myself, I love what he's doing—love what's going on between us.

  Xan's mouth wraps around my clit. He applies pressure, his tongue dashing out to tap at the sensitive bundle of nerves. I'm so close to orgasm that my toes are already starting to curl. But just when I'm about to reach the summit, he pulls away.

  I lift my head, giving him a pleading look. He grins wickedly at me, knowing exactly what he's doing.

  “Tell me you want it.” He probes a digit at my entryway.

  I blush, fearful of being penetrating in any way but feeling my body beg for it at the same time. I can't decide if I want to squirm away or press my hips towards him.

  “Xan, I'm...” I swallow my own words.

  “About to come. I know. That's why I stopped.” He sounds smug.

  That's not what I was going to say. I was going to tell him that I'm a virgin—that I don't want him putting any part of him inside of me. His tongue has already been there. It was gentle, unable to spread me too wide. His finger is solid, though.

  He pushes the tip in, then slides in all the way to the knuckle. I gasp, my head falling back. The second his thumb presses down on my clit, I shatter. My body isn't even that full of him, but it was enough to send me over the edge. I hadn't expected to enjoy the sensation as much as I did. Now, I'm truly craving his cock, wondering what it will feel like to be spread even further.

  Xan curses, curling his finger inside of me and making me pant as he starts thrusting his hand back and forth, touching some deep inner part of me that was made for pure pleasure. “You're so fucking tight,” he hisses. “I can't wait to pop your cherry.”

  The world stills around me. He knows. Maybe he always has. Even worse, I now know that he intends to take things all the way.

  “Xan, we can't,” I tell him, though it's hard to focus on what I'm saying when I'm still caught in the throes of passion.

  He pushes another finger at my opening. This time it hurts. The pressure of him forcing it in is painful. It makes me doubt my earlier desires.

  Once he gets the tip in, he jams it in the rest of the way, burning a path inside of me. He leans over me, his eyes hooded and dark. “Haven't you figured it out yet, Christiana? You belong to me. Every part of you. I'll fuck you whenever and however I want.”

  Fear grips my heart, but then he starts moving his fingers again, and it melts into something else. His hand pumps into me fiercely. It hurts, but the pain is usurped by something deep in my belly—a more intense pleasure than anything I've felt before. I moan and whimper with each thrust of his hand, my pussy squelching crudely as my body lubricates his fingers.

  Xan's face fades away from my field of vision, and when his mouth wraps around my clit, fireworks go off. I reach forward for anything to ground me, curling my fingers into Xan's hair. I can't tell if I'm trying to push him away or suffocate him with my cunt. All I know is that I don't let him go until the contractions have stopped and the fog of my orgasm has dissipated and left me breathless and exhausted, a mound of flesh and fluid on his desk.

  He withdraws his fingers, making me feel sadly empty. Then he laps at my opening until there's nothing left but his saliva. I let go of his hair and just lie there, so stunned by his words and what just happened that I can't even move.

  “Your pussy is fucking delicious,” he tells me when he finally emerges.

  I watch as he takes the new lingerie from his desk, unfastening the underwear from the hanger. He rolls back in his chair and slips my feet into them, then pulls them up my thighs. It's not until he gets to my hips that I finally come back to life and sit up. All I can do is stare at him as he takes such care in dressing me.

  “Take that top off,” he tells me as he goes to remove the new camisole from its hangar, and I give no further resistance. He's already seen the most intimate parts of me—had his hands on me, his fingers in me, his mouth and tongue driving me to the height of bliss. My tits aren't sacred. Besides, I'm sure he's seen a thousand other pairs before.

  He smiles at me when I pull the top over my head. “You're being much better for me now, Christiana.”

  I hold my arms out, and he slips the new camisole on me, pulling it down until the material rests on top of my breasts. I bite my bottom lip as I see the mischievous grin return to his face. He circles my waist with his hands, pulling me to the edge of the desk and burying his face between my tits. When his fingers come up to pinch my erect nipples, his name slips from my lips in the most erotic voice I've ever used.

  “So sensitive,” he whispers against my chest before lightly clipping one of my nipples between his teeth.

  The electric jolt that runs to my core lights me up again as if I could handle a marathon of orgasms. My ass falls from the desk as Xan pulls me to him and I land on his lap with my legs spread, his cock resting against my V. My cunt pulses, wanting him inside of me. It's something needy from the very depths of me as if my womb is begging to be filled by him.

  “Fuck, Christiana.” Xan emerges breathlessly as if it took all his strength. “Go make my fucking breakfast before I can't control myself.” He turns away, his callous expression sucking all the warmth from the room.

  He practically pushes me off of his lap, causing me to stumble while I get my footing. I make haste out of the office because he sounds angry for some reason, though I can't help but look back at him before I go. He's wearing the same expression he wore last night after he made me come with his fingers—like something inside of him has shut off. I don't know how to react to it. All I can do is obey.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The rest of the day proceeds on as if nothing happened between us. Xan eats his breakfast like a man starved, then we return to his office to work for two more hours before he makes me fix him lunch. I feel like I spend more time in the kitchen than out of it. Shortly after lunch, he gives me another shopping list for dinner and sends me out with his driver. I'm not sure why he didn't make me get ingredients for both meals the day before. It's kind of annoying, but I'll do whatever he wants as long as he keeps me in his employ.

  I serve him the salt-crusted fish I made for dinner, then sit beside him and assess his expression as he takes the first bite. His lips pucker slightly, a good sign that I messed up again. I must not have packed the salt and egg white mixture tightly enough, which means the salt probably leaked into the fish. A forkful of the flesh confirms it. The meal is pretty much inedible.

  I sigh, leaning back in my chair, waiting to be reprimanded, wishing that Xan would request less complicated dishes. Discomfort churns in my belly as I brace myself for the confrontation. It doesn't come, though. Instead, Xan moves on to eating the salad and steamed broccoli I made as sides, picking at the fish occasionally without complaint.
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  While I don't dare ask him what he thinks of the meal, the silence between us is killing me. Eating with him seems to always be a quiet affair. It reminds me of being tables apart in a cafeteria. Never do I feel further from him than when we're sharing a meal.

  “Have you ever been married?” I want to suck the question back in almost as quickly as it leaves my mouth. That was not the best ice breaker to start with. I am curious, though. More curious about if he currently has someone in his life.

  “No,” he replies shortly.

  “This is a big house to live in by yourself.” My eyes flutter around the room, looking past the four walls to everything else around us—to so many empty bedrooms and living spaces.

  Xan sets his fork down. It clanks against his plate, making me jump. “Does it bother you that I'm not married?”

  “No.” I sink into my chair, fearing I've angered him by being too chatty.

  “If I were married, what we've done together would be truly scandalous.” A hint of amusement tugs at his lips.

  “It's still scandalous,” I mutter.

  “Tell me about your family, Miss Miller.” He continues eating.

  I frown at the fact that he turned the conversation to me. I've been longing to know more about him since I stepped into his mansion, but he seems to be a secretive man.

  There's no point in hiding anything from him, so I tell him everything. It's a horrible thing to hope for, but perhaps if he takes pity on me, he won't treat me so harshly. I tell him about growing up on and off the streets, about having to sleep on the couches of strangers until my mother was financially stable enough to afford to rent out a room for us. I skip the parts about the unsavory roommates we've had in the past, moving straight into the blessing that Ruby and Dorothy have been. I tell him about the countless days I've spent baking bread with my mother and selling it on the streets. That part of the story seems to fascinate him more than anything else.

  “Did you have any interesting experiences doing that?” he asks.