by Autumn, Kyle
“Oh my god!” she squeals. “Did you really just say that?”
“That couldn’t have been the first time you’ve heard that,” I grumble, my “package” deflating by the second.
“It’s not,” she gets out between giggles. “But it was hilarious coming from you!”
“So glad I could amuse you,” I complain. Then I try to push away from her.
She doesn’t let me though. “Hey,” she sings with laughter, pulling me to her. “It was funny. You laughed at it too. Laugh with me. You don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.”
That gives me pause. Am I always that serious? Not that she’d really know for sure, but I think she can tell. And I think she’s right. So I take a deep breath and release it along with the unnecessary tension I was holding on to. Right now, we’re together in her bed, and I shouldn’t have to think about my reputation or my ego. She’s telling me that this is a safe space, so I let go.
I wrap her up in my arms and enjoy this moment. Perhaps a little too much, because I capture her lips with mine. Hers are warm and soft, just the way I hoped they’d be. Inviting and sweet. Enticing and perfect.
I don’t think I could have picked a better fake-but-real fiancée if I’d tried harder. I could kiss her all day every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it. I know that much just from this first amazing kiss. Because it feels realer and more genuine than any other kiss I’ve ever experienced.
It doesn’t seem that I’ve taken her by surprise with this kiss. Instead, she kisses me back, tightening her grip around me too. When I instinctively grind my hard dick against her, though, that makes her take a second to think about what’s really going on here, and we reluctantly break apart. But it’s not awkward or weird. We pant heavy breaths together and smile, our noses touching and our arms around each other.
“I like this,” she says.
“Did I go too far?” I ask her. “I don’t want to push you or cross a line or anything.”
She shakes her head. “I just…”
“Just what?” I prod.
But she still only stares at me. Which is very unlike her. Speechless seems like a rare thing when it comes to her, so it intrigues me.
“Use your words, Shiree. They haven’t failed you yet.” Then I wink at her.
After a deep breath, she says, “I just want to make sure you’re one hundred percent in this.” She exhales the rest of that breath. “That’s all.”
I take a moment to look at her eyes. To really stare and find the root of this. She’s never been shy before, always telling me like it is, even sassing me when she felt like it. But I like this tender, careful side of her too. She’s fascinating, and I think I’ll enjoy getting to know every single side she has.
“One hundred percent,” I agree. Then I rub my nose against hers. “All in.”
“Good.” Her lips curl into a smile—a devilish one. “Because my Saturday mornings involve cleaning.” She raises her eyebrows and says, “Lots and lots of cleaning,” before jumping out of bed.
What?
Chapter 7
Shiree
He’s looking at me like I spoke Latin instead of plain, old English. His eyes are huge, his mouth is hanging open, and I’m not sure if that’s more about the not-having-sex part or the having-to-clean part. Either way, it’s fun to watch. He isn’t used to either of these things, and I enjoy bringing him out of his comfort zone. He’ll turn the tables as soon as he’s able, but for now, I’ll appreciate that it’s my turn.
“I’m sure you have maids for this in your mansion and your office, but in the real world, I have to do this myself,” I tell him as I make my way around the bed. “And I like to do it early on the weekend so I can enjoy the rest of it in peace. So let’s go.” On top of the blanket, I slap his leg to drive my point home.
“You don’t have to do this yourself, you know,” he says as he reluctantly pulls the comforter off his body. Then he sits up on the bed, his legs dangling over the side. “As my fiancée, you can take advantage of my many benefits, not the least of which is my money. I’m sure we can get a last-minute maid in here. Doesn’t matter what it costs.”
I wave a finger at him. “I hear you loud and clear, Richie Rich, but my house, my life, my rules. We do this ourselves.”
As I pass by him, his hand encircles my wrist. But he doesn’t drop it this time. He tugs me to him, and the force sends me stumbling right onto his lap.
“How about we compromise?” he asks, wrapping an arm around me and pressing me to him. With his free hand, he cups my face—a move I’m learning to enjoy. “I’ll help you clean as much as you want if we start this day off right.” Then he kisses me, giving me a clue as to how he wants to start this day. “Every relationship has compromise, and there’s no better way to lift our spirits before a tiresome day of cleaning than a little…”
When his hands grip my waist and push me down onto his bulging erection, his message is clear.
His boxer briefs don’t exactly hide anything, so I noticed last night how much he’s packing. And all of my package-handling skills are sharp and well honed. But the fact that we barely know each other makes me want to hold back. Not give this up so easily. However, if we’re really engaged, does it matter? We’ll do this eventually, if this lasts. And if I have my way…
So I lean down to his ear and huskily say, “Show me what you got, Mr. Masters.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Miss James? It’s Chaz,” he informs me before flipping me onto my back on the bed. He bends over me, his breath hot on my ear when he says, “And I’m gonna make you scream it over and over again so you’ll never forget it.”
“Do it,” I goad him. “Give it to me.”
He gets off the bed and rips my shorts—the shortest pair I own—down my legs. His shock is visible when he notices my lack of panties beneath them. While he’s recovering, I tear my skimpy tank top over my head and throw it behind him on the floor. We’re cleaning after this, so I’ll pick it up then.
Now that I’m completely naked, I decide he should be too. So I scoot to the side of the bed, hook my thumbs in his boxer briefs, and yank them down. His cock bobs right in front of my face—damn, it’s just what I thought it’d be from what I saw last night. Enticing and perfect. Inviting and hopefully sweet.
I won’t know unless I taste it, so…
I grab it, wrap my lips around it, and swirl my tongue over the tip. It picks up a drop of pre-come—salty and, just as I thought, sweet. Then, as I suck him, I lift my gaze to his, and he’s staring at me in absolute wonder and awe. I’m pretty sure any of those other bimbos have sucked his dick before, so I’m not sure why he’s staring at me like that. I pop my lips off him anyway though.
With his cock still in my hand, I ask, “Was I not supposed to do that? It was right in my face.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me hard right on the mouth. “We’re gonna get along just fine,” he says against my lips. Then he pushes me back on the bed. “But I did say I was gonna make you scream my name, and I intend on making good on that promise.” Nudging my entrance with his dick, he grips my thighs. “I’m clean. Are you?”
I nod up at him. “But I’m not on the pill. And I never will be.”
“Condom it is,” he says, reaching for his pants, which are on the floor. Once he’s rolled it on, he returns to me and hovers over my body. “You”—kiss on my neck—“are”—kiss on my throat—“so”—kiss on my chin—“sexy.”
A sensual tremor runs through my body, and then he glides into me. Slowly, savoring the moment for what it is—our first time. There’s something freeing about not knowing much about him in this moment. We have no expectations, no prior experience to live up to. I am who I am, and he is who he is. And, together, we can experience each other for the first time.
Do we ever.
As he thrusts into me, he keeps his eyes on mine, his rhythm steady but unhurried. Not quite the man posses
sed I thought he’d be. But I like it though. Much more than I would have otherwise. Because it’s like he’s finally remembering that I’m part of this equation too. Even though this is another place I would have expected him to do as he pleased. Seeing as he’s only been with bimbos who likely wanted him to get off more than he cared about getting them off.
Maybe this is him doing as he pleases though. Maybe I should stop assuming the worst and give him some room to make this work between us. No matter how crazy that sounds.
I put my heels on the edge of the bed and rock my hips up so he can go deeper. Which he does. Deeper and a little harder. And I meet him pound for pound. Each one sweeter and more delicious than the last.
Then I slip my hand down my stomach and over my core before settling on my clit. I’m not the kind of woman who comes without a little stimulation there, and I’m used to taking care of that myself. So, when he snatches my hand, pins it to the bed, and does the same with my other hand, I go to protest. But he won’t have it.
“I’ll be the one to do that,” he growls out between thrusts, his lips brushing mine.
Again, I want to protest. No one tells me what I can and can’t do with my own body. Yet I’m incredibly turned on when he pulls out of me and drops to his knees. So I zip my lips and go with it.
When his fingers spread me open and his tongue lands on my clit, my toes curl and my breath rushes out of my lungs. I can’t remember the last time a man did this to me and knew what he was doing. But Chaz most certainly does. He expertly licks and sucks and flicks like we’ve been doing this song and dance for years. Somehow, he knows exactly what my body wants and needs to come alive. I’m arching my back, twisting and writhing while his mouth is on me.
Within seconds, while I ride the wave of ecstasy, I do just what he wanted me to—scream his name. At this point, I’ll never forget it.
“That’s my girl,” he says before kissing his way down my inner thigh. Then he rises to his feet and enters me once more.
As I come down from that amazing orgasm, he pounds into me, and it’s the perfect mix of bliss and back-down-to-Earth. He plays my body like an instrument he’s perfected his craft on. I honestly can’t believe how seamless our coming together has been.
It only drives home the fact that this could be real someday. This doesn’t have to be charade, and maybe our bedroom compatibility will make that clear for him. A girl can hope, I suppose.
Because I certainly wouldn’t mind doing this all the time. Wouldn’t mind it one bit.
***
Chaz
My god. This woman feels even better around my dick than I thought she would. I have to run through business figures to keep myself from coming too fast. Which, I’ll admit, is half the reason I had to stop in the middle of it and eat her sweet pussy. Seems like I remembered how, seeing as she nearly launched herself off the bed and came on my tongue so quickly.
Again, though, I’m about to lose it. She’s so tight and warm that I can’t help myself. So I don’t. I allow myself to let go and enjoy this moment for what it is: the first, and hopefully the worst, time with my fiancée. As I empty myself inside her, our gazes lock. My pleasure looks like her pleasure. And our emotions swirl together, the power of them almost knocking me over.
Maybe I am a pussy after all. Yet, with her, I don’t mind. I feel safe and cared for with her like this. If that makes me a pussy, I couldn’t give a fuck right now. I somehow know that this woman is worth all of that.
When I’m able to move after my orgasm, I pull myself from her and fall next to her on the bed. She curls against my side, and I bring her closer to me. Her nose presses into my neck, and she nuzzles me.
“I didn’t take you for a cuddler, Mr. Masters,” she teases.
I counter with, “And I thought you screamed my name loud enough to never forget it.”
Her soft laugh rumbles in her chest, which vibrates through mine. With her in my arms, I feel comfortable. Like, all along, I was meant to live the manwhore life before Shiree sat down at my desk so that I’d be able to experience all of these firsts with her. Including fucking cuddling.
“You’re right though,” I confirm, tightening my arm around her. “I wasn’t a cuddler. No one’s stayed around long enough to cuddle. Women take what they want from me and go. When they don’t, I show them the door. Because what they want has never been me. It’s always been something else about me. And I guess I haven’t been desperate enough to try to cuddle with any of the gold diggers and users.”
She draws patterns on my chest. “So, you’re desperate enough now?”
My whole body tenses at her question, and I grip her and pull her on top of me so we’re eye to eye. “Don’t even think that,” I tell her firmly. “This whole thing started all messed up, but we’re doing this now. This isn’t desperation for some human connection. Okay?”
She stares at me like she’s unsure whether to believe me or not, and that kills me. Yes, I came here to propose a fake engagement to convince the board I’m worthy of my own damn company. But I had plenty of women to choose from. None of them would have held a candle to Shiree, and she needs to know that.
“I mean it,” I stress. “Yeah, it’s a lonely life to lead, but I was doing it just fine. Until you came into my life. I may not be able to explain it, but this is real. This wasn’t a desperate post-fuck cuddle. Not a chance.”
Finally, she relents. I don’t know if she believes me or not, but she nods.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”
“Well,” she says, “if it’s settled, then it’s time to clean.” But then she yawns, which takes the fight out of her words.
“Since you didn’t specify, I’m going to take the liberty of assuming you mean clean up our bodies.” So I get up and scoop her into my arms in one fluid motion, which makes her squeal in surprised excitement. Then I carry her down the hall to… “Where’s the bathroom?”
Smiling, she points to one of the doors, so I go to it and enter the bathroom. Once in there, I set her on the sink and set to getting the shower ready. As the water heats up and steam clouds the room, I remove the condom and throw it in her trash. With the way she’s watching me, I might need to get another one for when we get under the spray.
I’ve never been ready to go again this quickly. At least, not since I was a horny teenager who couldn’t stop jacking off. But one look from Shiree makes me hard as a rock. Which is pointed out as my current state when she points again, this time to my raging erection. And the grin on her lips sends the rest of whatever blood was not in my dick straight there.
“God, woman,” I growl, snatching her off the sink. “What are you doing to me?”
As I step us into the shower stall, she giggles. “I’m not doing anything.”
I press her back against the shower wall and look deep into her eyes. “You don’t have to do anything to do something to me.”
I’m not even sure why. I don’t know what it is about her or what spell she’s put over me. Yes, she’s gorgeous. Beautiful. Stunning. Sexy. She’s also smart and snappy. Fiery and clever. But one sexual encounter with her and I’m addicted to the drug that is Shiree.
Her stunned, wide eyes give me the feeling she’s never been loved before. And she knows all about how I have never loved before. So maybe we can navigate this new world together. Even if it’s way too soon to bring that word into the mix. I need a fiancée, so I need to get used to it. And she seems crazy enough to be willing to play along.
I just hope, as I slide into her for the second time, that she’s willing to make it real, too.
Chapter 8
Shiree
My god. This man has so many different sides. I almost feel awful about having been so wrong about him. Though I wasn’t exactly wrong. I misunderstood. And I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to understand them all.
Seems like a far cry from two days ago, when I practically wanted to kill him. But, if love feels better than this, I can’t po
ssibly let this go. Because whatever we currently have feels pretty damn good.
After our shower, where he thoroughly fucked me yet again, I went back to my room. He decided to stay in the shower and actually wash up. So I’m now dry, dressed, and ready to actually clean my house.
But then his phone beeps.
You know, I’m all about keeping my promises, being loyal, and saying what I think. But I also do what I want to do. And I want to know the truth about this whole thing with Chaz. For some reason, I think that might be on his phone. Perhaps in a series of text messages to his friend Blake. Which is what I find when I dig his phone out of his pants and open it. An incoming text from Blake.
Blake: Dude. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you since last night. You better text me back today.
While I’m holding it, it beeps again and another text comes through.
Blake: Seriously, man. You better have gotten that chick to be your fake fiancée. And don’t fuck it up. The last thing you need right now is to lose your focus on YOUR company.
When I’m done reading the second message, I drop the phone, and it thuds to the floor.
What a mistake this was. Tears spring to my eyes as I remember why he’s in my house. Why he came to me a mess and a half last night. He had to have lied when he said that this wasn’t about desperation. Because it is. He needs to save his company, and I’m just a pawn in his game.
Committing that to memory would do me some good.
The bathroom door clicks open, so I scramble to get his phone back in his pants pocket before he walks back into my room. I manage to succeed, and then I head out of my room just as he arrives at the door. He only has a towel wrapped around his waist, so I keep my gaze down as I pass him so as not to be distracted by his chiseled frame. But he stops me with a hand on my upper arm before I can get too far.
