Filthy Fiance: A Fake Engagement Romance

by Cat Carmine

  She giggles nervously. “What are you doing?”

  “What I’ve wanted to do since the minute you stepped off that plane.”

  Celia taps her lips, pretending to think. “Now what could that be?”

  “Get over here, you minx.” I pull her into my arms, unable to resist her for another second. She’s so fucking hot when she’s pretending to be coy.

  And trust me, I know she’s pretending. I can see the lust written across her face as plain as day.

  My hands slip around her narrow waist and I press the length of her body against mine. I can already feel my cock starting to stir. She’s so soft and she fits so nicely against me. It’s almost like we were meant for this.

  I tug her head back, exposing her pale throat, and then I’m running my lips all over her, desperate to take in that smell, that warmth. She melts against me and a soft moan escapes her lips. That only makes me harder and I use my other hand to cup her ass, pulling her against me so she’ll know exactly the effect she has on me.

  I spin her around so that she’s facing the large mirror over the vanity. I can see both of us reflected in the glass, and I can see the hesitation in her eyes, wondering what I’m doing.

  “We’re going to finish what we started in your apartment the other day,” I tell her, my voice hoarse. “After all, I promised you I would — once you got to Chicago.”

  “And here I am,” she says, breathless.

  I grin. “Yes. Here you are.”

  I reach around and undo the button at the top of her jeans and then the zipper too. I push them and the soft blue underwear she’s wearing down over her thighs, past her knees. She kicks them off easily, so that she’s naked from the waist down.

  I take in her reflection in the mirror, as she does the same. Her face is flushed, the skin going pink all the way down into the low vee of her shirt. Her green eyes are hooded, lust-filled. Her chest heaves and her nipples poke sharply through the thin fabric of her shirt. Her thighs are tensed. In the slight gap at their crest, I can see her pink lips, already plump and swollen and glistening.

  Her body is begging me to touch her, but I want to hear her beg me too.

  I cup my hand under her chin, tilting her face to the mirror so she can’t look away from our reflection.

  “Tell me what you want, Celia.”

  “You.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

  “Tell me what you want,” I say again. My other hand is on her waist, my fingers splayed out against her skin but not touching her anywhere she really wants to be touched.

  She shifts her weight, angling her hips a little.

  “I want you to touch me.”

  I grin. “I am touching you.”

  She whimpers a little, partly in frustration and partly, I’m sure, in embarrassment. But I want her to know how sexy she is, how powerful it is to claim that.

  “I want you to touch … my pussy.”

  “Good girl.” I move my hand down across her taught stomach and then I cup my palm over her mound.

  “Like this?”

  She bites her lip, then shakes her head. Her dark hair is loose and tickles the underside of my chin. I get a waft of her shampoo, and the sweet clean coconut scent mixed with the muskiness coming from between her legs is enough to send another rush of blood to my cock.

  “Tell me, Celia.”

  “I want you to touch my clit. Tease it.” Her cheeks are even redder than they were before, if that’s possible.

  I do as she says, finally flicking my finger between her lips and finding her swollen bud. She gasps as soon as my finger makes contact, and I press against it, circling it gently and then flicking it with a little more roughness.

  Celia’s breathing is coming harder already and I know she wants this so bad she isn’t going to take long.

  I keep rubbing her clit, holding up her head so she has no choice but to watch us in the mirror. Her green eyes have gone dark, a perfect shade of deep woods, and her pussy is the bright pink of a sweet cherry.

  Her lips are slick too, and I know she must want more than just to have her clit touched. Her pussy must be aching.

  “Tell me what else you want.” My lips are against the shell of her ear.

  She angles her hips again. Granting me better access.

  “I want you inside me.” There’s less hesitation this time, and I let my tongue stroke the edge of her ear as she shudders. “I want you to finger me.”

  Her words are almost enough for me to blow a nut right there. But I want to give her what she wants, what she asked for. I slide my hand lower down her body until I find her entrance. As I expected, she’s gushing like a geyser, and my hand is almost instantly soaked. I slip the tip of my middle finger inside of her, just enough to tease her.

  “How’s this?”

  She groans, then grabs my wrist, plunging my hand upwards so that my finger is all the way inside her.

  “Fuck me, Jace. Fuck me with your hand.”

  She pushes her ass backwards and I breathe into the back of her neck. Fuck, she’s hot.

  I give her what she wants. I slowly slide my finger out and then press two fingers against her entrance. Soon I’m fucking her roughly with my fingers, the heel of my hand rubbing against her lips and her clit, the friction enough to make her thighs quiver and shake.

  Her mouth opens in a round oh and her head tilts back, leaning against my shoulder. Her pussy clenches around me, gripping my fingers and pulling me to her.

  My dick is straining against the inside of my jeans, and I wish that it was my cock inside of her instead of just my fingers, but for now this will have to do. After all, that was our agreement anyway — she helps me and I help her.

  When her body finally stops shaking, Celia slumps backwards against my chest. I kiss the side of her neck and then, as she watches me in the mirror, I bring my fingers to my lips and lick her sweet nectar off them.

  “You’re lucky the rest of my family’s going to be here any minute,” I tell her. “Otherwise, just a lick wouldn’t be enough. I want to taste you for real … but it’ll have to wait until tonight.”

  “Okay,” she says. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “But only if you let me taste you too.”

  I grin, my cock surging again. I’m sure she feels it in her lower back.

  “Deal.” I glance down at my watch. “But right now, we have a different kind of show to put on.”

  10

  Celia

  Jace leaves me alone in the washroom to freshen up but I spend most of my time waiting for my breathing and my heart rate to go down, for the blood to stop coloring my cheeks. God, that man knows his way around a woman’s pussy. I shiver again, just at the memory, and a tiny aftershock quakes through me.

  I splash some cold water on my face and clean up as best as I can, using a white towel I find in the linen closet and reapplying a bit of make-up from my carry-on bag. I have a minor case of sex hair, from where the back of my head was rubbing against Jace’s chest, so I run a brush quickly through my locks and then pull my wild dark waves into a semi-neat top knot. One slash of red lipstick and a spritz of Chanel and I’m good to go.

  I head back downstairs and hear voices coming from the kitchen area. A woman’s voice this time. That means Hannah and Trent must be here.

  I feel a sudden wave of nervousness. I’ve been pretty confident that it would be easy enough to fool Jace’s brothers — they’re guys, after all, and for the most part, guys take things at face value. Women are better at sussing out when something’s not quite right. I don’t know what Hannah’s like, but I really don’t want to blow this for Jace.

  I plaster a smile on my face and step into the kitchen. Jace grins when he sees me, and then lightly runs his finger over his bottom lip, tasting it again. That sends an instant rush of heat to my face — and other parts. I give him a mock glare as I try to smile politely.

  “Celia, this is my other brother Trent, and his bride-to-be, Hannah,” Jace says. �
��The couple of the hour, right, Trent?”

  “Absolutely,” Trent says, grinning. He has the exact same handsome yet cocky grin that both Jace and Luke share. He reaches his hand out for mine. “It’s an absolute pleasure, Celia.”

  I shake his hand and then turn to offer the same greeting to Hannah, but she’s already wrapping me up in a hug.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!” She says warmly. “I was drowning in testosterone here.” She glances down at my hand as we part, then gasps, grabbing my hand. “Jesus, look at that rock!”

  She looks over at Jace, laughing. “Oh, honey, no wonder she said yes. What a gorgeous ring.”

  I know Hannah is just trying to be nice, but I see Jace’s face start to redden a little.

  “Let’s see yours,” I tell her, to change the subject. She proudly shows off an emerald-cut diamond, as big as my knuckle.

  “Wow,” I breathe. “It’s beautiful.” It really is. It’s white gold, with a band of smaller diamonds forming a halo around the main rock.

  “You must be so excited,” I say to her, smiling. “And probably nervous and stressed and counting down the minutes.”

  “Yes,” she laughs. “All of those things. And then some. I just can’t believe it’s finally here — when we started planning, it all seemed so far away. Have you and Jace set a date yet?”

  I glance at Jace. I have no idea what he’s told them, so I go with my gut.

  “Not yet.”

  Hannah looks surprised. “You’re planning a wedding in New York City and you haven’t set a date yet?”

  “Well, actually…we were sort of thinking we might get married in Connecticut. That’s where I’m from. I’ve always wanted a small outdoor wedding, kind of like yours. Just friends, family, delicious food, maybe a bonfire later in the night…” I glance at Jace. He’s looking at me with the most perplexed expression, so I just smile and shrug.

  “And lots of The Steve Miller Band,” he adds.

  Hannah looks confused.

  “Celia loves the Steve Miller Band. She even has a cat named Steve.”

  “That is so adorable,” Hannah says, smiling at both of us.

  Luke finally emerges with a tray of sandwiches.

  “Drinks are on the counter,” he says. “You’re all family which means you can all help yourselves.”

  We all wander into the kitchen to get drinks, then grab sandwiches and head out to the backyard. Hannah and I chat some more about the upcoming wedding, while the guys get into a good natured argument about Chicago versus New York sports teams.

  Despite my expectations, none of it feels weird. In fact, it feels surprisingly comfortable, hanging out with these people who are virtual strangers to me. Hannah is a sweetheart and Trent and Luke feel like they could be the brothers I never had.

  And Jace?

  Well, Jace keeps his hand on my knee, ensuring there’s a constant buzz that vibrates through my body. Every once in a while he’ll give my knee a squeeze or run his hand lightly up my thigh, and all it does is remind me of his promise of what’s to come later.

  I had told him I wanted to taste him … but I want to do more than taste. I still haven’t even seen his cock yet, but all I can think about is having it inside me, filling me, stretching me.

  As if he can read my thoughts, Jace turns and catches my eye, giving me a wink. I think about bending over on the bed in our hotel room, letting him drive his dick into me from behind. I hope he can read that little mental image too.

  “So, Jace, you never did tell us where you managed to meet this lovely fiancee of yours.” Trent’s voice cuts through my fantasy.

  Jace freezes, caught off guard. “Uh….”

  We hadn’t discussed any kind of backstory, which in retrospect is kind of stupid. This is twice now we’ve almost tripped up — I had no idea what his brothers did for a living, that they were the owners and founders of Loft & Barn, and now Jace is stumbling over a simple question. Not exactly great for our cover.

  “We met at the bar, actually,” I interject. “It’s near my office, so I happened to go in one day after work. I got one look at this guy and started hanging out there all the time. I thought he was going to stage an intervention, but eventually he finally asked me out.”

  I smile warmly over at Jace and put my hand over his. It’s an easy enough lie — after all, it’s partly true.

  Trent grins. “And the rest is history, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, softly. “Something like that.”

  Trent turns to Luke. “Well, you know what this means, right? You’re the last single Whittaker brother.”

  Luke sits up. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  Trent shakes his head, laughing. “Well, you’re going to hear it from Mom whether you like it or not. ‘When are you going to settle down, Lukey?’” he says, in a singsong voice that I assume is supposed to be an impression of their mother.

  “I like to keep my options open,” Luke says with a shrug.

  “You’re breaking your mother’s heart,” Jace adds, in the same high-pitched voice as Trent.

  The ribbing is good-natured, and it’s nice to see Jace finally starting to relax, but soon I’m yawning up a storm. Jace catches my eye and nods softly.

  “Well,” he says, getting to his feet. “Celia’s had a long day so I think we’re going to head back to the hotel. You give this girl two glasses of red and you have to prop her eyes open with toothpicks.”

  Everyone laughs, but I look quizzically at Jace. Not because he’s wrong … but because he’s right. Two glasses of red and you do have to prop my eyes open with toothpicks — I’m just surprised he ever noticed that.

  “We’ll see you guys tomorrow?” Jace is saying to the group, as I’m still studying him curiously.

  We all say our goodbyes, fetch my bags from the house, and then we climb into the SUV Jace is borrowing from Luke for the week. Suddenly, being alone with him, I don’t feel quite so tired anymore. Now I just can’t wait to get back to the hotel room.

  11

  Celia

  We’re quiet and polite in the elevator on the way up to our room, and it reminds me of the first night I brought Jace back to my apartment, when we were so chaste … until we weren’t.

  Sure enough, as soon as the hotel room door has clicked closed behind us, Jace throws me up against the wall.

  “Not still tired, I hope?” he asks, cupping my face between his big strong hands.

  “No.” I lick my lips and he growls. He lunges in for the kiss, biting my bottom lip, right where I’d just stroked my tongue. He sucks my lip right between his teeth, pressing down just hard enough to make me squeak. He chuckles low, under his breath, and then his tongue finds mine, stroking and twisting and toying.

  My hands are splayed out across his broad chest and I can feel the muscles rippling through his t-shirt. I suddenly feel desperate to feel his skin against mine, so I reach down and grab the hem of his shirt, tugging it up.

  He grins and helps me strip it off, and then he’s standing in front of me bare-chested and it’s all I can do not to drool over him. His pecs look as if they’re carved out of solid rock, his abs like matching stepping stones on a path I desperately want to go down.

  I let my hands graze over his body but all I can think about is his cock. I reach my hand down and rub it against his bulge, which is satisfyingly hard and grows harder under my touch.

  “You can’t touch me like that if you don’t want me to just throw you down on the bed and fuck you.”

  “Who says I don’t want that?” My ballsiness surprises me, but at this point the man has given me too many orgasms to play coy. I want his cock, and I want it now.

  Jace growls, low in his throat, and then he’s grabbing me by the shoulders and doing exactly what he promised.

  I fly down over the mattress, bouncing a little with the force of his thrust. I barely have time to recover before he’s crawling on top of me, his body heavy and hard, his hands already working
the waistband of my jeans and yanking them down over my hips for the second time today.

  My pussy is already aching, begging for his touch. He spreads my legs and runs his fingers through my cleft, but I already know his hand won’t be enough. Not tonight.

  “I need you to fuck me, Jace,” I whisper. “I need it. Badly.”

  He groans again. “I need that too.” He reaches down to undo his own jeans, shoving them down as roughly as he did mine. He’s wearing a pair of black boxer briefs and they hug his slim hips and do nothing to constrain the massive bulge of his erection. I feel a frisson of anticipation, a shiver.

  I reach down and put my fingers on the waist of his shorts, then tug them down. His cock springs forward. Huge. Hard. Hungry.

  I think he must have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. It’s a monster. I swear it’s longer than my forearm and thicker than my wrist. In other circumstances I might worry about fitting all of him inside of me, but tonight I’m so wet and so desperate for him that the thought of him tearing me apart is more arousing than scary.

  He shimmies out of the boxer briefs, his hard muscled thighs flexing as he braces himself above me. The cocky grin is gone, replaced now by the look of something far more unbridled.

  He lowers himself slowly and rubs the head of his cock over my pussy. I shiver as it passes over my clit, as the beads of moisture from his precum mingle with my own slippery wetness.

  When his cock his slick, he drops lower, nudging up against my entrance. My body contracts immediately at his girth, but he takes his time, pushing oh so slowly into me.

  Every inch feels amazing, stretching me and filling me and claiming me. I grip his shoulders and try to breathe into the feeling. Jace is watching me, his eyes dark and intense, his forearms braced on either side of me as he cradles my face with his hands.

  When he’s finally fully inside me, he pauses for a moment. We stay like that, just watching each other, as we each adjust to the exquisite pleasure of our merging.