Filthy Fiance: A Fake Engagement Romance

by Cat Carmine

  I run my hand along her stomach, sliding it under her flimsy tank top and she moans happily. She slips her hand beneath the covers and finds my cock. I’m already half hard, and her light touch is enough to get me the rest of the way. I nuzzle my nose against the hollow of her neck and let my groan vibrate against her throat.

  Celia giggles, and the sound is like fucking angels tap dancing or something. Her hand slips inside my shorts and curls around my dick and I shift my hips to give her better access.

  “Have I mentioned that I can’t get enough of your cock?” she murmurs, gripping me in her small fist.

  “Yes, but you can tell me again,” I grin.

  She laughs again. “Well, Jace Whittaker, I just can’t get enough of your monster cock. And I’m going to try really, really hard to get my fill before the week is up and this is all over.”

  “Right.” Before this is all over. I watch as she crawls between my knees. The sight is a glorious one but all I can think about is her words — before this is all over.

  Celia slips my cock out of my shorts, and then before I know it, she’s leaning over and flicking her tongue around the head. My body jolts at her touch, and at the way her dark hair is trailing down over my thighs.

  She swirls her tongue all across the tip, getting me all wet and slippery before she pops the head fully into her mouth. It feels incredible but all I can think about is her words.

  “Celia…” I don’t know what I want to say to her. I have a feelings for you? I don’t want this to end in a week? I want this to be real?

  She looks up at me, her green eyes wide, lips wrapped firmly around my dick. It’s insanely fucking hot.

  “Your mouth feels so good on my cock,” I finally say, because I can’t say any of the other things I want to say. We both know the deal here.

  Celia grins, her smile forming around my shaft, and I have to grin back. I wrap her hair around my fist and move it back so that I can watch better. She starts moving her mouth slowly up and down, running her tongue all over the underside of my dick.

  Her mouth feels like heaven, if heaven were warm and wet and soft. She looks up at me with those big green eyes, and I groan to let her know what a good job she’s doing, how much she turns me on.

  She smiles again, as if pleased with herself, which is somehow even hotter than anything else.

  She uses her hand to cup my balls and the way she tugs gently at them while she keeps working my cock with her tongue. I pull her hair a little, just enough to get her to look up at me again.

  “I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” I pant.

  In response, she tilts her head back down and takes me even deeper, so that I’m almost hitting the back of her throat.

  “Oh, Jesus, Celia.” I grip her hair and move her head up and down on my cock, getting the rhythm just right. My balls start to churn and my cock surges and then …

  “Fuck!” I explode into her mouth, sending wave after wave of ropey come down her throat. She wraps her lips tighter around me and swallows, using her hand to slowly pump every last drop from my tip.

  I finally let go of her hair and lean back on my elbows, trying to catch my breath. She gives one last swirl around my cock with her tongue and then sits up on her knees. Her gorgeous lips are stretched into a smug smile.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” she says.

  I grin. “Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself, because I sure as fuck did. Now get over here.”

  I pull her into my lap and run my hands up along her stomach, under that stupidly tiny tank top.

  Like she says, might as well get as much of this in as we can, before the week is over.

  19

  Celia

  I load my plate high with eggs and bacon from the buffet. I need my protein after the vigorous … workouts … Jace has been putting me through this week.

  I slip into my seat across from him and I’m already shoving a piece of bacon in my mouth at the same time that I’m pouring a cup of coffee from the pot in the middle of our table. Why do they never make these restaurant cups any bigger? A well-fucked woman needs her coffee, god dammit.

  “So what do you want to do today?” Jace asks, between mouthfuls of scrambled egg. “We don’t have to be at the rehearsal until four this afternoon, so we could do something fun.”

  “I think we just did something fun,” I tease, but then I think about my options. I’d been hoping to get to see some of the sights here in Chicago, but lately I’ve been thinking there’s something else I’d rather do.

  “I want the Jace tour,” I tell him, as I crunch down on a piece of buttered toast.

  Jace raises his eyebrows. “What’s the Jace tour?”

  “I want to see what your life here was like — where you grew up, where you used to hang out, the places you liked to go.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel incredibly stupid. You’re not his real fiancee, I remind myself. Why in the world would you want to see the childhood home of a man you’re probably not ever going to see again?

  But a wide grin is crossing Jace’s face. “Really? Yeah, okay, we could do that.”

  Butterflies flit through my stomach. That smile just slays me. “Great. This will be fun.”

  After breakfast we go back up to the room to get ready and then head down to the parking garage. We climb into the SUV and Jace flicks around until he finds a radio station he likes.

  “If you’re going to get the Jace tour, you need the full experience,” he says over the music. It’s blasting 70s rock — Pink Floyd, I think. Jace laughs at my expression and turns the volume down.

  “Okay, Miss I-Named-My-Cat-After-The-Steve-Miller-Band. I don’t think you’re one to be judging anyone’s musical tastes.”

  I laugh and stick my tongue out at him, and we drive in companionable silence. Jace takes the highway and heads out of the city. We drive for a while before he exits and leads us to a quaint little suburb and then eventually to a cul de sac. He slows the car and stops in front of a small yellow two-story home.

  “This was the house I grew up in,” he says.

  I look out the window and admire the quaint little front porch, the big oak tree in the yard, and the pink azalea shrub, bursting with color.

  “It’s lovely,” I say honestly. “Kinda ruining your bad boy rep, though,” I tease.

  Jace flashes me a half smile. “I know. It’s a little too picture perfect, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Wait, your mom doesn’t still live here, does she?” She’s going to think we’re incredibly rude if we don’t stop in to say hello, but Jace shakes his head.

  “She sold it after my dad died. Trent and Luke and I had all moved out by that point, and it was just too much work and too much space for her on her own. Now she owns a little townhouse in Oak Park.”

  “My parents downsized a couple of years ago too. It’s strange to go home and sleep in a room that’s not the one I grew up in. I mean, I didn’t expect them to hold on to that house forever, but …” I shrug.

  Jace nods. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  He starts the car up again.

  “Where to next?”

  “I don’t know — I can show you my high school? That seems kind of boring though.”

  “No, I want to see it.” I have no idea why I want to see it — just that it makes me feel closer to him, somehow, to see these parts of his past.

  We drive for a bit and then he turns a corner and pulls up in front of a low brick building, with a huge green and yellow eagle banner hanging from the front.

  “Go Pitney Eagles,” he deadpans and I snort.

  “I take it you weren’t on the spirit committee.”

  “Yeah, no. I wasn’t really a joiner in high school. What about you?”

  “I was … an over-joiner. If you could join it, I did. If I couldn’t join it, I started it myself.” I bite my lip, laughing. “I was that girl who started a Stop Smoking club at my school and t
ried to get all the bad kids to join.”

  Jace laughs, shaking his head. “Why does that not surprise me? You would have hated me in high school.”

  I glance over at him. His blue eyes are dancing.

  “Somehow I don’t think so. I would have thought you were cute. But you never would have talked to me.”

  He laughs. “You’re probably right. But I might have wanted to.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m serious.”

  The silence between us stretches out but I can’t keep the smile off my face.

  “Well, I would have liked that.”

  Jace starts up the engine again and pulls out of the high school’s parking lot.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “You’ll see.”

  We drive for just a short little while, and then Jace is slowing down and pulling into a strip mall parking lot. He drives around the back, stopping in front of a guard rail that cuts the parking lot off from a littered vacant lot.

  “Where are we?”

  Jace grins and leans in close to me. I get a whiff of his cologne — sexy and earthy and masculine — as he lifts his chin. He points to a small scar on the underside, so small I hadn’t noticed it before.

  “See this? I was trying to ride that guard rail on my skateboard when I was thirteen.”

  I run my fingers lightly along the faint white scar. The air in the car seems to heat up by ten degrees. My fingers linger a long time, before I finally pull them away.

  I hitch one leg up on the seat and angle my knee towards him.

  “Chasing butterflies,” I tell him, pointing to a thin pale scar that runs across my kneecap. “I was six. Tripped over a tree root.”

  “That’s pretty adorable,” Jace says. He reaches his hand out and grazes the scar, just as I did to him. Electricity licks through my veins.

  Jace finally pulls away, clearing his throat, and I put my foot back down on the floor. He pulls the SUV out of the parking lot and we drive for another little while in silence. Eventually the suburb melts away and we’re in a more heavily wooded area, though there’s a paved walking trail that runs through the trees. Jace finally pulls up on a small patch of grass. Through a clearing in the trees, I can see a lake glinting.

  “Come on.” This time he unbuckles his seat belt and opens the door of the car, so I do the same. We walk for a little bit — the paved path doesn’t go this way, but there’s a beaten down foot path that is clearly popular with the locals. We finally come through the trees and then we’re standing on the edge of a beautiful crystal clear lake.

  “This is where we used to come swimming,” he says. Trent and Luke and I used to dare each other to jump off that rock over there.” He gestures towards an overhang on the far side of the lake.

  “And did you?”

  He grins. “Oh yeah. All the time. When you’ve got two brothers, you don’t back down from anything, unless you want to be labeled a pussy for the rest of your life.”

  “Ha. Well, being an only child, I never had to deal with that.”

  “That’s probably why you’re such a good girl. You’ve never had any bad influences.”

  I bite my lip. “I think I might have one now.”

  Jace chuckles, deep and low. “Yeah, I think you might.”

  He reaches for me then, his hands sliding around my waist to pull me close to him. His scent envelops me and I breathe deeply, wanting to remember the way he smells, the way it feels with his arms around me.

  We stand like that for a long time, before Jace finally breaks the silence.

  “I could go for a beer right about now,” he says. “Want to get some lunch?”

  A twenty minute drive later, we’re parking in front of a little pub not too far from downtown Chicago. It’s a quaint little place in the middle of a street lined with art galleries and organic grocery stores and gelato shops. The road itself is narrow, but the sidewalks are wide and there’s lots of foot traffic on the sunny early afternoon.

  The weather-beaten sign over the door says The Pour House. There’s another sign in the dusty window, this time a little black and red one that says For Sale.

  Jace and I go inside and a cheerful older lady behind the bar tells us to sit wherever we like. We choose a table up front, near the window, so we can watch the lively street outside.

  The woman from behind the bar brings our menus, and Jace orders two beers.

  We chat as we sip our drinks, and then we order burgers and fries.

  “This is a nice neighborhood,” I comment.

  He nods. “Yeah, we used to come out here sometimes with our parents. Dad liked this area — he worked in finance, right in the downtown core, and he said coming out here made him feel like he wasn’t in the big city anymore.”

  “I could see that.” The neighborhood has a definite small town vibe about it.

  “This is the kind of place I’ve always wanted to work,” he comments, after our food has arrived. “Veneer is great, and we do get our regulars, but we aren’t anybody’s local, you know?”

  That’s true — Veneer, the bar Jace works at in Manhattan, is mainly surrounded by office towers. No one really lives in that area, unless you count the lawyers and traders who basically live at the office. Everyone else is just passing through.

  “Well,” I say slowly, grinning. “You did see this, right?” I point to the For Sale sign on the window beside us.

  He chuckles. “Yeah. That’s what got me thinking about it. Too bad this place isn’t in New York.”

  “What’s holding you in New York?” I say. “Your family’s all here.”

  A shadow seems to cross over Jace’s face. “That’s true,” he muses. He picks slowly at his fries. “It would be nice to be closer to them.”

  “And you could own your own bar!” I say excitedly. “That would be awesome — you’d be amazing at it.”

  Jace is chewing thoughtfully on his food. He nods. “I’ve always wanted to own my own bar. And I probably have enough saved up for a downpayment on a place like this. Maybe I could even get Trent and Luke to invest.” His expression is turning more excited.

  My mind is already racing. This could be the fresh start I’ve been looking for — I could give up my job at Turner & Crosby, figure out what I really want to do with my life. Hell, maybe I could just work here at the bar with Jace. I waitressed a bit in college, and I could pull a pint with the best of them.

  “And you’re right,” Jace adds, looking down at his plate. “What do I have keeping me in New York? I have a shitty apartment, I’m single, and most of my friends are people I work with. I could just pack up with Steve and leave tomorrow and no one would notice.”

  I swallow thickly, wanting to smack myself. Of course, he’s single. We’re. Not. Really. Engaged. Do I need to get those words tattooed on my forehead? I get so caught up when I’m with Jace that I forget this isn’t real.

  And now I’ve just given him a reason not to even stay in the same city as me. Brilliant, Celia.

  The thought of not being in the same city as him nearly guts me, though, and I have a hard time even swallowing my beer.

  Maybe I should just say something. After all, I can’t be the only one who feels this heat between us? Who feels like it could be something more?

  I take a deep breath. “Jace…”

  Jace must see something in my expression, because he flashes me a grin.

  “Don’t worry — I’ll fly you out for the opening. And I’ll make sure everyone knows it was your idea.”

  His smile is magnetic, forcing the corners of my own mouth up into a smile too. But inside my chest, my heart clenches. I know he’s joking — I mean, what are the odds of him buying a pub on a whim? But his joke is enough to tell me that I don’t factor in to his long-term plans.

  And why should I? We’re different people, from different worlds, and hot sex isn’t enough to make a real relationship, even if it does make a mighty fine fake one.

  “I wou
ldn’t miss it for the world,” I say, forcing myself to smile.

  This is ridiculous. I should just tell him how I feel, right? I’m a grown-ass woman, after all. I just don’t want to make the wedding awkward for him — for both of us, really — if he doesn’t feel the same way.

  But after the wedding…

  I sip my beer, feeling decisive. After the wedding, I’ll tell him everything.

  Now I just have to make it through the next two days.

  20

  Jace

  By the time we get back to the hotel and get showered and changed, and then drive back out to Luke’s place, we’re almost late for the rehearsal. Trent shoots me a glare when he sees us coming up the path, but I just grin and shrug apologetically.

  “Everything’s really starting to come together — it looks beautiful,” Celia says to Hannah, who is standing around, nervously tugging on her sundress. It does look beautiful — there’s a big white arch in the yard now, with huge marble urns that I assume will be filled with flowers tomorrow. There are two huge sections of lawn blocked off, and although there are only a couple of white chairs scattered there now, I figure that’s where the seating will be set up.

  Celia slips into one of the chairs now and I approach Trent.

  “Where do you want me?”

  “At the back for now,” he says. “You’ll be coming down the aisle with Sloane.”

  I glance back and see the blonde girl I’d met the first night I was here. I give her a little wave. She’s chatting with Hannah’s sister Ally.

  “Got it. Me and Sloane — and Ally and Luke? You want Sloane and I to go first or second?”

  “You guys will go first.”

  “Got it.” I head to the back and join Sloane, Ally and Luke. Trent stays up at the front, talking with Hannah and Mom and the Minister and then eventually Hannah joins us at the back. Sloane and Ally both rush to squeeze her hand. Everyone looks equal parts emotional and excited, and I feel another wave of gratitude that Trent invited me to be part of this.