Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance

by Jamie Knight

  “No one is unless they’re Benjamin Button. It is a biological impossibility.”

  “As will having kids be if we wait too long. Granted, you have more time than I do. The clock is tickin’, honey. Isn’t your mom missing you?”

  “I don’t know, I haven’t asked.”

  “Darcy, be serious. I know you have issues with your dad, but you shouldn’t punish your mom because you don’t want to live in his shadow. If anyone would understand that, it’s her. She’s been doing it for years.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “Have you been taking guilt lessons from my mom?”

  “Nope, I’m just a great lawyer. So, you’ll go to the garden party?”

  “Not exactly with bells on, but yeah, I guess.”

  The hour of liberation upon us, Nicole let me go a few minutes early, so I could get home to get ready before my date.

  ****

  I was out of my work clothes in record time. I stood in front of my full-length mirror in nothing but my lingerie and studied my body. Not bad, really. Still young and fairly taut. A few blemishes here and there, but blemishes just come from life. The scars on my legs didn’t look all the bad. Maybe I was the only one who really noticed.

  Scouring my closet for something to wear was quite an expedition. I needed to look sexy but not too eager. I wasn’t going to blow him in the parking lot but wouldn’t say no if he wanted to take things further later.

  I settled on a pretty blue dress I had made last year using an original pattern from the 1950s. It was flirty and fun and perfect for our date.

  Changing into a fresh set of pink silk underwear, I stepped into the dress, which was a bit more of a production than I remembered. The jury was still out on my legs, but the dress did great things for my tits.

  I would probably scream if I saw a pair of high heels again, after having worn them for most of the day, so they were out. The only other shoes I had that would work were a pair of cherry red Chuck Taylors. I’d only worn them a couple of times, so they still looked new. Bold and uncomplicated, cool and young. I was once told by a self-appointed dictator of style that the only color of Chucks someone over 30 could wear was white. I wasn’t 30 yet, and anyway, stuff that noise.

  My outfit was far from orthodox, but I couldn’t deny I looked good. I was a combination of the girl I was and the woman I was becoming, still feeling very stuck in the middle. Always very me, which was exactly what I wanted to be, even if I was still trying to figure out who that was.

  The butterflies in my belly were a flutter as I parked. It was my first date in what felt like forever, and I was in no way convinced I would know what to do. There were definite conventions around courtship. The only problem was they kept changing.

  Sean already knew about my family and my history as a socialite, so there wasn’t really anything to hide from him. He had been similarly candid about his past. Particularly about his father. All of our skeletons were out of the closet and doing parades. There was nothing to hide, and it felt freeing. We could both just be ourselves and see if we liked who the other was. The real fear was rooted in the answer, which could still be no.

  I saw him immediately. Dressed in a plain black suit and white shirt with no tie. He’d made even the green tux at the wedding look good but looked even better in his own clothes. Even the jeans and sweater he’d worn last night. He just couldn’t help but look classy.

  He stood to meet me, looking almost as nervous as I felt, still putting a hand on my hip as we kissed in greeting. Not a casual peck on the cheek either. It was a full-on smooch on the mouth, tender and intimate but also with a level of chaste innocence appropriate to the surroundings. People were trying to eat, after all.

  The change was immediate, all tension and nervousness melting away to a familiar comfort like we’d had at the wedding. An unspoken understanding drawing us together in our desire for each other. Not just on a physical level, but in all ways. I’d never put much stock in the notion of ‘soulmates,’ but if biofeedback and empathic reading were real, I supposed anything was possible. There was ample anecdotal evidence for me to draw on. Most of it, from my own experience, but it still counted. I seemed to remember Maggie telling me about a similar reaction to Gavin.

  “How long are you here?” I asked, our fingers laced beneath the table.

  “Three weeks. Why come all this way and not make the most of it? But I’ve been here for a few days already.” He looked almost apologetic

  “Wow! Can’t believe you got that much time off. Will everything be okay at work?”

  “Oh yeah, Dunc and my brother Jim can handle things.”

  “Dunc?”

  “Duncan, my business partner. The one who got food poisoning. I have complete confidence in both him and my brother. There are also advantages to being my own boss, despite some of the stresses.”

  No sooner had he mentioned stress than the whole pack of Ashtons came in through the door. I’d chosen the restaurant on purpose because I didn’t think they would ever go there, and I just wanted to have a nice time with Sean. They must have decided to slum it. Not a term I would use for a mid-level bar and grill, but certainly one they would. It could be hard to keep a hold on perspective when one made $50 million a year like Harry did. No doubt the other reason why daddy wanted me to marry him. So Harry could ‘take care’ of me

  “What’s wrong?” Sean asked, immediately sensing my discomfort.

  “The Ashtons are here.”

  “As in Harry Ashton?”

  “Darcy!” Harry called.

  I wanted to hide under the table, but it was too late. He’d already seen me, and there was no chance of escape. If it had just been Harry, it would have been better. At least I could have handled it, but he was there with his parents. It seemed a bit odd, him being in his early 40s and all, but it was kind of nice they still had a good relationship. Even if his mother did make me question what I’d always been taught about the existence of a benevolent God. As far as I could tell, if there was a God, Mrs. Ashton worked for the other side.

  “Hello, Mr. Ashton, Mrs. Ashton. Harry.”

  To his credit, Harry didn’t look comfortable either. His mother had a tendency to take over any room she was in, often to the chagrin of anyone she was with.

  It wasn’t even that I didn’t like him personally. He was a bit of a jumped-up snob, but I knew as well as anyone that had more to do with his upbringing than anything else. He was also handsome and incredibly talented. His movies were some of the best I’d ever seen. My main issue was our meeting’s circumstances and the forced aspect of our coupling, specifically joining my family dynasty and fortune with his like we were the bloody Borgias. Harry was also old enough to be my father, which put a bit of a dampener on things.

  “We just saw you sitting all alone in this dark corner and thought we should come over and say hi,” Harry explained.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Very droll, dear,” Mrs. Ashton said. “We also wanted to know if you were planning on being at the garden party. It is sure to be the social event of the summer, and a little birdie tells me there is going to be a special announcement.”

  The world started to spin. Very few things that ‘special announcement’ could be, even though I didn’t want to believe that daddy could stoop so low to get what he wanted. Then I remembered he’d been stooping to get what he wanted for most of his career.

  My lips stretched into an unconvincing smile. “We wouldn’t miss it, would we?” I said, glancing at Sean. He reached for my hand, making clear our connection so that even Mrs. Ashton had to take notice. My hero.

  “We wouldn’t miss the social event of the summer for all the Guinness in Ireland.”

  “O-oh, I’m sorry, we didn’t see you there,” Mrs. Ashton sputtered, “and you are?”

  “Sean MacBride,” he said, shaking each of their hands vigorously. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m also looking forward to meeting Mr. and Mrs. Matthe
ws at the party, should be a pip.”

  A dark look crossed Harry’s usually handsome face. I didn’t think he wanted to get married much more than I did. That didn’t mean he was happy with another guy moving in on what he considered his territory. Particularly one who was obviously beneath him on the socio-economic scale. That was an injustice his lifelong training as a self-centered prick could not let stand.

  “Oh, come on, you can’t be serious about this mi—”

  “Be very careful what you say next,” Sean warned in a tone that would make Conor McGregor wet himself.

  “It’s just ridiculous is all,” Harry amended, deflating like a day-old helium balloon.

  “I-I’m sure it is all just a misunderstanding. It will all be cleared up on Saturday,” Mrs. Ashton said, ushering her clan out of the restaurant at warp speed.

  Chapter Twelve - Sean

  The Nissan Versa still looked to be in good nick, despite being about ten years old. Darcy didn’t seem too fusty, but certainly, someone who took care of her things. We stepped inside, but she didn’t immediately put the key in the ignition.

  “So, those were the notorious Ashtons,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Yeah.”

  “You weren’t exaggerating.”

  “Nope, daddy is insistent I marry Harry Ashton. Otherwise, I won’t be his daughter anymore. I figured I’d rather have that and be allowed to be myself than kowtow to his demands. He thinks he has the right to control people. Particularly me. He seems to think I’m his little dress-up doll.”

  “I suppose one of the advantages of not being trust fund babies is that our dad doesn’t have anything to hold over us. There’s no way to stop us from doing what we want when we want.”

  “My trust fund will be clipped, shredded, and burned unless I fall in line with his dictates and marry a man closer to his age than mine, who is a class A snob to boot. It’s Harry’s parents who are mostly the problem, and I try to remember that, but no way am I going to marry him no matter what they threaten me with.”

  “There’s the spirit. It’s impressive that you’re so willing to get by without your dad. I’ve never been in a position to choose, but I can see how it would be difficult. To give all that up to do what you love and live how you want.”

  “It also helped me pay for a pretty nice lifestyle, but I’m much happier without all the pressure to dress and look a certain way.” She turned on the car and backed out of the parking spot. “Would you like to come back to my place? I don’t want to be on my own.”

  I wanted to punch the air in victory, but I didn’t. Instead, I said, “There’s nothing I want more.”

  ****

  The energy was palpable, zapping through me when she took my hand to lead me through the door of her studio apartment. Despite the small size, it was very nicely decorated, Darcy’s talent for creative design rivaling Maggie’s.

  “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. Would you like a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  “Beer? Wine?”

  “Beer if you have one.”

  I could hardly keep my eyes off her as she went to the fridge, the cut of the dress doing wonderful things for her already gorgeous figure. I couldn’t help but imagine what she looked like beneath it and wondered when I would get to find out. Especially when she bent over, the hem of the dress riding enticingly up her sexy thighs, stopping just below her beautiful ass. Her legs were as great as her ass and her tits. I thought I could detect a cluster of small scars on them, which spoke of an adventurous childhood. Few were the people I knew who got through life unmarked and unscathed, including my own family.

  I looked away as soon as she turned, the schoolboy in me blushing furiously. She probably wouldn’t mind me looking. Not if the nature and quality of our kisses were anything to go by, but I couldn’t help but feel a little pervy, ogling her in secret.

  Darcy curled up on the couch with a beer for me and a can of pale ale for her, popping both. As though starring in a commercial, we both took a drink at the same time, ending off with a happy ‘ahhh’ sound I wasn’t sure humans actually made in real life.

  A little dribble of beer trickled down her chin. I leaped in heroically to stop its progress with my thumb. Wiping away the dribble, I gave her my thumb to suck, which she did with some enthusiasm, the connection between us stronger than it had ever been. We both knew what was going to happen next, and there was no point in trying to ignore or deny it.

  Darcy released my thumb, albeit reluctantly, and turned her back to me, her lustful look beforehand clarifying what she wished me to do.

  Seizing the bottom of the well-placed zipper, I eased the little metal tab down toward the small of her back. Darcy held her hair out of the way as I did so.

  When I could unzip no more, I pushed the two sides of her dress down gently, bringing the top of the top down to her waist. Darcy raised slightly to wiggle it down to her knees and then along her legs, finally getting it over her feet. I gently pushed her down. She stretched out her legs, and I untied and removed each of her sneakers, followed by her socks.

  When she was down to her pretty pink underwear, I undid her bra, managing it in one go, not looking at her tits just then, and eased her soft, silk panties down the same route her dress had followed, joining it, along with her bra and shoes on the floor by the coffee table, where our drinks ended up.

  In her most vulnerable state, not a single thing covering her, Darcy turned and leaned her back up against the arm. She opened her legs, showing me her full glory.

  “I’ve wanted you from the second I saw you,” she admitted, her voice raspy, heavy with lust.

  “You have no idea,” I said.

  I fell into her embrace, licking and kissing the softest part of her lovely neck as she eased off my jacket, beginning her own pile of discarded clothes.

  She started on my shirt, working her way down button by button as I nibbled her soft skin, making her hum with pleasure. Caressing her hands down my bare chest and belly, she reached my belt. With only a bit of difficulty, she got my belt buckle to unfasten and my pants open, easing the zipper slowly down.

  Her hand brushed against my hard cock through my boxers, making me even more excited. My pants and boxers soon joined my jacket and shirt on the hardwood floor. Darcy’s soft, warm hand stroked my throbbing cock as I worked her nipples lightly between my fingers while softly necking her. I had died and entered heaven.

  She made the first move. Her intentions clear. She used her free hand to ease me back against the arm on my side of the couch, getting me into much the same position she had been when I first got her naked. All while never relinquishing her hold on my cock. I figured she’d waited long enough and deserved to have it as long as she wanted.

  Tenderly stroking me, Darcy blazed a trail of soft, warm kisses, starting at my neck and then progressing downwards. Turning her head slightly, she managed to lick all the way down my cock from the head, which she had already swirled her tongue around, and down to my balls.

  Without hesitation, she took one of the heavy sacs into her mouth, giving it a deep suck before switching over to the other, all the while still lovingly stroking my cock. I worried I might cum right then and there but managed to hold back when she ran her tongue back up toward the head, with the clear intention of taking me deep.

  My eyes rolled to the back of my head. The sensations racing through me were unlike anything I’d ever felt before. On instinct, I put my hand on her shoulder. Darcy immediately moved it and placed it on her head. Not sure what else to do, I stroked her hair as she sucked me to a new state of consciousness, starting to go faster, deeper, and harder with every successive suck.

  While I would have loved the most transcendental blowjob I’d ever had to last a lot longer, days if possible, Darcy was working so hard to gift me such magnificent pleasure it only seemed right that I cum. On a growl, I shot my load into her welcoming mouth.

  As classy as she was lovely, Darcy
swallowed my entire load, nearly vibrating with sheer delight.

  “You taste delicious,” she said, moving towards my mouth.

  We came together as one, our lips and tongues delighted to meet. The fire between us rising once more. I could feel the warmth on her skin, her cheeks beginning to flush with intensity.

  As she held fast to my cock, refusing to let go, I put a hand between her legs, finally feeling the tender warmth of her pussy.

  The stalemate ended when she made me cum for a second time, raising her hand to her mouth to clean off the cum. As soon as she was finished, I went in for a kiss, using the new leverage to get her on her back.

  Relocated to the farthest end of the sofa, I smothered her with kisses, feeling her hot skin under my lips, my hand never leaving her soaked and swollen pussy. Moving down her neck, I progressed to her gorgeous tits, finally able to give them some tender loving care.

  I thought Darcy might orgasm from the breast play alone, going by some of the sounds she made. Each one only increasing my desire for her.

  With her nipples still glistening in the aftermath of my affections, I moved distinctly southwards, over her belly and across her pelvis, only relinquishing my hold on her pussy, so I could smother it in fast, tender kisses, making her moan and arch her back as she ran her fingers through my hair.

  “Fuck!” she moaned as I caressed my tongue across her tender pussy.

  Opening her legs even wider, she gently shifted her hips, pushing her cunt even harder against my tongue as I pleasured her. Making sure to get her nice and relaxed before going for her clit, which nearly made her scream with pure joy. I didn’t understand guys who didn’t like to go down on girls. Not only was it awesome, but it was also essential, helping them get relaxed, making sex a lot easier and more pleasurable for both parties.

  Darcy came hard, her entire body shaking as she hit her orgasmic high, her system no doubt flooded with all manner of pleasure hormones, making it difficult to keep her mind clear.