Bad Boys Box Set: Complete Too Bad It’s Fake Romance Collection with New Novella

by Jamie Knight

  Fuck him, I decided.

  Though that was just the problem. That was exactly what I wanted to do. Fuck him until one of us passed out. A sentiment which only strengthened when I turned from the espresso machine for maybe the twentieth time that morning, to see Noah himself sitting at one of the tables, looking like he was waiting for me.

  Oh, fuck!

  After barely getting to Java on time, I wasn't about to risk dropping work to go and talk to him, but my lunch break was coming up fast and couldn't arrive fast enough as far as I was concerned.

  It was funny how fast resolve could weaken.

  Chapter Five

  Noah

  The relaxation CD spun in the specially installed player. It had been one of the most difficult things about building my hot rod — a classic 1937 Lincoln Zephyr in ruby red — the electronics were not really compatible with modern stereo wiring. It took some patching to make it work, but in the end, it did.

  I hummed softly along with the music. The sound of my singing voice was known to make most of the dogs on the block start howling in a sort of doggy domino effect.

  Doing as the nice lady on the CD dictated, I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying not to think about what had happened with Emma. I really had been a jerk. I was right about this being the sort of thing escorts tended to do. That was just a fact, but it should have been clear enough that Emma wasn't like that and would have been making the offer for other reasons.

  She was also really hot and believable as my future wife. Dress Emma up nice, and she would be perfect for making Gina green with envy and let her know I had really moved on. There was even a possibility, slim as it was, that Mom might actually approve. Just this very thought warmed the cockles of my heart and made me grin like a mystical feline from Cheshire.

  The CD reached its end, and I was brought back to reality. Popping the CD, I returned it to the case and slid it back onto the specially built shelf.

  Taking one last deep cleansing breath, I got out of the hot rod and headed toward the Howell and Howell building, thinking it unlikely that even the manager of the cafe would have the power to eject me if things happened to go pear-shaped. I wasn't counting on that, though. Not that I was arrogant in my certainty that Emma would give me another chance — just convinced in my optimism that she might.

  There are those who say that a wise man knows when he is beaten. I have never been very wise.

  Java was busy when I got into the cafe. Finding a table by one of the windows, still in view of the counter, I sat down and waited until Emma noticed me. A tactic quite similar to the one I employed to get dates in high school, sitting in the library and waiting for girls to talk to me. I didn't have a single date until I was sixteen. I consoled myself with the fact that most girls were likely dissuaded by the fact that I was more than a foot taller than them, and I was the wealthiest kid at school — both of those things could be really intimidating.

  Emma made me wait. I didn't blame her, also realizing that she was still on shift and likely wouldn't have time until noon or even later, depending on when her lunch break was. I really should have thought things out a bit better.

  “What do you want?” Emma asked finally, sitting down across from me. I eyed her outfit, the checkered shirt unbuttoned enough to give me a big eyeful of her full cleavage.

  “You, to hear me out, that is.” I put my hand across the table and leaned towards her. “Okay, I'm listening,” she said, noticing my gaze and crossing her arms over her beautiful chest. The move was disappointing.

  “Well, first, I want to apologize.”

  “Really?” Her big brown eyes lit up. It made her look delightfully innocent.

  “Yeah, I was far too blunt and feel like I might have offended you.”

  Emma’s lips twisted like she was trying not to smile. “Perceptive.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, wishing I had something to do with my hands. I should have gotten a cup of coffee.

  “You called me a hooker.” One dark, curved eyebrow rose on her forehead. It was a challenge.

  I nodded again, feeling uncharacteristically nervous under her scrutiny. “Indirectly, yes, though that's not what I meant, and my issue or objection was not with you personally so much as the idea of employing a fake fiancée at all. It just felt like a bit of dirty pool if I'm honest.”

  “Then why would you agree to it?” she asked.

  “Desperate measures for a desperate situation.”

  The girl grinned, it was a mix of sheepish and teasing. “You that hard up for a date?”

  Laughter spilled out of me. Emma had a bit of fire in her — not always, but on occasion, she was quite bold. I could respect that.

  Something relaxed between us. I sat back in my chair and put my foot on my knee.

  “That's what my mother seems to think,” I explained. “To the point of inviting my evil ex to the event we would have been going to.”

  “Oh.” Emma’s face lit up. Her anger seemed to be forgotten. Now she looked at me with interest and caring in her deep eyes, almost like an old friend.

  “I know it's dirty and wrong and dishonest,” I continued, suddenly finding the girl across from me very easy to talk to, “but I really don't want to have to get involved with my ex again and my mother is intractable.”

  “That's quite a cunning plan, sir,” she quipped, affecting an English accent.

  “Thank you, Baldrick,” I followed, amused that she seemed to also watch the TV show Blackadder. “Though I doth confess, the machination was not an invention of my own.”

  Emma gasped playfully, dramatically putting a hand to her chest. “Forsooth! What dastardly so and so conceited such as scheme?”

  “Jim.” I could hardly answer, I was laughing so much.

  “Jim Howell? The head lawyer?” Emma asked, sounding shocked.

  She leaned across the table like we were sharing secrets. Her brown, silky hair swung forward into her face, and I had to stop myself from tucking it back behind her ear. That would have been too forward.

  “Yeah, he can be pretty cunning when it comes right down to it.”

  “Um, yeah, I guess.” She shrugged slightly and sat back, much to my disappointment.

  “Look, I still want you to do it if you will consider it. I know we got off on the wrong foot, Emma, but there honestly isn't anyone else I would want to play my fake fiancée more than you.”

  “I-I don't know,” she said, getting up from her chair and nervously brushing her jeans skirt down. She wouldn’t look at me.

  “Right, I embarrassed you, didn't I?”

  “Well —”

  I wasn’t sure what made me do it, but I took a deep breath and started to sing to her. There was something about Emma that just made me feel silly. My song wasn’t even sensible—or in tune. “Emma! Please forgive me, Emma.”

  Her cheeks turned bright red as she put a hand up to cover her face.

  “Come with me, Emma,” I howled. “I can’t do this without you, Emma!”

  As I got louder, people in the café started to stare.

  “Stop,” she giggled, pushing on my chest lightly.

  “Hey, Emma,” I sang. “I’m really sorry, Emma!”

  Jumping towards me, laughing like crazy, Emma slapped her hands over my mouth. “It's okay. Stop torturing yourself, not to mention any nearby dogs,” she begged.

  “Ouch.”

  I pulled one of her hands over my shoulder until she was forced to slide up against my body and look up into my face.

  “It's true,” she pointed out. The blush on her cheeks was a deeper red now, and her voice was a bit breathless.

  “I know.”

  “I appreciate the gesture, though,” she said, pulling away and sitting back down.

  “Will you consider being my date for the event. We don't really have to lie,” I told her, taking my own seat.

  She looked down at the table. “I have a feeling that we do. If your Mom and ex are anything like
you say they are. People do have a tendency to exaggerate.”

  “Not me. I have the opposite problem.”

  “You understate?”

  “No, I speak the truth and am allergic to sugar coatings.”

  “Really?”

  “Metaphorically.”

  “Well, that makes sense. Anyway, yes, I will go to the event with you and pretend to be your fiancée.”

  I slapped the table with happiness. “How about we go to my place? To plot and scheme, I mean. I'll even cook!”

  “You can cook?” she asked excitedly, as though I had just confessed to having telekinetic powers.

  I hesitated. Cooking wasn’t really my forte. If I wanted anything other than scrambled eggs, I usually ordered out, but in my haste, the words had just spilled out. “After a sort, though I can't guarantee the fire brigade won't be involved at some point.” I gave her a wink.

  Emma laughed. “How we go about we go to my place instead? I can make you some of my Holy Crap crapes and Sweet Orgasm chocolate chip cookies. Old family recipe.”

  My eyebrows went up at her words, and I started to feel a little giddy.

  “Sounds great.”

  Chapter Six

  Emma

  Noah followed me to my place. A process made easier by the fact that both of our cars were very distinctive. Rarely have I seen a deep red 30s’ style hot rod in such beautiful condition. The fact that my car was a decommissioned hearse done is what can only be described as TARDIS Blue, no doubt making it easier for Noah to keep track of me even in the downtown traffic.

  My place wasn't fancy, but it was neat. Cleaned and organized with near military precision like I was taught by my mother, who I was beginning to suspect had OCD. It was a walk-up. The building had only two floors, not every apartment in LA being housed in a high-rise, no matter what the rumors might imply. I had a chance at a detached house in Echo Park but, very politely, declined after seining the taped over bullet holes in the kitchen window.

  We both found street parking, engaging our car alarms in unison.

  I could almost feel Noah's eyes on my ass as we went up the stairs. Not that I minded at all. I was honestly flattered that he thought me worthy of looking at.

  I certainly looked at him. Especially when he stood up from the table at the cafe. Even though he was wearing pants, I could tell that he was already semi-hard. What's more, I could tell that he was absolutely huge. I subconsciously licked my lips, thinking about having his huge cock in my mouth, hoping he wouldn't notice when I realized that I was doing it, my lust making me blush.

  It was increasingly clear that I was a dirty girl at heart, and it was really only my rearing that kept me from fully indulging in my true nature. Oddly, realizing that about myself made me feel neither prideful nor ashamed. It simply was what it was.

  My hands were shaking as I unlocked the door to my apartment. I have expected him to come up behind me and grab my ass in both hands. Something about the vibes Noah was giving off. I was slightly disappointed when he didn't, but still, I soldiered on — despite the gentle but distinct ache in my pussy.

  He smelled so good I could barely stand it.

  “The kitchen is over here,” I said, as though this wasn't obvious. The living room, kitchen, and dining room shared a space.

  With Noah standing by and watching carefully, I made the batter for the crapes, telling him what I was doing as I did it. To my slight surprise, he was mostly just quiet and listened. I wasn't sure why, but I expected him to be more arrogant, but instead, he was polite and receptive.

  It was becoming clear I had misjudged him. Likely due to a combination of our flawed first plotting meeting and my overall impression of rich people as a whole. It wasn't really positive, which I mostly figured stemmed from the fact that I didn't have much money growing up. I would sometimes think about what I could have done if I had been born with money, but that usually just made me sad.

  I showed Noah how to roll the crapes, a deceptively complex maneuver for which he seemed to have a natural skill, doing it nearly as fast as I did, with my years of experience.

  Shepherding our delicate creations onto properly prepared plates, in the family tradition, we selected our spots at my small table. Noah rushed over to pull my chair out for me, gently pushing it back in as I sat down. I could feel his warm breath on my neck, sending shivers up my spine. The good kind.

  I'm fairly sure my breath caught. I couldn't hear it because of the pounding of my heart in my ears.

  He moved with such smooth grace I couldn't help but be in awe of him. Noah was a man who was in full command of himself. It was nice to see.

  “I tell ya,” he said, after several bites of crape, “there's nothing better than home cooking.”

  I smiled. “You're just saying that.”

  “No, I just said that, and I meant it too.” He stopped and looked directly at me with his fork waving delicately in the air. “False modesty is not endearing.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Hell no. I'll take honest arrogance any day.”

  I thought about that. As a child, my mother had drilled into me to never boast of my accomplishments. Listening to her had made me unsure about myself. I wanted to be proud of what I could do, and Noah seemed to think the same thing.

  “That's for your honesty.” I set one of my strawberries onto his plate. He immediately scooped it up and popped it between his sexy lips.

  “An here's some more—” He raised his pointer finger— “you could do a lot better than serving coffee at a cafe.”

  I laughed. “Don't I fucking know it. I wanted to be a chef but didn't have the money for school. I had to settle for being a keen amateur. Drifting from place to place, going from job to job, trying to find where I belong in the world.”

  A slight smile settled on his lips, and his blue eyes found mine. “Well, amateur does mean lover.”

  “Does it?” I shivered again.

  “The root word is amo, the Latin for love. Which is also the root of the French amour.”

  “Let me guess. Linguistic major?”

  “Minor. I majored in music.”

  “No shit.”

  “Not singing, obviously.”

  “Obviously,” I agreed.

  “I can compose piano pieces to make to cry, though.”

  “Your welcome to try.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “Invitation.”

  “Accepted.”

  We shook on it and got back to our crapes, Noah managing to eat his slowly and actually savor the taste. I had actually seen people all but inhale them just to experience more of the flavor. It was really my grandma who was to blame. It was her recipe. I was just the messenger. After a sort.

  “You know,” he said out of nowhere.

  “Know, tell me.”

  “Since you're helping me for free, I could do the same for you.”

  I sat back in my chair a bit and looked over at the sexy lawyer across from me. “I would love to know what that means.”

  “I'll be sure to tell you as soon as I figure it out.” He winked.

  When we were finished with the crapes, we made the cookies. Noah, again silently observing, apparently taking in every step. Either that or he was just mesmerized by my tits. Either way, I had his undivided attention, which made me feel really special.

  After eating some of the cookies, I put a portion into a Tupperware contain for Noah to take with him. Taking them happily — they really were addictive — he leaned down, so he could reach and kissed me. Not much, just a quick peck on the cheek, but it was still enough to send a jolt through me.

  I had to brace myself against the door to keep myself upright after closing it behind him. My knees had gone weak, and my pussy was dripping wet.

  Keeping my hand against the wall, I made it into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, yanking down my skirt in panties in one, hard move, and flinging them halfway across the room. My mind was already
fully submerged into a fantasy of what it would be like to sleep with Noah.

  I saw him in my room, across from my bed, looking at me the way he did when I was teaching him to cook and bake. Only now, he was focused on my pussy. I spread it wide to give him a good view, which also felt really good in the world outside my mind.

  After some stretches, I put a finger in and started fucking myself. Noah watched in admiration as I worked my pussy and clit. When I got close to coming, I saw him move slowly towards me, pulling off his shirt as he approached.

  Just as I was on the edge of orgasm, Noah got down on his knees between my legs, tenderly kissing my sensitive pussy lips. I kept moving my hand, again stroking the outside, as I imaged Noah lovingly licking my pussy, mixing light laps on my lips with gentle swirls on my clit.

  I imagined myself putting a hand on the back of his head to urge him on. He picked up speed and licked a little harder but not enough to make it too intense. He seemed to know just what to do to make me feel really good. When he nearly made me cum, Noah made his way from my pussy up to my tits, planting soft, wet kisses on my tingling skin.

  He practically buried his face in my tits, licking and sucking gently, working his way over to my very hard nipples, sucking one and then the other and back again, all the while stroking my pussy lips with his skilled fingers. Much like I was doing in real life.

  He moved up even further, both on my body and into my tight little pussy. Still working his fingers inside me, getting up to three — me following suit in real life — he softly kissed me, slipping his tongue into my mouth. I did my best to meet him, Noah slowing down and giving me time to learn and copy what he was doing.

  Again, he got me to the edge and then backed off, not wanting me to cum yet. It was clear he wanted me to cum with his huge, hard cock deep in my tight little pussy after he popped my cherry.

  Getting into position between my legs, the Noah stroked the warm head of his huge cock against the outside of my pussy, making me gasp in pleasure. Pressing his hand against my belly, Noah eased his cock into my pussy, getting in up to my cherry before stopping, stroking my belly as I got used to the feel of him being inside me. It was both overwhelming and wonderful at the same time. When I was ready, he gave one short, slow thrust, pushing through my cherry, and taking my innocence.