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

by Jamie Knight

  I obeyed him immediately, slowly turning so my back was to him. I was nervous as well as excited since I had no idea what he was going to do. At least until I heard the pump on the shampoo dispenser built into the wall. Positioning the shower head, so it doused my hair, Russ began to gently run the shampoo through it. Starting at the ends and working up to my head. Pulling me close, he tiled my head back, rinsing it all out.

  My hair finished, Russ turned me towards him, taking a handful of liquid soap from the dispenser next to the shampoo.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  Taking me by the nape of the neck to hold my head still, he lathered up my face, caressing his soft, warm hand all over my skin. After he used the direction of the showerhead to wash me clean. Not done yet, he took another two handfuls of soap and switched his attentions to my body, lathering up every inch of me. Russ started with my neck and moved slowly down to my feet, which felt better than I could have ever imagined.

  Working his way back up, up my legs, he slipped a hand between my thighs. Holding my hip to keep me still, he deftly massaged the outside of my pussy until I came, nearly falling over with pleasure. Holding me upright, Russ continued up past my hips and over my belly to my tits.

  Rising off my torso, he went to town on my breasts, nearly bringing me to orgasm from breast play alone. Kissing his way up between my breasts and over my neck, Russ kissed me tenderly, bending slightly at the waist so he could reach.

  His cock was rock-hard and throbbing against my stomach. Unable to help myself, I reached out and took hold, wrapping my small hand as far as it would go around it and started to stroke him. Russ continued to kiss me as I pumped his cock. He reached down and gently squeezed my ass, making me hum with pleasure.

  Just before he came, I dropped to my knees, the fall cushioned by the bathmat, and took his cock in my mouth and sucked him hard until he unloaded. He filled me with his sweet, warm cum, and I loved every minute of it.

  Keeping his cock in my mouth, I spiraled my tongue around the head until he was hard again. Taking him gently by the balls, I started to suck him hard, pumping his shaft while I did so.

  Russ stroked my cheek before running his hands down to my shoulders and pulling me to my feet.

  “Bend over,” he told me.

  As before, I turned so my back was to him and bent forward at the waist, my hands pressed up against the wet tiles, wondering what he was going to do next. To my surprise, he got in his knees behind me and started gently licking my pussy, running his tongue slowly up the length of my tender pink folds. I shuddered deliciously, bracing harder against the wall so I wouldn't collapse.

  As though reading my mind, Russ wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me firm as he started to rotate his tongue on my clit, fingering me with his free hand. Pumping hard, he worked me to an explosive orgasm.

  Not done with me yet, Russ moved his arm from around my waist and held me by the hip as he stroked his cock against the opening of my pussy. When I was ready, he pushed in, easing the bulk of his cock inside me inch by inch until his pelvis pressed up against my ass. Taking me by both hips, he pounded me in my tight little pussy, making me shudder, making me scream, setting me free to enjoy all of the earthly delights.

  Epilogue

  Ann

  The site for my cousin’s wedding was beautiful. It was a classic, old single-spire church which was reputed to have been built from the timber of a single redwood tree. It was a bit of a trick getting to the wedding on time. It was after suppertime by the time we actually left, the kids not helping very much. A problem solved by agreeing to take my car so they could sit together in the back for the seven-some hour drive. On the upside, the kids didn't even notice the time passing, reading until they fell asleep in the back, and Russ and I could take turns with the driving. It was definitely worth it, though.

  The reception was held at Uncle Dave's private country club, with one of the biggest spreads I had ever seen. Slightly embarrassed by my fibs about being engaged, Russ and I mostly hung out at our table on the sidelines, enjoying the food and expensive wedding cake. The kids on their booster seats between us, Drew in a tiny tux and Carly in a lively princess dress.

  “Hi, pumpkin,” my dad said, coming up to the table with my mother.

  “Hey, dad,” trying to avert my gaze.

  “This the lucky fella,” dad asked, turning his attention to Russ.

  “Yeah, about that,” I said, cheeks burning, “turns out I was a bit pre-emptive before thinking we were getting engaged.”

  “She found a ring that I was going to give her,” Russ said, quickly as a cover.

  “Oh, I see!” mom said empathetically.

  “Easy mistake to make,” dad offered.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling better.

  We hadn't shown anyone the staged proposal photos, so it was easier, and much less embarrassing to just tell the truth. Russ and I weren't engaged yet, but we were officially dating, our fake relationship being a mistake of the past.

  “Yeah, about that,” Russ said, pushing back in his chair.

  Before I could say anything, he came around to my side of the table, got down and one knee and took a small black box out of his pocket. He had actually bought a ring after all.

  “Ann Ashley Howell. Will you marry me?” Russ asked, foisting the beautiful ring towards me.

  “Yes,” I almost shouted, throwing my arms around him.

  He kissed me and slid the ring, a blue sapphire in a silver setting, onto my finger and kissed me lovingly.

  “Congratulations, pumpkin!” dad said happily.

  “Let's leave them alone, hey?” mom asked, dragging him away.

  The happy couple set off on their honeymoon, and we started to get ready to head back to L.A., as though he hadn't blessed me enough, Russ had another surprise for me.

  “Ready to go?” Vicky asked, she and Jim taking my parents' place at the table.

  “Go, go where?”

  “I booked us the honeymoon suite at the local hotel,” Russ said.

  “We're here to take the kids for the night,” Jim explained.

  Overly excited, I gave Drew a kiss on the forehead and jumped into Russ’s arms. Within seconds, we were heading to the car and driving to the hotel.

  The suite was beautiful. I wondered how he could afford it but decided not to ask, not wanting to ruin the mood.

  “Bit premature for a honeymoon suite, don't you think?” I asked, bouncing down on the king-sized, four-poster bed.

  “Way I figure it,” Russ said, locking the door, “we can have as many honeymoons as we damn well please.”

  With that, he was upon me, sweet mouth softly kissing my neck, loving hands in my panties, lightly stroking my pussy. Any objections I might have had were lost in the delicious pleasure he was gifting me.

  Giving myself over to Russ entirely, I lay perfectly still as he stripped me naked, my dress coming off easily. With me laying naked and open before him, Russ took off his own clothes, releasing his hard cock, and got onto his knees. He buried his face into my pussy, lapping like it contained the antidote.

  I ran my fingers through his thick, beautiful hair, urging him on.

  Pausing to wet his finger, he dove back in, swirling his tongue hard on my clit, sliding a finger all the way inside me, angling just right so it hit my g-spot with each pass as he deeply fingered me. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt like that, except for the last time Russ had fucked me, of course. I had no idea who had taught Russ his sex skills but would send her a thank you card and flowers if I could.

  Kissing his way up my pelvis, over his belly, between my breasts and up to my mouth, Russ climbed on top of me as he did so. I spread my legs wide, the head of his cock brushing against my hungry little pussy in passing. Rectifying this, Russ took his cock by the base and pressed it up against me, making me gasp.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, please fuck me,” I begged.

  Taking
me at my word, he slid his entire dickhead inside me, causing me to close my eyes and gasp. It really was the most heavenly feeling.

  Lifting himself slightly, so he had more leverage, Russ started to pump, fucking me with a slow, steady rhythm. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him ever closer and kissed him deeply.

  Gradually, he picked up speed, fucking me harder until he was pounding his thick cock, deep in my pussy, his gentle hand on my mouth muffling my screams of ecstasy — something else that I had never done before I met him.

  He took his hand away and kissed me deeply as we came together, me shuddering hard against his warm, fit body. Russ was deep inside my pussy, filling me with his warmth.

  I could definitely get used to this type of life, and I knew now that our little family — that started with a lie — would truly be perfect.

  THE END

  Bad Neighbor

  A Single Mom Enemies to Lovers Fake Fiancé Romance

  Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  Chase

  I had always heard that there are two certainties in life: Death and taxes. The originator of that little chestnut had clearly never been to Los Angeles. If they had, then there is little doubt that traffic jams would also be on the list.

  What made L.A. traffic jams different than those in most of the rest of the country was that in addition to the boiling frustration and impotent honking, temperatures in the late afternoon inside the cars often got to a level that could cook a small dog.

  Sweating it out in the right-hand driver's seat of my restored 1962 Jaguar, I wondered, not for the first time, what it was all for. Surly a cabin in the wilds of Alaska held many charms hitherto undiscovered by most of man.

  As suddenly as it started, it all ended, cars inching forward like a puppy on the shore, soon building up to a full gallop as though the last thirty minutes of stasis and potential heat stroke had all been a mass hallucination.

  I wasn't going to be late back to the office from court. I knew that was what most people told that themselves to give themselves just a slim glimmer of hope, futile as it may be. I had a firm enough grip on the reality of the situation to be well aware that I was already late and short of an intervention by the gods, there was nothing to be done about the situation.

  Not that it really mattered. I worked at what could well be the most decent and humane law office outside the charity sector. The kind of place that gave extended parental leave when needed and kept an international human rights attorney on staff. I was more likely to be asked if I was feeling alright than the target of any disciplinary action.

  Through magic or coincidence, I actually managed to find a spot in front of the red brick building. An occurrence rumored — among those not blessed with access to the limited area of the company's designated portion of the nearby parking garage — to happen about as often as rain in the desert.

  Ignoring the scintillating smells of the on-site cafe I made for the stairs. My office was hot as expected, the warm brick making it feel similar to a kiln. Taking off my tie and jacket, I unbutton the first three buttons on my short-sleeved dress shirt on the way to the window, pulling it out on the way.

  The window latch was one of the old-time designs that required turning two levers, pulling up while the second one was disengaged. Even then, it was only the lower portion that actually pulled up.

  The ancient wooden chair creaked as I sat down, basking in the newly circulating breeze. Getting my wits about me, I sat up, eliciting another creak and eased open the drawer, revealing the brand-new bottle of Glenfiddich 18.

  A little gift to myself for winning my most recent case. Sliding the large, dark bottle out of the box, I eased off the lid and retrieved the tumbler I kept in the same drawer for just such an occasion.

  Just as I poured the caramel-colored liquid, the phone rang.

  “Hello?” I asked, picking up the desk phone, the tumbler still near my lips.

  “Hey, big brother.”

  “What do you want, Whitney?”

  “What's to say I want anything?” Whitney, my little sister asked, feigning injury.

  “You only call me big brother when trying to hit my heartstrings. Forget it, maestro, I'm hip to your jive.”

  “Hip to my jive?” Whitney asked, her laughter barely constrained.

  “That came out wrong.”

  “I should think so, grandpa.”

  “Oh no, grandpa was much richer than I am,” I pointed out, feeling somewhat bad for referencing a man who had passed on a month before. However, Grandpa was an oddity who refused to visit my family towards the end of his life, making him almost a stranger to my snarky sister and me.

  Whitney and I didn't really hate each other. A situation helped no end by the fact that I was almost seven before she was born, so she was never really anything more than my cute baby sister. Such banter was just a game we played.

  “Speaking of which—”

  “Riches or grandpa?” I asked.

  “Both, really. Turns out, he left everything to us.”

  I froze, my hand shaking on the glass. “Everything as in—”

  “His estate. The whole she-bang. We both billionaires, Chase.”

  The glass of scotch slipped out of my hand, crashing to the floor in a spray of liquor and glass. “Damn! You don't say,” I breathed in a state of shock.

  Whitney laughed. “I just did! I'm coming in tomorrow so we can go over the details.”

  “Okay,” I said, still dumbfounded. It wasn't everyday one was just handed billions of dollars. I did okay at the law firm but nothing like that.

  “Oh, and guess who is coming with me.”

  “I can't even fathom,” I said, still reeling.

  “Etta!”

  I could have sworn that my heart actually stopped for a full second. When it started pumping again, the blood was full of new-found adrenaline, something close to the fight or flight instinct.

  “Why?” I asked, my head suddenly aching.

  My sister huffed in disappointment. “She thought it would be nice to see you again. It has been years, after all.”

  I held my tongue, not wanting to curse at my baby sister. It was unlikely she had anything to do with it. Etta, my ex and Whitney’s best friend, could be a cunning bitch, and it was more than likely that she convinced Whitney it would be a good idea for her to come.

  Whitney was far too trusting to realize that Etta was only interested in getting back with me because I was suddenly rich. The desire for a reunion had nothing to do with love — an emotion I wasn't even convinced Etta was capable of.

  Taking a swig right from the bottle, I returned the Glenfiddich to the drawer, not wanting to actually be drunk on the job. I may have been an alcoholic, but I was a damn well functional alcoholic, making my appointment for an after-work drink with the company CEO and lead council all the more ironic.

  I had met Ann Howell in Afghanistan. We were in the same company, not long after Congress allowed women to enter combat roles. Something that couldn't have pleased Ann more basically being career military like she was. Which would explain why she was already a Sergeant when we met despite being five years younger than me.

  When I left the office to meet my boss in the parking lot, the night was moderately cooler, which came as a relief, but I still wasn't about to put my jacket back on. We took my car, Ann's safe enough in her executive spot in the legendary parking garage.

  How we were getting home was anyone's guess, but at least I knew I could leave my car at the bar with little hassle. They knew us there, the owner, who worked shifts when desperate, joking that I was helping put her kids through college.

  “Why so glum, chum?” Ann asked as we took out usual spots at our usual table by the window.

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “You're even more mi
serable than usual,” she observed.

  “Fair enough.”

  She tucked some strands of her black hair behind her ear. “So, spill, who put the salsa in your shorts?”

  “My grandpa,” I admitted.

  “Oh, what did he do?” she asked while sipping on her margarita.

  “He died.”

  “Selfish bastard,” Ann muttered, shaking her head in mock shame.

  “You haven't heard the worst part.”

  She blinked at me. “There’s a worse part?”

  “He left me his estate. Well, have of it. The other half goes to my sister, but still, I really didn't think he would do that. We hardly knew the man. Anyway, now my sister is coming in from San Diego, and my crazy ex has convinced my sister to let her tag along.”

  “Gold digger, is she? Your ex, I mean.”

  “Well established,” I confirmed.

  She nodded and hummed. “Likely wanting to reconcile for money, not love.”

  “My thinking exactly,” I confirmed.

  We sat in silence for a second, both sipping our drinks.

  Ann’s lips curled up into a grin. Her eyes got a crazy look in them. “What if you were already taken? Would that make a difference?”

  “Probably. The only thing is, I'm not,” I pointed out, wondering where in the hell she was going with this.

  “True enough. Through the thing is, you don't have to really be in a relationship. You could get somebody to pretend to be your fiancée. Just long enough to throw your ex off the trail. I've seen it work before.” She looked down at the table in an uncharacteristic display of embarrassment. “I may have done it.”

  I thought about the fact that Ann was recently married and wondered. No, that couldn’t be true. She was joking with me.

  The idea of a fake fiancée seemed crazy, but it did seem like an easy way. The prideful part of me was saying I should just step up to Etta even though I really didn’t want to, mostly because it would hurt Whitney. Ann’s idea would solve all sorts of problems.