RING ME: A Fake Fiancé Romance

by Flite, Nora

  Tracing two fingers over my slit, I spread my knees wider, pushing my panties to the side, showing off my glistening labia. When I massaged my nub, pleasure rushed through me like an electric shock. I was tighter than a coiled spring—I was going to come fast at this rate and I'd barely touched myself.

  There was motion to my left. I drew in a raspy breath when I saw Conner had slid his cock out and was jerking it furiously. The sight of his unhampered sexual desires sent me into a fervor. My pussy clenched, hugging empty air, imagining his thickness inside of it.

  “Do you want this?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Yes,” I said, and it came out like a whine.

  “Come first. Get your little pussy nice and wet, because I don't think daddy's innocent daughter can handle a dick like this otherwise.”

  I trembled at his filthy words. He was in my head, speaking my language, perfecting my fantasy. Rubbing my clit in small, fast circles, I rode the surge of my impending orgasm. I rubbed, and rubbed, and in the phone's video I saw my pink tongue hanging from my mouth. I looked exactly like an amateur porn star.

  “Do it,” he growled, fisting his shining cock-head. “Come for me, come for the whole fucking world. Now!”

  At his command, I squealed, shaking from my scalp to my toes. The orgasm locked my muscles, keeping my knees spread wide as I fingered my soaked pussy, two fingers sliding in to the knuckle so I had something to squeeze. The buzzing in my skull grew, colors flashing in my eyes. I came so hard I was out of breath.

  I must have closed my eyes—I didn't know until something touched my mouth. I watched, dazed, as Conner wiped saliva from my bottom lip, dragging it to the corner, then over my cheek. “You're so beautiful,” he murmured.

  His compliment startled me. Beautiful isn't what you call someone you're hooking up with. Beautiful is a word meant for poetry. For flowers, and sunsets, and birds in flight.

  Was this part of the scene... or did he mean it?

  Conner grabbed my arms, flipping me onto my belly. I was facing the end of the bed—I could see him behind me in the phone's screen. His naked, inked torso flexed in the light. “Oh god,” I panted, wiggling my hips.

  “Eager?” he teased, thrusting his cock against my panties. Winding his fingers in the ruined material, he ripped them down my thighs, throwing them away. I was exposed—his palms fastened onto my ass-cheeks, spreading me to the brink. “This bratty pussy needs a proper cock in it, I think.”

  “Yes, please, yes!”

  “Look at the camera.”

  I did.

  “Now say, 'I'm a cock-princess.'”

  Sweat and pussy juice slid down my skin. I was roaring hot from the inside out. “I'm a cock-princess,” I repeated, watching my reflection. Conner ran his fingertips down my spine, making me arch my back, thrusting my breasts into the blanket.

  “Say you're my filthy slut.”

  “I'm your filthy slut. Jesus.”

  “I don't think Jesus has much to do with this,” he said, chuckling. Wrapping his hand in my hair, he forced me onto my hands. “Show those perfect tits to the camera, sweetie. Let your daddy's friends know who you really are.”

  “My dad?” I asked, disoriented.

  “The reason I'm here. Fuck, is a hard dick all it takes to get you confused?” he asked.

  “No, that's... ah!” Conner's thumbs peeled my pussy lips apart. He traced my slit, gently caressing my twitching clit. It felt so damn good.

  He bent forward to whisper in my ear. “I was supposed to humiliate you, leave you soaked in cum. But I think I'll keep you for myself. After all,” he said, sinking one finger inside, then another, pumping patiently. “Your family will never take you back after they see this video. I'll keep you and this pretty pussy safe. Does that sound good, little lamb?”

  “Yes,” I sobbed, thrusting onto his hand, eager for another orgasm. “I want that. Let me be yours.”

  “Then it's done. You're mine. Forever.”

  Again, a tiny voice warned me at the base of my brain that this was all a game. We were playing. That was it. But Conner's promise did something to my heart... my soul... that I hadn't gone looking for. The opposite of what I was chasing, in fact.

  I'd wanted dirty fun.

  Freedom from being judged by someone who knew me in real life.

  This was... this was deeper. I was catching feelings for him.

  I heard something tear, and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw Conner spreading a condom over his plump cock. It was exciting to see him slide the latex down to his root. He caught me staring and smirked. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?” I responded coyly.

  Narrowing his eyes, he gave my ass a light spank. When my eyes rolled in my head, he growled. “You can act tough, but this pussy can't lie.” He swiped his fingers through my juices, making me shiver. Holding onto my hips, Conner rocked his cock up and down my crack, lubing it.

  In one smooth thrust he spread me open and entered me from behind. “Oh my god,” I blurted. “Oh—holy fuck, ah! That's so good!” I was rambling, as if my tongue and brain had separated and blissful neurons were the only thing keeping me alive. His shaft filled me to the point of pressure, but not pain—I'd never been so perfectly stuffed.

  Holding me fiercely, he groaned, arching forward, bracing his legs on my hamstrings as he fucked me with powerful, solid impacts. Conner was right—my body was ready for him. Eager. Hungry. My breasts bounced, nipples grazing the bed and sending sparks of delight through my veins. Every time he fucked me, I slammed my ass back to meet him.

  I was no virgin. I'd dated other men, slept with more than one. But never had I been so in sync with anyone. Especially not from the start. Our first time meeting in person, and we knew the push and pull of our rhythm. Was it because we'd talked so openly about sex online before we'd met? Or was it because we'd agreed to obey the rules of our roleplay, freeing us of whatever shackles would have held us down, forcing us to think we had to behave a certain, prudish way? There was no shame here. Only pleasure.

  This was Heaven.

  And I never wanted to leave.

  Heat boiled in my center—my muscles fluttered around his cock as another orgasm stole my mind. I was squealing, my cheek in the blankets, ass held high as Conner kept railing me through the waves of my climax.

  His grip on my soft skin changed. No longer was he holding me close to control my motions, now he was almost clinging to me, like he was hanging on for dear life, some sailor lost at sea who'd found the one, lone rock among the waves.

  “Cherry, I'm...” he grunted, shaking violently enough that I felt the vibrations in my bones. With a final thrust his cock swelled inside of me, the condom doing nothing to keep me from feeling the warmth as he filled it with his seed.

  The raw moment left me reeling. I didn't just forget this was a game we were playing, I forgot basic, common sense. I wanted the condom to be gone—to luxuriate in his cum pouring into my pussy until it dripped out and down my thighs.

  Idiot, I warned myself. The ringing in my ears made my inner voice soft... but every second that passed, it became louder. Reasonable. You don't want a relationship. You definitely don't want a baby.

  How crazy was it that sex with Conner had stripped away my walls?

  “Subway!” I blurted. “Subway, subway.”

  Conner froze on top of me. Then he carefully slid out of my clenching muscles, easing off the bed until he could walk around, turn off the phone, and look at me. “Are you alright, Cherry?”

  “Yes, fine. Better than fine.” Sitting back, I pressed my knees together, arms folding over my body. Conner was scrutinizing me; I gave him a reassuring smile. “Really, I'm good. That was better than I expected it to be.”

  “Thanks,” he said, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. “You stopped us so suddenly I thought I'd done something wrong.”

  “No! No, no.” I waved my hands in front of me. “You didn't do anything wrong.” Except for making me wa
nt you to knock me up. “I was overwhelmed, my body isn't used to... feeling that good.” I blushed through my sideways grin.

  Conner chuckled, tension leaving his shoulders. He patted himself on the back and winked. “Flattery is good for a man's ego. I'm glad you enjoyed it, Cherry.”

  I winced. He'd been calling me Cherry since we'd met, because that was the name I'd given him. Did he suspect it wasn't what was on my birth certificate? For all I knew, he was using a fake name, too. “I should clean up.”

  He motioned at the bathroom door. “Me casa, es su casa.”

  I slid off the bed, painfully aware of every aftershock inside my core. The air was cool on my wet thighs, raising little goosebumps all over my flesh. Slipping into the bathroom, I ran the sink, cleaning myself as fast as possible.

  On a whim, I splashed my face. I was longing to clear my head from the warm fuzzies Conner had infected me with. Lifting my eyes, I stared at my reflection. Water dripped down my chin. My cheeks were pink, flushed from the multiple orgasms and exertion. You're a mess, I told myself, frowning. Searching my expression, it dawned on me what was making me anxious. You like him. You want to see him again.

  But I couldn't.

  I'd promised myself I wouldn't mix my fantasies with real life. Real relationships. I'd tried it before... and my whole world had come unraveled. I'd only just gotten things put back in place so I could function.

  I'd never survive a second rejection.

  When I exited the bathroom, Conner was wearing his pants but nothing else. His eyes were down, fixated on his phone. The blue glow highlighted the hard tendons in his biceps. “You know,” I said, making him look at me. “I was seriously worried you were actually video taping me earlier.”

  “I'd never.” His eyes darkened grimly. “As much as I'd love to have a video of you like that, I'm not the sort of scum who'd do it without permission. That goes beyond roleplay. Trust means everything to me.”

  “Me too.” I thought, again, about my alias. I wanted to tell him the truth. Don't bother. It's pointless. Bending down, I picked up my bra and slipped it on, then draped my dress over my head, smoothing the hem, remembering his fingers clutching it, enduring a hot rush of desire. “Conner, this was... well, it was fucking amazing.”

  “So you said before,” he laughed.

  “Yeah. Well, I also said this was a no strings thing.”

  His expression dimmed, lips becoming a tight line. “Right.”

  “I don't think we should do this again.”

  “Then I did do something wrong.”

  “No!”

  He tucked his phone into his back pocket, lifting his shirt from where it was hanging on the dresser. I watched, fascinated, as he forced it over his thick, muscular chest and stomach. “If you loved this arrangement, and I did nothing wrong, why do you want to end it so soon?”

  “It's complicated.”

  “I don't doubt that.” He walked towards me, and the closer he got, the quicker my pulse became. He sensed it, or maybe he saw it written all over my face—the chemistry between us was explosive. If he wanted to kiss me, I didn't think I'd stop him. And I think he knew it. His attention darted to my mouth, his tongue wetting his lips before he spoke again. “You can't deny our connection. How many people could meet for the first time and click like we did?”

  “Who knows,” I said weakly. My argument was pathetic and we both knew it. “Are you trying to say we're special? The RingMe app connected us because it thought we were compatible. Thank the magical programming for being right.”

  His face was stoic. “Isn't it possible this is fate?”

  I choked on a bitter laugh. “Come on. Fate? Who believes in that?”

  “Things happen for a reason.”

  “Hard work makes stuff happen, not magical fuzzy ethereal fate.”

  Conner shrugged his well-muscled shoulders. “Who knows, I'm just asking you to think it over. Give yourself some time to dwell on what we did tonight before you rush to burn it to ash. Can you give me that much?”

  Deep down, I knew I should say no. No, hell no, this thing was fun but it was a one way road to destruction. I'd wanted to explore my sexual fantasies, that was all. I couldn't do that safely anymore because I was drawn to him in a way that made my heart throb. Damn emotions. Why did they wreck everything?

  “Fine,” I said, before I could stop myself. His eyes twinkled, his demeanor instantly happier. “I'll think it over. But don't be surprised if you don't hear from me again. I'm stubborn, and I listen to my gut.”

  “A dangerous combination,” he said, smirking. Leaning close, he slid some of my hair behind my ear, setting my skin ablaze where he made contact. “For the record, I loved everything we did tonight. I hope we see each other again... and soon.”

  Chapter 4

  The Set Up

  THERE WAS A BOX OF cupcakes on my desk. Each of them was covered in a swirl of white and pink frosting, pure and untouched in their picturesque red box. This was a bad sign.

  I flicked my attention to the pixie-cut brunette on the other side of my desk. “Aubrey, what's wrong?”

  My assistant—and best friend, as complicated as that was—winced. “Nothing. Why do you think something is wrong?”

  “Cupcakes.”

  “Maybe I just wanted to be extra nice, start your Monday right, and—”

  “Cupcakes.”

  Aubrey rubbed her palms from her cheeks down to her shoulders with a groan. “Okay! Fine! I might have forgotten to reschedule a meeting you have with the Gibraldi Team.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You forgot?”

  “Look, I've had a lot on my plate this month! I'm sorry! Here, eat a cupcake, it'll make you feel better.”

  “Aubrey!” Falling into my chair, I covered my eyes. “I don't have time for that meeting, I'm supposed to be having a video call with my mother at the same time.”

  “I'm seriously sorry. I know how your mom can be, but can't you tell her something came up, push the call back half an hour?”

  “I can't. But I'm going to have to, anyway.” I couldn't cancel the Gibraldi meeting, they were my newest potential client, and a big one.

  Rubbing my temples, I stared at the cupcakes, because I didn't want my friend to see how... nervous I was. Not about the work meeting, but about my mother.

  She'll spend our whole talk laying into me about how I never make time for family. Ugh. I really didn't need this today. I was exhausted from spending my weekend tossing and turning, unable to get Conner out of my head. I'd sat down multiple times at my computer, or logged into my phone, tempted to open the RingMe's chat-app and talk.

  I was itching to tell him I needed to see him again.

  I also knew it was insane.

  My indecision had left me drained. Now, this fuck-up with the Gibraldi meeting was going to cost the last of my patience.

  “Maya,” Aubrey said, nudging the cupcakes closer to me. I moved my hands so I could see her genuinely remorseful face. “I'm seriously sorry. I do have some good news, though.”

  “Wonderful. I'll take anything.”

  Perking up, she glanced at the tiny planner in her hands. “Someone called earlier. They said they found your driver's license and wanted to return it. I told them they could drop it off at the front desk, they should be by today.”

  “That's great!” I said, sitting up with a blink. I'd tried to buy alcohol at two liquor stores and a bar, eager to remove Conner from my brain by inebriating force. But no one would sell anything to me. “Let me know when they get here.”

  “Of course.” She offered a tiny smile. “Do you want me to be the one to message your mother?”

  “No. I'll do it. She'll be angrier if I delegate.” With a big, deep breath, I pulled out my phone. “Don't beat yourself up, Aubrey. Things slip through the cracks all the time.”

  “Thanks. I'm still really sorry.”

  “These are vanilla-jubilee cupcakes from Sally's?”

  “The very same
.”

  “Then we'll forget this mess-up happened.” Slipping a cupcake out, I licked the frosting. “I need the power of sugar before I text my mom.”

  She laughed, her ankle-length magenta skirt swishing as she left my office, shutting the door behind her. I thought about closing the shades on my glass walls that let me see the main room of my marketing company, then decided not to. It wasn't like my mom was going to make me cry—I hoped.

  Deep breath, I reminded myself. My phone's screen—a photo of my goldfish that I always found calming—stared at me. I swiped, planning to message my mother. Before I did, I noticed a little red dot next to the RingMe app. A message? My heart poked my ribs. Is it from Conner?

  He hadn't reached out to me since our tryst in the hotel. I didn't know if he was respecting my wishes to wait for my decision to stay or go, or if he'd been less interested in seeing me again than I'd thought.

  Biting the edge of my lip, I hovered my thumb over the text bubble with my mother's contact info. Again, my heart thrummed. Dammit. My thumb swerved; I opened RingMe.

  Hunching over my phone, I stared at my inbox. The small, circular photo of Conner's blue, haunting eyes and half-smile sent my stomach into a nose dive. He had messaged me! The red dot swelled and shrank on repeat. It was like a living, breathing thing that cried out for my attention.

  I'd gone this far, how could I resist?

  Conner: You there?

  Conner: You forgot something at the hotel.

  Conner: Don't know if you want it back.

  My eyebrows furrowed tight. I'd forgotten something? I started to type a response.

  Me: What did I

  I stopped myself. There was only one thing he could be talking about—I burned crimson as I remembered leaving my panties on the rug, calling them a lost cause. Clearing my throat, I deleted my message and re-typed.

  Me: Keep my panties as a souvenir.

  I hesitated before hitting the send button. My heart floated into my throat. I was burning up, sweltering in spite of the central air in my office. Did I dare flirt with him again after telling myself it was time to end things?