Charade (A Fake Fiancée Romance) (Pretense and Promises Book 1)

by Jade C. Jamison

  Except she had other things on her mind. She practically tackled him, wrapping her arms around his neck and forcing him to kiss her with singular passion. These two might not really be the ideal couple, but they were compatible enough in bed, and he couldn’t wait to feel her again.

  And now, at least, there was no question in his mind as to her feelings. Certainly, she might be hate-fucking him—he knew that—but he suspected there was something else going on there as well, and he figured it was along the lines of what he’d been thinking, too.

  But that was imagination, trying to fill in blanks that didn’t exist, attempting to assign emotion where none existed. Erica had made no secret of the fact that she despised Brock and everything his family stood for—money, wealth, and even the fact that he himself defended criminals. Maybe, though, she was able to work out her anger and frustration this way, making it a win-win—and when they told the news of a broken engagement to his family, that would be the end of any tryst they might be tempted to partake in.

  For now, though, it was okay—because they were playing the roles they’d agreed upon when they’d first decided to go through with this ruse.

  God…she tasted so sweet. He’d never suckled a woman’s lips quite as supple or delectable as hers. And what he loved about her lips were that they were both soft and pliable yet firm and demanding at the same time. When they ended the second kiss, he’d swear she was already breathless—a hell of a turn on for a guy like Brock—and although he loved the fast pace of their foreplay, he wanted to slow it down…because he knew somehow that this was going to be the last time. He’d never get another chance to touch her sweet flesh. So as their kiss brought them up for air, caused them to pause a bit and put a few hair widths between their lips, he sucked on her bottom one, pulling it into his mouth to his teeth before running his tongue along it. Her eyelids fluttered then, as if she couldn’t take any more, but he had so much more to do to her.

  He deepened the next kiss then, his tongue pressing firmly against hers, not letting her gasp for air but demanding all her attention, all her focus, and he knew he had it when the fingers in his hair began to pull as if she could no longer control the response of her muscles.

  Without thinking clearly, his hand that had been cupping her hipbone pushed her, nearly slamming her into the wall. It was then that he heard her breath as if he’d winded her, but he looked in her eyes and saw that she demanded so much more of him, much like a succubus ready to suck his soul dry. She groaned as he moved his hand up underneath her sweater with rough force, practically begging him to take her. Her pupils were wide, as if she were frightened, but there wasn’t a scared bone in her body. She was ready to take him.

  Pulling her sweater up to her neck, he yanked her bra down with his other hand. Yes, he should be gentle, but he wanted to send the message that, for the moment, at any rate, she was his. There would be no more thinking about money or his family, cases or the morality of defending someone, winter or summer, engagement or break up. There was only now and the whole of their pleasure, and he was going to take what was his, even if it was only for the night.

  So even though the bra clung to her frame, tight and ungiving, her breast still peeked out above it and he pulled her areola into his mouth, its rigid bumpy flesh responding to his tongue. The nipple, firm and erect, seemed to wilt at his touch, and Erica gasped, her fingers again gripping his hair. He let go of her sweater and snuck his thumb up underneath the elastic of her bra to play with the other nipple and it was then that she thrust forward, as if he could not take her breast far enough into his mouth. Another moan, followed by a whispered “Oh, Brock,” caused his cock to stand up and take note.

  He slid his mouth off her breast, making a trail to her cleavage while he growled, “God, my name on your lips sounds so damn sexy.”

  Her breathless reply came as she shoved against him. “Shut up.”

  He kneaded her nipple between thumb and forefinger and replied, “Truth hurts?”

  “Just shut up and fuck me, Brock.”

  “No…not that simple this time. I am going to taste of your sweet nectar just one time, my love.”

  Erica burst into laughter then, but it sounded desperate, as if she’d been backed into a corner. “Nectar? Is that the best you can come up with?”

  He scooped her up into his arms, the light thing that she was, and looked straight into her eyes. “Just tell me if the bedroom’s this way.”

  She moved her head just slightly so that she could see behind her. “Yes. That doorway right there.”

  He was going to say something else and figured he sounded far more domineering when he kept his mouth shut—and kept her guessing what was coming next. Once inside the room, he practically tossed her on the bed, her chest heaving. He knew her all too well—she was on the verge of demanding he leave, but that wasn’t an option. So he leaned over her quickly and captured her mouth with another kiss. Mumbling against her lips, he said, indicating her bra and sweater, “Take these damn things off.”

  While she was complying, he stood up and pulled first his shirt off, followed by shoes and pants. His cock strained against his underwear, especially when he looked down and saw her lovely, creamy white flesh up against her burgundy bedspread. Pulling his underwear down, he let her gaze upon his erection, pleased at her reaction, and he began to stroke it slowly up and down. “This is for you, princess. But I want to take you to heaven before I pound you with this.”

  Typically stubborn and disobedient, something he secretly loved, instead of lying back, she sat up and licked the precum off the tip of his cock. Then it was his turn to let out a moan. “Oh, fuck, Erica.” But she pulled it into her mouth, just the tip, rubbing the underside with her tongue, making his heart beat faster. “Mmm.” He could have let her mouth bring him to climax after sucking him off, but that wasn’t what he’d wanted to do. So he moved backwards, sliding his cock out of her mouth, despite the suction she was using to keep him hitting the back of her throat. Then he touched the bottom of her chin with his fingertips. “Come here.”

  Fluttering her eyelashes, she obeyed, sitting up on her knees, her pink nipples pert and at attention. He’d had one goal when he’d brought her into her bedroom, and he’d thus far failed at it, thanks to her distraction. After another magical kiss, he eased her onto her back and began kissing a trail down the middle of her body. As his tongue created a slick path between her breasts, he brushed one rigid nipple with his fingertips, as if assuring himself that she was still primed and ready. He began kissing her flat tummy on his way down her torso, drawing in little nips of her flesh, meant to tease and prolong the desire, hoping to make for an explosive orgasm later. He could sense that, just underneath the surface, she was on the verge of writhing, which meant he was doing his job well.

  Soon, he was between her legs, his face even with the area he intended to give his full attention to. He could see her pussy glistening under the muted light of her room, signaling to him that she was definitely ready for his touch.

  But he wanted to test it, so he teased her slit with a light, feathery stroke of his tongue.

  Ah, yes, the way she moaned and the tenseness in her thighs told him he could do no wrong here. But enough playing. He wanted to make her scream his name—but, unlike the first time they’d engaged in this behavior, he wanted it to be completely voluntary with no coercion. And, just as he’d suspected, she tasted sweet as honey. Her engorged clit throbbed against his tongue as he flicked and rubbed it with the strongest muscle in his body. Soon enough, he’d enter her and feel complete, but for the moment, it was all about her.

  After a few minutes, he teased a finger inside her while his tongue continued playing with her clit, and he could tell by the way her thighs trembled and the way she began to pant that she was easing upon the edge of climax. He slowed his strokes then, hoping to draw it out longer, thereby making it even more explosive. It was then that he heard what sounded almost like a whimper in between the sha
rp breaths she was sucking into her lungs, as if she couldn’t take much more.

  He bore down with his tongue then, swirling it in a way that had driven women before her crazy. Her thighs began to quake rhythmically then, her knees grinding against his shoulders as he brought her home, one finger massaging that magical spot inside while his tongue relentlessly flicked her clit until she began crying out.

  And, ah…there it was: music to his ears. “Oh, God, Brock. Oh, God. Ohhhhhhh, God…”

  He’d take it. She’d said his name once and, if she put him on a par with a deity, even better.

  But no resting on his laurels. There was no stopping, not until she was completely satisfied. When her thighs slowed in their rhythmic quivering, he suckled the delicate firm flesh there before kissing his way back up her torso. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet, Erica.”

  God, she was beautiful. Her mahogany eyes were half open, her body still tempting in its youthful pertness, desire still coming off her in waves. He knew now that even though he’d brought her to climax once, there was no telling how many times she had in her.

  He wanted to find out.

  He almost asked if she was ready for him to fill her, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was. He picked his jeans up off the floor and located his wallet, yanking a condom out of the center fold, grateful that he’d prepared for this moment. By the time he had his cock sheathed, Erica was practically pulling on him. Part of him wanted to flip her over and fuck her like a dog, letting her pussy grip his cock from that angle, but that would wait for another time.

  What the fuck was he thinking? There would be no next time.

  But his damn brains were gone. He slid his cock inside her, getting lost in that feeling of home, of warmth, of being where he belonged. And as her voice whispered his name once more before her pussy gripped his cock like she’d never let go, he fell the rest of the way to his complete and utter doom.

  He was hers, now and forever.

  Chapter Fifteen

  UP UNTIL THIS very moment, Brock had thought the moments after sex were highly overrated. He wasn’t into snuggling or cuddling or talking. Fuck that. It made women grow fonder and more apt to attachment. Instead, he’d always enjoyed the endorphin rush and often gave in to sleep.

  Cuddling was for pussies.

  But here he was, nestling Erica up against his chest and loving every fucking second of it. She was warm and soft and her room smelled like fresh fruit and flowers.

  He could have slept there a week.

  Lying to himself, he believed that every prolonged moment made it all the harder to leave, to want to leave. Every extra second he spent holding her made her more likely to become attached to him…and vice versa. No matter how amazing the sex was or how perfect this moment felt, he needed to get his ass out of there. Now.

  She was not, nor would she ever be, his fiancée.

  She was not his girlfriend.

  He was not in love with her. And, even if he was, that wasn’t part of the deal.

  It was time to get the fuck out of there—and it was time to strap on a shield. He hadn’t been guarding that which hadn’t seemed to need protection, namely, his heart, and now it was too late. The best he could do would be to recover whatever little bit of himself he had left, hang onto it with all he had, and do his damnedest to come out unscathed.

  That meant that Brock the asshole wasn’t coming out to play. No…he was here to stay.

  It was the only way.

  * * *

  Erica lay in her empty bed, unable to drift off to sleep. Two hardcore orgasms should have primed her for sweet nothingness, but Brock had left suddenly. At first, it had seemed as though he’d feathered his nest and planned to stay till morning but then, without warning, he said he had to leave, muttering something about preparing for court tomorrow as he pulled his shirt over his head.

  Ah, it was just as well. She’d grown too used to his presence and, during their lovemaking, had all but forgotten the fiancé façade was just their grownup version of playing house. He was no more her betrothed than she was the next in line to run Ford & Associates. It just wasn’t meant to be…not in the cards.

  And, for some reason, although there were no promises broken nor vows failed, it disturbed her sleep all night long, and no amount of caffeine from Starbucks could touch the fatigue she felt the next day…but at least the level of tiredness matched the ache in her heart. Warranted or not, it saddened her that playtime with Brock was nearing its end, because he’d turned out to be the best boyfriend she could have ever wished for—even with all the things about himself that drove her crazy.

  Her tune changed at work the next day, though. She’d seen him for all of five minutes before he rushed off to court, and he told her he’d look over any motions she prepared throughout the day when he got back. But he returned by eleven that morning, pissed off because the trial had been continued, something about the state needing to examine new evidence that would, of course, be shared with the defense should they choose to use it.

  He was in a grouchy mood, though, sour and inconsolable, and Erica wondered if he was always this churlish when court didn’t go his way. If so, maybe she needed to rethink the way her heart was swelling in her chest at the sight of this man.

  But she’d been saying that over the past few days, especially since last night, trying to remind herself how stupid it was to let herself fall in love, to become attached to a man she could never have.

  When she called Harriet, his secretary told her to wait until after lunch to see him. Usually, his crankiness wore off after a good meal. “Like a typical man,” she said. Then, whispering, she added, “Just like my husband.”

  Erica didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

  But she waited and, when she came to Brock’s office at one, Harriet told her he was expecting her. She entered the office and Brock was on speaker phone, having a war of words with a man she assumed was another attorney. Brock was pacing back and forth, occasionally barking toward the phone, but he waved her in and indicated that she needed to be quiet until he was done.

  “When do I get copies of this new stuff?” he growled.

  “I told you, Ford. We need to assess the validity first.”

  “And we couldn’t go without it?”

  There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. “Not if it’s as important and it seems like it might be. Look…you know I’d give you the same courtesy.”

  Brock let out a brief harrumph before speaking. “I’m sure you would. See you in court.” He pressed a button on his phone, hanging up, before asking, “And what can I do for you?”

  Hmm. No sign of the warm man she’d engaged with in things both naughty and nice the night before. It was as if he’d switched bodies with an alien. Actually, this was more likely his usual self. Heavily sexed must have brought out the sweet in him.

  The sex had been amazing…but obviously not worth it. She could not allow herself to fall in love with a Jekyll and Hyde.

  Too late.

  “I wondered if you could go over this motion for me? I think I’ve included everything I need but—”

  He snatched the document out of her hands. It took everything she had to refrain from asking, Rude much? Turning one page after another, glancing quickly through the salient points, he said, “This is fine.” Handing it back to her, he asked, “Where are the others?”

  “What others?”

  “The other motions for the other cases.”

  “I haven’t actually written the mo—”

  “Time is money, Larson,” he barked. “A paralegal could have all those motions typed up, ready for me to sign by now. What’s the hold up?”

  Her jaw wanted to hit the floor from shock. And then she felt a brief flash of hurt, but it helped her realize that, after all, she only had a business arrangement with Brock, nothing more. “You’re supposed to be training me, you big jerk.” She stomped toward the door. “But I g
uess I’ll find a competent paralegal to help instead.” Testing her theory, she added, “I’m pretty sure there are a couple of hot ones down on the first floor.” And she left, firmly closing the door behind her, resisting the urge to slam it like she would have as a teenager.

  Before actually storming off, she calmly marched back to the door and opened it, sliding her body in and shutting the door one more time, quietly enough that she hoped Harriet thought she was still in the office. With a quick clip, she made her way to the front of his desk and said, so calmly it was eerie, “I’m almost out of your hair, okay? This ride’s almost done. If your dad officially calls it quit by Christmas, then you don’t have much longer. I’d only ask that you treat me with a little respect while I’m still playing your fiancée.” His eyes were wide but she saw that fucking amused twinkle in them. God, she wanted to slap his face so hard the twinkle wouldn’t reappear till he was forty.

  Shrugging, he said with no emotion, “Fine.”

  Erica couldn’t help the tiny snort that communicated her disbelief and displeasure. “Fine,” she repeated and made her way back across the room.

  Yes, fine. That was good enough.

  * * *

  Thank goodness for Camilla. No matter how busy her friend was, she always had time to chat. Over the phone, her voice was high pitched but quiet enough that Erica could tell she was trying to keep the conversation from Gary’s ears. “I can’t believe you slept with him!”

  “I can’t either. But what’s done is done.”

  “I suppose that adds to the realism of your little ruse, but it’s going to make it harder for your heart to distinguish between fantasy and reality.”

  “Already there, my friend. Already there.”

  Camilla gasped. “You haven’t—”