by Rush, Olivia
But just before the moment our lips would’ve touched, Bryce spoke.
“I think I ought to get to bed. Tomorrow I’m announcing our engagement to the world, after all.”
He stepped back, putting distance between us.
“Good night,” he said before stepping into the apartment, not waiting for me to respond.
And there I stood, confused and above all, impossibly horny.
What the hell was this man doing to me?
* * *
I woke up the next morning to realize that my arousal hadn’t gone away in the slightest. As I lay in bed, the image of Bryce at the tailor’s still fresh in my mind, I slowly slipped my hands under my panties, closing my eyes and letting my fantasy carry me away.
In my imagination, Bryce did all the things to me that I craved. He guided me slowly toward the mirror, bending me over and hiking the dress up my thighs.
I touched myself, rubbing my clit as I imagined Bryce pulling my panties to the side just enough to expose my dripping wet cunt. And once I was bent over and ready for him, he shoved his thick, hard cock into me.
I grabbed onto the sides of the mirrors, holding on as tightly as I could as he pounded me hard, my hair bouncing wildly around my head as he slammed his hips into my ass over and over.
I writhed and moaned in bed, the orgasm building and finally rushing through my body. Bryce came in the fantasy as I did in real life, draining his balls deep into my cunt, sexy moans sounding from his lips as he filled me with his thick cum.
When the orgasm faded, however, I realized to my chagrin that masturbating to Bryce, as fun as it might’ve been, was a bad idea. I reminded myself once again that this arrangement needed to be sterile and professional, and letting my mind wander into dirty territory wasn’t going to do either of us any good.
I showered and dressed, and when I was ready, I met Bryce in the kitchen where he was seated with a cup of coffee and a newspaper.
“Morning,” he said, his tone stern, as if he’d realized how close we’d come last night to making a major mistake.
“Good morning,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee and taking a seat across from him at the kitchen bar. “What’s the agenda for today?”
“Getting ready for the ball tonight,” he said, briefly flicking his eyes up from the paper. “I’ve made an appointment for you at a nearby beauty salon. We’re going to be out the door at five, so you’re going to need to be ready by then.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “And what about you?”
“Work,” he said, his voice terse.
“Damn, no rest for the weary.”
“Not when you run a company like mine,” he said.
He turned his attention back to the paper. I sipped my coffee, feeling a little awkward and getting the sense that he was trying to put some distance between us after what had happened last night.
He knew as well as I did that we’d come very, very close to succumbing to one another again. I couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
The time for the appointment arrived quickly, and I headed out into the city to have my hair and nails done for the night ahead. When I was all done, I arrived back at the apartment, where Bryce awaited me.
All dressed up in his tux, he somehow looked more dashing than he had yesterday. His dark hair was slicked back, his face was clean-shaven, and a pair of black double-monk shoes polished to a gleaming shine completed the look.
A small smile broke out across his face as I entered, and he rose from his seat and approached to get a better look at me.
“Damn,” he said. “They did good work. Not that they had to improve much.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Carver,” I said.
“But there’s one more thing you need for tonight. Your dress is ready for you in the bedroom. Go ahead and put it on and meet me back here.”
“Sure,” I said, now very curious at what he had in mind.
He nodded toward the bedroom and I hurried off. Just as Bryce had said, the dress was waiting for me, hung up and ready. I quickly got out of my clothes and stepped into the dress and matching heels, leaving the back zipper undone for Bryce.
Once I was ready, I met him in the living room. His eyes went wide as he took in the sight of me all ready for the evening. I bit my lip, secretly loving how much I was turning him on.
“Zip me up?”
“Of course,” he said, his fingers cool against my back as he pulled the zipper up. He stepped away and appraised me. “Just beautiful.”
“Now,” I said. “That one more thing.”
“Right,” he said. “Come here.”
I approached Bryce, wondering what it was he was referring to.
He slipped his hand into his pocket, withdrawing a small purple velvet box.
“No fake marriage would be complete without a ring, right?” he asked.
He popped open the box, revealing a gorgeous, glittering diamond ring. Though the logical part of my brain knew that this was all a ruse, that as far as I was concerned, the ring was nothing more than an expensive prop, I couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of it.
“Give me your hand,” he said with a smile.
I complied, and he slipped the ring around my finger.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Believable?”
“Very much so,” I said.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now, let’s get out there and lie our asses off.”
Chapter 12
Bryce
The sight of Chelsea in the blue dress was almost too much for me to take. I knew that I needed to get her out in public before she caused me to lose control again. Thankfully, right at that moment I received a call from the limo driver letting me know that he was here and ready to take us to the ball.
“Our carriage awaits?” she asked.
“Indeed it does,” I said. “After you.”
The elevator doors opened and, after a brief ride down and a walk through the lobby—where Chelsea turned the head of every man nearby—the two of us stepped into the back of the limo and were off.
“OK,” said Chelsea once we were on our way. “What are the rules?”
“The rules?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “You have to keep in mind that I’m the kind of girl who’s more comfortable working in front of a computer than anything else. These kind of elaborate social affairs aren’t really my scene.”
I sat back, drink in hand, as I considered the matter. Outside of the car the sun was beginning to set, the lights of the city twinkling on a little at a time.
“I suppose you’re right about that,” I said. “Biggest rule is that we’re engaged. You’re going to have people congratulating you all night, so get ready for that.”
“Oh!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “What’s the story?”
“Story is we met in the elevator and two of us hit it off. Love at first sight. We spent the evening together, and then the evening turned into the next day, and before we knew it the two of us realized that we had something truly special.”
“From meeting to getting engaged over the course of forty-eight hours,” she said. “Seems pretty impulsive.”
“That’s why it’s a good story,” I said. “I’m known for being methodical and careful, perhaps to a fault. The idea that someone like myself would fall head over heels for a woman so quickly will seem so shocking and unlike me that it’ll be almost easier to believe.”
“I’ve heard that the more outlandish the lie, the more easily it can go down,” she said with a sly smile.
I was in agreement, but the way Chelsea said the words “go down” put all sorts of other thoughts—dirty thoughts—in my mind.
“As far as everything else, just be yourself. I’ll be using the opportunity to network, and you will probably also meet some people who’ll be very good to know in the company.”
Then a thought occurred to me—the fact that Felicity would be there. I quickly de
bated whether or not to tell Chelsea about her, eventually deciding to do so.
“You’re familiar with Felicity Hargrove, right?” I asked.
A “duh” expression flashed on Chelsea’s face. “It’s not like I know her, but of course I do— she’s one of the biggest actresses out there. Not to mention the fact that you dated her.”
“She’s going to be there tonight,” I said. “And while she should know better than anyone not to start any drama, who knows what’ll happen once she learns that you and I are engaged.”
“Uh oh,” said Chelsea.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” I said. “Just letting you know so it’s not a surprise.”
I finished my drink, hoping that I was right about Felicity not causing a scene. It sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time. Felicity was all posh on the outside, but once she got a few drinks in her, she had a tendency for theatrics. Especially when she felt like she wasn’t getting her way.
And me getting married to someone else would be the ultimate in her not getting her way.
“Other than that, just try to enjoy the evening.”
Chelsea quickly nodded, and I could sense that she was more than a little nervous. Without thinking, I reached over and placed my hand on her thigh.
“Listen,” I said. “You’re going to do fine. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you were capable of it. Just be that same headstrong girl I met in the elevator.”
She nodded again, her eyes briefly flicking down to my hand on her thigh. I’d put it there as a comforting gesture, but she and I both knew that it could’ve been something much more. The bottom of my hand grazed her exposed skin, and my cock twitched in my dress pants.
As much as I wanted to leave my hand there, maybe even to slip it up that lovely dress and find out what kind of panties Chelsea was wearing underneath, cooler thoughts prevailed, and I took my hand back.
At that moment we pulled up to the venue, which was a massive, pre-WWII building adorned with magnificent columns and a stately dome. The front of the scene was alive with activity, limos pulling up and letting out their VIPs, the walkway up to the grand staircase flanked by paparazzi all hoping for the shot of the night.
And Chelsea and I were about to give it to them.
Our limo pulled into the queue, and soon it was our turn to step out.
“You ready for this?” I asked.
“About as ready as I’m going to be,” she said.
The chauffeur opened the door, and the clamor of paparazzi rushed up to greet us. I stepped out, the cameras and attention fixing squarely on me.
But when I reached into the limo to help Chelsea to her feet, it was like I didn’t even exist. I figured it would take about five seconds before they noticed the ring on her finger. Sure enough, gasps sounded throughout the crowd as they took in the sight of Chelsea.
“Mr. Carver!” called out one as I took Chelsea’s hand and led her toward the stairs. “Who’s your date for the night?”
“Is that an engagement ring?” another yelled.
I leaned toward Chelsea, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her in close.
“Don’t say anything,” I said. “Just smile.”
I could tell she was feeling more overwhelmed with each passing second. I led her quickly through the gauntlet of press and up the stairs. The massive doors of the hall were wide open, and I led her through as fast as I could without looking like we were rushing.
Relief washed over me as soon as we entered the grand hall. The interior of the place was just as impressive as I’d remembered, with marble and centuries-old art adorning the space. Crowds of well-dressed men and women were gathered here and there, and a jazz band on stage played lively music. Servers clad in black darted between the groups of guests.
My hand still on Chelsea’s back, I led her further into the room, away from the press outside.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, removing my hand from her back just long enough to lift two glasses of champagne from a passing server’s tray.
“That was…intense,” she said.
“No kidding,” I told her in response. “There’s a reason I wanted to get away from all of that for a while.”
Chelsea stopped in her tracks, taking in the sight of the ballroom.
“Wow,” she said. “This place is amazing.”
“Isn’t it?” I asked, my eyes drifting along the intricate Renaissance-style mural on the interior of the dome above. “One of my favorite places in the city. Too bad we have to break through a barrier of paparazzi to come in.”
I slipped my hand onto the small of her back, bringing her close. The scent of her hair and perfume drifted up to my nose, and I felt intoxicated by Chelsea almost instantly.
“Now remember,” I said, “we’re engaged and still in the middle of love at first sight. So, you’re going to need to act the part.”
She gave me a sly look, her eyes narrowing in a seductive way that caused my cock to go to half-mast.
“Then maybe we ought to make an impression?” she said, turning her body toward mine and throwing her arms around my shoulders.
I put my hands on her hips, letting them move over her curves.
“I definitely agree,” I said, her soft, dark red lips crying out for a kiss.
I leaned and pressed my lips against hers, her body melting into mine. We kissed slowly, deeply, like two people so madly in love that the rest of the world might as well not exist. The interplay of our tongues filled my mouth with her impossibly delicious taste.
After more of this, I pulled her away gently, her lips smacking as they separated from mine.
“There we go,” she said. “Now everyone here knows just who you belong to.”
I smirked. “That’s the message that gaudy ring was meant to send, but I think that did the trick just as well.”
I glanced around and sure enough, the eyes of nearly everyone around us were on Chelsea and me.
“Good thing there’s no one in here to take pictures,” she said.
“You’d be surprised,” I said.
Over Chelsea’s shoulder I spotted the familiar face of Damien Winter, the man I was hoping to get to invest in my company—the exact person I wanted to see my little display. Damien was a white-haired, classically handsome man, his sturdy, athletic build not what one would expect for a man in his seventies. His eyes were friendly, and his smile was warm, but I knew that beneath his congenial exterior was a man with cunning business instincts.
“Bryce!” he said, sticking out his hand.
I took it, and he shook my hand with me his usual firm grip, complete with alpha-male eye contact.
“Mr. Winter,” I said, letting go of his hand. “Pleasure to see you, as always.”
He then turned his attention to Chelsea.
“And you have to introduce me to your new girlfriend,” he said.
“I’d love to,” I said, “but ‘girlfriend’ is the wrong word.”
I nudged Chelsea slightly.
“Go on,” I said. “Show him.”
“Fiancée, actually,” she said with a smile, holding up the hand with the ring.
Damien’s face exploded in an expression of total surprise.
“Fiancée?” he asked. “No kidding! I had no idea that you were even involved with anyone.”
“That’s because we weren’t until very recently,” I said.
“It all happened so fast,” said Chelsea, jumping in. “We met each other just a few days ago…”
And off she went. Chelsea told the fake story of our engagement with the skill and poise of an actress. When she was done, Damien was dumbfounded.
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “When I saw you two necking like a couple of teens, I figured you’d just found this week’s diversion. But you two really sound like you’ve found a once-in-a-lifetime thing here.”
“I couldn’t put it better myself,” I said. “We knew it was sudden, and maybe even
a little reckless, but when you find love like we have, you don’t want to let it go.”
Damien nodded, clearly pleased by what he was hearing.
“So, Bryce Carver finally found a woman to make him an honest man,” he said. “I thought the day would never come. This is an interesting development. You think you’re ready for the domesticated life?”
“I never thought I would be,” I said, “but I see now that it just takes the right person to bring it out of you.”
“That’s precisely how I felt about my wife, Anna, when she and I first met,” said Damien. “I was about your age when that happened, living the bachelor life, thinking I’d never settle down. Then I met her, and everything changed.”
“Where is she?” asked Chelsea. “I’d love to meet her.”
“She passed some years ago,” said Damien.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Chelsea.
“Thank you. But knowing that a young man like yourself, Bryce, is finally ready to put childish things away is some wonderful news.” Then he leaned in a bit. “Let’s discuss all this over lunch some time,” he said. “I’d love to talk about this, and a few other matters, with you.”
“I’d like nothing more,” said Bryce.
“Anyway, I’ve taken up enough of your time. You two just showed up, and you’ve got the whole evening to enjoy. Again, congratulations.”
We said our goodbyes, and Damien headed off back into the party.
Chelsea took a slow breath and turned to me.
“How was that?” she asked. “How did I do?”
“That was totally impressive,” I said. “You really sold this thing of ours. And that was the exact man I’m looking to sell this to.”
“Maybe I’m cut out for this ‘fake fiancée’ thing after all,” she said, her hands on her hips and a proud smile on her face.
But a quick glance over her shoulder let me know that the real test was yet to come. Because striding toward us, her golden hair as bright as a beacon, was none other than Felicity Hargrove.