Double Dare: A Fake Fiancee MMF Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “Don’t forget the butter,” added Chris helpfully, pushing a huge tub of the good stuff towards me. “Everything’s better with butter,” he said with another wink, seating himself on the stool next to me and helping himself to a short stack.

  And so my introduction to my ten days wasn’t scary or weird at all. In fact, it seemed like a completely harmless breakfast with an older man, one who was funny and charming, one who went out of his way to cook for me, make me laugh, put me at ease. I could almost say that there was nothing to worry about, except reality had to intrude at some point. Once the last bite of pancakes was finished, I leapt up and began clearing the plates.

  “Here, I’ll clean,” I said with a smile at the big man, “You cooked so I’ll clean, it’s fair.”

  But Chris’s hand came down over mine, his big palm square, the fingers blunt and oh so warm.

  “That can wait,” he rumbled deep in his chest, his eyes electric suddenly. “We have some things to talk about.”

  And my breath caught in my throat, my fingers stilling on the plates.

  “Um, of course,” I said, “Just give me a minute to clean up and we can talk all you want,” I said with a sassy smile before fleeing to the bathroom.

  I could hear plates clinking outside as I stared at myself in the tiny powder room mirror. Everything about me looked normal, the same brown curly hair, the same big caramel eyes except that there was a new awareness humming all through me, my lips trembling slightly, a little more pink than usual, my eyes were especially bright.

  Calm down, I directed myself. You signed up for ten days with Mr. Jones and you know what you’re getting yourself into. It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, I reassured myself.

  So taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the kitchen once more, smiling brightly.

  “Ready schmeady, I’m at your disposal,” I teased with a confidence I didn’t quite feel, and the big man quirked an eyebrow at me before shutting off the water, turning to look at me with a dishtowel draped over his shoulder, crossing his arms over that broad chest. Oh god, he looked so good, that white towel was so small and limp draped over a strong shoulder, the contrast only highlighting his masculinity. Again, I could feel myself losing control, spinning helplessly once more in his powerful orbit, drawn magnetically by his aura of confidence.

  And the big man’s eyes deepened as he took me in, becoming fathomless, magnetic pools.

  “Good,” he rumbled, a hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. “Because I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

  And with that, he swept me into his arms, lifting me up to press my curvy form against his big one and smashed his mouth onto mine, all the while striding through the living room and up the stairs, kicking open a door before depositing me on a huge bed.

  “Oh!” I squealed, bouncing up and down, everything about me flying in all directions. “Oh!”

  I got a glimpse of dark furniture, heavy, solid, contrasted against cream white walls before I was pushed back onto the navy bedspread, Chris’s big hands helping to pull the sweatshirt over my head, strip off my jeans, my socks, my everything, until I was completely bare in front of him, every inch nude, creamy and white, spread before his gaze.

  And I had another instant of momentary shock, of “What the fuck am I doing?” Because a waft of cool air trailed over my nipples, making them tingle almost painfully, while another one trailed between my thighs, blowing sense into me, and I tensed automatically, pushing my legs together, my virginal instincts on high in the presence of an alpha male.

  But Chris was on it in a sec, he noticed every small reaction of my body, every small shudder, every quick, indrawn breath.

  “No baby,” he murmured, trailing one big hand up my right thigh, caressing and squeezing the luscious flesh. “Don’t get scared, it’s just me.”

  I tried to act casual, relax a little, force my leg down but I couldn’t help the tremor that ran through my form, the elevated breathing.

  “It’s just you?” I said weakly. “Mr. Jones, I’ve never done this before so ‘it’s just you’ isn’t very comforting.”

  “I know,” he said, leaning close to take my lips in another deep kiss as his hands massaged and stroked my waist and ass, running smoothly over the creamy skin, the hills and valleys that came so naturally to me. I quivered underneath him, moaning a bit, and instinctively lay back, my thighs spreading of their own accord. “But you’ll get used to me because I plan on being in you every possible second, getting to know your body and having you know mine.”

  And I couldn’t answer because the sensations that were coursing through my body took over, making me their prisoner, carrying me on a current that I couldn’t resist. I tossed my head back, sighing, lips slightly parted as his big hands explored me, weighing my girls in his palms, squeezing and loving the soft flesh, playing with my nipples, flicking them with his fingers before he leaned down and took a puffy tip into his mouth.

  “Ohhhh!” I sighed, arching my back, unconsciously offering myself to him even more. “Ohh!”

  And the big man murmured with my breast in his mouth, lightly tonguing my nub before biting it playfully, making me squeal, and then soothing the hurt with his tongue, licking me again, running the sensitive tip around his mouth.

  “Mmm baby girl,” he rumbled against my skin, “You taste good.”

  And I’d lost it by now, even so early into our foreplay. I was writhing, twisting underneath him, my hands running through his hair, grasping at him with panting breaths, desperate to see him, hold him, do whatever came next.

  “Please Mr. Jones,” I panted, my body loose and wet for him already. “Please.”

  And the big man chuckled deep in his chest, quirking an eyebrow at me.

  “So soon, baby girl? You really are a horny slut aren’t you, that little cunt can’t wait to be taken,” he growled.

  The nasty words should have made me cringe, should have made me hate him, but they just turned me on more, my body growing slick, begging for him. Because yeah, I was horny, my pussy ached so bad, I wanted Chris to touch it, to kiss it, to make it his, and I wasn’t above begging.

  “Please Mr. Jones,” I mewled again, writhing on the sheets as he lapped my breasts. “Please, please, touch me there.”

  And a deep chuckle emanated from his chest, the vibrations pressed against my tummy.

  “Here?” he murmured, my boob still in his mouth as he stroked my arm with one hand. “Here?” he teased again, as he ran that same hand down my waist and over my hips.

  “Here?” he played with me again, tickling my tummy with his fingers, making me mewl and writhe again as they dropped lower and lower, teasing me. “Or here?” he asked with finality, that big hand finally cupping my wet folds, the center of my femininity, my pussy aching and begging to be explored.

  “Yes, there, there,” I panted, clutching his shoulders now, my legs spread so wide I should have been ashamed, losing it all in front of the big man. But I didn’t care and just spread my thighs wider as his fingers began to stroke through my folds, moaning so loud you could probably hear it in a neighboring town, my wetness so sleek, so swollen that each drag of his fingers through my folds made tingles run through my cunt, emanating all through my pelvic region.

  “Yes, there,” I panted again as one big finger began circling my clit, playing with my little nub, stroking it on its underside before giving it a sweet pinch.

  “Ahhh!” I shrieked, shivers of electricity running through me, my breasts jiggling with the unbelievable sensations below. “Ahh!”

  And the big man groaned before muttering, “Fuck, I have to taste.”

  And in a flash, he was between my thighs, that big head right at my snatch. He pushed my knees up so that he could see everything, everything bared from ass to clit, and shook his head, growling, his eyes glued to my twat.

  “How’d you get so beautiful, baby girl?” he ground out before diving in, lapping up my right wall, then my left. My cunt creamed immediately, th
e white rising up from inside, spilling out, dripping wetly down my butt but Chris was on it. He lapped it up, letting my juices run down his throat, the tangy taste of female the ultimate ambrosia.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I cried out, this was so fucking dirty. My pussy was being tasted for the first time and it felt so good I’d lost my mind already, my head thrashing back and forth on the pillow, my hands scrabbling mindlessly at the sheets, grasping at air. “Oh fuck me, fuck me!”

  The big man just growled between my legs, this time pulling my labia apart with big fingers so that he could see up my insides, my stiffly engorged clit, waving and dancing in the air, and the beautiful, glistening walls of my inner channel, pulsing and begging for his dick. Without hesitating, he dipped his head and licked lightly at my entrance, teasing it, nipping at the soft flesh.

  “Yeah, this is where my dick is gonna go,” he rumbled, more to himself than me. “This is what I’m gonna fuck.”

  And I creamed wetly again at those words, I wanted it so bad, my clit buzzed with electricity, I needed him so badly in me, my pussy gushing even more juice.

  “Do it then,” I panted. “Put it in me, put it in me.”

  But Chris shot me a sly glance then.

  “Not just yet baby, because you have something that I want to taste.”

  I paused momentarily.

  “What?” I begged, my voice on a whine, my hips writhing beneath his hands. “Please taste it, you’ve tasted it already.” If he meant my cunt, my clit, my interior channel, he could have as much of that as he wanted, I’d be more than happy to let him feast so long as put his dick in me stat. But the big man had other plans, there was another part of my anatomy that was precious, untouched.

  “No baby, not that,” he nuzzled against my folds, making me squirm again and let out a light squeal. “I want to taste your hymen, I want to feel that little piece of tissue that’s never been broken before.”

  And my eyes popped open then.

  “You can taste that?” I breathed, still for a moment, unbelieving. “You can …” I couldn’t even finish, it was so obscene. Chris could push his tongue into my pussy far enough to run it up against my hymen, the proof of my virginity?

  And the big man nodded, a dark, possessive look coming over his face.

  “Oh yeah,” he growled, deep color suddenly slashing his cheeks. “This is yours to give once and you’ve chosen me, baby. So I’m gonna savor it, I’m gonna take everything that’s mine.”

  And with that, he pushed my knees back even further so that I was a feast before him, my butt almost lifted off the bed, my cunt so wet, so wide, so willing that every part of my lower region was now coated in cream, glistening in the low lights. And with a shake of his head and a deep growl, Chris went in. He lapped lightly at my labia first before circling my hole, and then slowly, oh so slowly, inched his tongue up my pussy.

  “Ummm!” I cried mindlessly, the sensation amazing. I could feel that warm muscle moving up my channel, so soft yet strong, sure and slickly wet. “Umm!”

  “Relax baby girl,” he muttered, backing away for a moment before pushing his tongue in once more. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned. Because it had happened, his tongue had pushed against the rubbery, sensitive barrier that proved my virginity, my innocence as a girl. And I don’t know what I was thinking but I wanted him so badly that I actually fucked my hips against his face, jerking slightly, like I wanted him to break my hymen with his tongue.

  But the big man chuckled, holding me still, still lapping at my pussy.

  “No baby, this is yours to give once, and I want to savor it. So hold still,” he commanded, and with another deep thrust of his tongue, was in my pussy once more, licking my hymen, testing its rubbery strength, lapping gently at the tissue while drinking my pussy cream.

  And I couldn’t take it then. I was young, nubile, untested and inexperienced and I was no match for the sensations coursing through my body, the boundaries being pushed. So I came like a hurricane then, his tongue in my cunt, my little body juicing and giving it up, my pussy spasming uncontrollably on his mouth, squirts of cream running everywhere.

  “Ohhh!” I screamed. “Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones!”

  And as if in reply, he just pushed his tongue even further up my cunt, groaning into my folds, egging me onwards, the vibrations of his mouth like a motor on my pussy.

  “Ohhh!” I screamed again as my vision went black, then white, my back arching off the bed, boobs bouncing wildly as electric jolts shot through my pelvic area, my cunt snapping and clamping, tidal waves coursing through my clit, making me shake, shiver and tremble. “Ohhh!”

  And Chris just drank it all up, never moving his tongue from my cunt, burying it even deeper still, big hands caressing my thighs, hips and waist, touching me everywhere, soothing my untested body as it was ravaged by its first man-made orgasm. And I ground down hard on his face, my cunt creaming on him so that his chin and nose were coated with nectar, swallowing him in my soft folds, the swollen flesh spasming and twitching against his cheeks.

  But the big man loved it, loved being face first in a woman’s pussy as she screamed his name and orgasmed. He savored every second, giving me light licks, teasing me with his tongue, kissing the soft flesh while stroking my body with his hands. And as I calmed and came back to Earth, Mr. Jones pulled back slowly, licking his lips, wiping his face with the back of his hand, smearing the cream a bit. I was so inexperienced that I half-expected him to say something silly, to make a joke about being smashed in my pussy or some other lame thing, but instead the big man leaned forward and dropped a kiss on my nipple before seizing my mouth with his, breathing in my scent, my breath, my essence, savoring everything I had to give.

  “Thank you baby,” he said simply, looking into my eyes, that blue gaze serious, so arresting. “Thank you honey, that was amazing.”

  And I melted into a puddle then, my insides going warm, my heart softening. Because whatever Mr. Jones wanted, whatever his desires … I was his for the next ten days.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chris

  Lindy is so fucking amazing. Sweet, willing, giving, and so horny during her first time, I could hardly believe it. The brunette had never had dick before, her hymen was intact, but fuck, she’d begged me to put it in, begged me to push through that thin barrier and make her into a woman.

  And I was only too happy to. I wanted ten days of depravity with her, ten days spent straight in bed, getting up only to eat and shit. Because fuck, that body, those sweet, breathy gasps, her responsiveness, her constantly slick cunt were such turn-ons that I was tempted to tie her down and lock her up.

  But when the teen stepped out of the car, the sunlight glinting off those brown curls, shooting me a shy smile and wearing a college sweatshirt, I jolted sharply, rudely reminded of her youth and innocence. So instead, I made Lindy breakfast. Yeah, that’s what I’ve come down to. Chris Jones, CEO and Mr. Alpha Male, made a teenage girl breakfast in his kitchen, pancakes with whipped cream, plenty of butter and syrup.

  But it was the right thing to do. Lindy was sweet, unassuming, sharing her heart with me despite our “arrangement,” despite the danger lurking ahead.

  “My parents think I’m at school already,” she confessed, looking down at her hands. “I told them the coffee shop needed me back early.”

  I frowned then, my hand stilling while beating eggs.

  “You work?” I rumbled darkly, glancing over. “I thought you were going to class full-time.”

  And she nodded again, biting her lip.

  “Yeah, I guess I’m not as smart as people think,” she said a little wryly. “Everyone thinks I got a huge scholarship to go to school, but actually, I just got something small, nowhere near enough. So I’m a waitress at Little Mo’s near campus, it’s not much but it helps pay the bills.”

  And I paused for a moment while mixing the batter. No scholarship? Waitressing at a place called “Little Mo’s” while going to classes full-time? Shit, serving is a
tough job, you’re on your feet all day and she was probably dead tired squeezing shifts in before and after classes. Plus, college was supposed to be a time to have fun, socialize and party, so when did that happen? When did my little girl get to relax and spread her wings? Suddenly I felt like a total douche because the financial pressures on the brunette must have been enormous, crushing her slim shoulders. And I could almost, almost, understand her father’s urge to steal, to help his daughter so she didn’t have to work so hard.

  But growling, I shook my head in disgust. Fuck, Jim had stolen from me, his hand in the till right under my nose, he deserved to be fired, the month of extra pay was a courtesy only. And I raged at myself more. What the fuck, was I going insane? Was I getting soft in my old age, feeling sympathy for a loser? It was so out of character, so whacko for my usual hard edges, my dominant, arrogant self, that I started feeling unsettled.

  But I forced myself to take a breath and relax, to stop beating the eggs to a pulp, and instead turned to Lindy with a reassuring smile.

  “Little girl, I’ll help,” I rumbled casually. “I’ve got more than enough with the business, I’m a single dude with nowhere to spend it,” I said. “Send me your tuition bill and I’ll write a check.”

  The brunette’s cheeks colored and her chin trembled for a moment.

  “Mr. Jones,” she said quietly, “I know this … um, arrangement is unconventional but you’re not paying me for sex,” she said firmly. “I’m not a whore.”

  And I stopped all movement for a moment. Because sure, I wasn’t giving her cash in an envelope, it wasn’t that obvious, but I was keeping her dad at United Electric because of our agreement. So there was definitely money involved, even if it wasn’t blatant. So I tried again.

  “Honey,” I said softly, “I want you to be comfortable, to not stress about money when you should be having fun at school. It’s not a big deal, trust me, I can afford it, so let me help, okay? Seriously.”