Marrying his Brother: A Fake Fiance Romance

by Tia Siren

  But afterward, as I came down from my high, I'd started to feel nervous. This wasn't supposed to feel intimate. I wasn't supposed to feel anything for Michael. For all he cared, I was just a vessel for his baby. An oven, basically.

  That's why I'd had to leave so quickly. I didn't think I could lie there and let him spoon me and not want something more. I knew that Erica was right in reminding me to be careful. But even if I was interested in Michael, there was no way someone as handsome and smart as him (not to mention someone as rich as him) would ever be interested in someone like me. I had to figure that as long as I went into our relationship knowing that, there wouldn't be any problems. I wouldn't let myself get too attached.

  “Well, I'll be there for you with the ice cream,” Erica said. “Whether or not you get pregnant, and whether or not you get your heart broken. It'll just be pistachio-flavored if you're pregnant, and cookie dough flavored if you get your heart broken.”

  I raised my water towards her in an ironic salute. “Thanks for always being a great friend,” I told her. “I'm going to need that.” Then, I got to my feet. “Let's get this inventory shit done so we can go home. Right now, I need my bed more than I need you!”

  Erica laughed and grabbed the clipboard so we could get back into it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Michael

  I knew that Paige didn't get done with work until two in the morning, but I couldn't help showing up early at The Shift. Three hours early, to be exact.

  The bar wasn't very busy, as was to be expected on a Wednesday night. Most of the regulars at the bar knew that Thursday was the best night of the week, and they were saving their energy. Because of this, it was easy enough to find an empty seat at the bar and wait for Paige to come over.

  “What are you doing here so early?” she asked when she saw me. She looked surprised, and I felt a pleased little flush go through me at that.

  That was part of why I was here so early: to surprise her. I didn't know why I wanted to do that, and I didn't want to examine it too closely. But there I was.

  I shrugged nonchalantly at her. “Figured you could probably use some company,” I told her. “It's not like Wednesdays are very busy around here.”

  Paige laughed and looked around. “Not busy at all,” she said. She shook her head. “But I do have to stay here until two anyway. That's my shift.”

  “I know,” I said. “I'm not trying to drag you away or anything.” Except that now that I thought about it, I wished I could. She was looking particularly sexy, in a low-cut, backless green dress that made her eyes stand out even more brightly than usual. I wondered suddenly if she had worn it just for me, but I squashed that thought as soon as it popped into my head. Of course she wouldn't have worn it just for me. We were both on the same page in terms of this relationship, and I wasn't her boyfriend. She wouldn't dress up for me.

  Still, it was one of the nicer outfits that I'd seen her wear, in all the time that I'd been coming to The Shift, and I had to admit that she looked good.

  I let myself fantasize for the moment. If there was no one else there, I would strip her down and lay her out across the bar. Climb up on top of her and have my way with her. No concern for who might see us. I wondered if the place would echo as she cried out my name. Wondered if she would whimper if I bore down into her on top of the hard, polished wood.

  “Are you all right?” Paige asked, and I realized I was still staring at her. I thought back, trying to remember what we were talking about.

  I realized that she had asked me what I wanted to drink. “Just a beer,” I told her. “Lager, whatever's on tap.”

  “Okay,” Paige said, spinning away. When she bent over to grab a clean glass from under the counter, I had to fight to keep from choking on air.

  Jesus, her legs go all the way up, I thought. Of course, I knew that; I'd had those very same legs wrapped around me the previous night. But seeing them like that was almost more than I could take. I was suddenly, achingly hard.

  “Hey Michael,” one of the other employees said, leaning against the bar across from me.

  I stared at her, trying to figure out if I knew her. Of course, I'd seen her face around there regularly before, but I didn't think we had ever talked.

  I had the sudden worry that maybe she'd been one of the women that I'd taken home from The Shift over the years. Wouldn't that be awkward, if she was standing there listening as I chatted with Paige?

  “Michael, this is Erica, she's my best friend,” Paige said quickly, giving me a guilty look. “She's the one that I live with.”

  I nodded, suddenly connecting the dots. So this was the woman that Paige had spoken to about our arrangement. I had to admit it, I didn't want to get on Erica's bad side. I didn't know what it was about her, but something told me she would go to the ends of the earth to protect Paige. I felt suddenly guilty about the plan.

  Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get Paige knocked up. It was easy enough to consider when I was just looking at things on paper, but remembering that Paige was an actual person, with a life of her own, things became infinitely more complex.

  But that was silly. Paige was an adult, and she had consented to this. If she didn't want to do it, no one was forcing her.

  I smiled at Erica and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  Erica nodded at me and then withdrew her hand. “Paige, why don't you get out of here early tonight?” she suggested.

  Paige made a face. “Erica, I don't need to do that,” she said.

  “Come on, there's no one in here anyway,” Erica pointed out. “There's no reason to have both of us working the till.”

  “Yeah, but I need the tips,” Paige said, her expression suddenly worried. She pulled Erica away from me and spoke in a low, urgent voice, but I could still hear her words. “Rent's due next week,” she reminded the other woman. “I don't know if I can pay it if I don't get my full shift tonight. Michael isn't going to pay me the first half of the money until I've conceived, and I won't know that until a few days after we've had sex, at the earliest.”

  “You know I can help you out with rent, it's not a problem,” Erica said. “And I know you're good for the money. We can square up once you get pregnant and get the money.”

  “What if I can't get pregnant though?” Paige said, sounding truly worried. “What if I'm not ovulating?”

  “It'll happen eventually,” Erica said reasonably. “Or else you can take a couple extra shifts next month and pay me back then.”

  “Or I could just do the work that I was assigned to do tonight and not have to worry about it,” Paige reasoned. “Please, Erica.”

  I had an idea. “Or,” I said mildly. “I could pay you whatever it is that you would have earned in tips tonight, plus your hourly wage if you need, and we could get out of here a little early.” The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to just go. I didn't know if I could sit there for another couple of hours watching Paige move around in that dress of hers. I wanted to take her right then and there, or at least to drag her back into the bathrooms and have my way with her there, no matter how filthy they undoubtedly were, this being not the nicest of bars.

  Paige looked torn. “Now that would make me feel like a prostitute,” she said, keeping her voice low and glancing towards the other customers at the bar.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I said. I could see where she was coming from, as much as I didn't like her response.

  “How about I'll give you half of the tips that I earn tonight,” Erica tried. When she saw that Paige still looked torn, she pressed it. “Come on, you need to go out and have some fun. I can't remember the last time you did something social.”

  “I just went over to Michael's place two nights ago,” Paige reminded her.

  “Just for a quick fuck,” I said. “You didn't even stay long enough to have dinner.”

  Paige looked guilty, and Erica smirked. “Come on,” she said. “Get out of here. I promise I can handle
this place by myself for the night. We'll figure out finances later.”

  “Okay,” Paige sighed, sounding defeated. “Just give me a minute to grab my jacket out of the back room.” She disappeared behind the swinging wooden door.

  Erica leveled a finger at me as the other woman disappeared. “I swear to god, Michael Adams, if you hurt her, I'm going to make sure you get what's coming to you.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “I have no desire to hurt her.”

  “Good.”

  Paige reappeared after a moment and came around the bar towards me, her hands shoved deep in her pockets. She looked nervously up at me. “Well, shall we?” she asked.

  I knocked back the rest of my beer and threw a couple bills on the counter. “Let's get out of here,” I agreed. “My limo is waiting down the street.”

  Paige gaped at me and then laughed. “Only you would come out to the bar in a limo,” she said. Then, she frowned. “Well, you and a bunch of brand new 21-year-olds spending Daddy's money.”

  I laughed as well. “It's a chick magnet,” I said to defend my choice. Then, I winced. “But you probably don't want to hear that.”

  Paige shrugged. “We both know that this isn't a relationship,” she said. “You've been with other women, and I've been with other men. Hell, I've watched you pick up women from The Shift, what, a dozen times?”

  I grimaced, feeling strangely sheepish about that. “Sorry,” I said.

  Paige gave me a weird look but didn't comment on my out-of-the-blue apology, for which I was grateful.

  We climbed into the limo, and I directed the driver to take us back to my apartment. I couldn't stop glancing over at Paige as we rode along. I wanted desperately to take her right there in the limo, but I didn't know how she would feel about that, especially not when I'd already admitted to using this vehicle to pick up chicks. She would know that she wasn't the first one to have sex with me in there.

  And for some reason, that bothered me. Well, she is going to be the mother of your child, I reminded myself. The least you could do would be to show her a little respect.

  I allowed myself to reach over and put a hand on Paige's thigh, unable to keep my hands off her any longer. If the hitch in Paige's breath was anything to go by, she was feeling much the same way I was.

  I growled and pulled her onto my lap, kissing her heatedly. I could feel her ladyhood pressing against my length, through the flimsy fabric of her panties and the smooth cotton of my slacks. She rocked her hips down, and I groaned loudly, my hands coming around to cup her bum, drawing her towards me, urging her to make that move again.

  She did, and I was struck by the sudden realization that I could come just like this, like a needy school boy. I laughed, and Paige pulled back, giving me a quizzical look.

  I shook my head. “Forget it,” I told her, pushing her hair off her neck and biting a mark into the skin near her collarbone. Then, I kissed her again, forcing my way into her mouth, my lips pressing firmly against hers. She met my kiss with equal interest, tilting her head to the side to give me better access. She gasped as I played with her breast through the fabric of her dress, and I dropped my forehead to rest against her collarbone.

  “Fuck, I need to come,” I whispered.

  “Me too,” Paige whispered back, giggling a little.

  I grinned up at her and brought my hand down between her legs. I could feel how damp she was already, her wetness seeping through the silky fabric of her panties. As I petted her, she shamelessly spread her legs to give me better access, rocking her hips again.

  I brought my hand up behind her head and pulled her down into another kiss as I continued to toy with her clit, wondering if I could get her to come just like this.

  Chapter Twelve

  Paige

  The things Michael was doing to me, I didn't even have words. I was so turned on, I was practically vibrating with it. The air in the limo was charged, thick with lust and desire, both mine and his. As he played with my clit, sliding his hands across the damp fabric of my panties, it was all I could do not to come right then and there. I was so dangerously close, though. I had been ever since Michael appeared at the bar and made it clear that he wanted to take me home right then.

  I felt a pang of guilt, remembering how I had skipped out early, how Erica was probably going to have to spot me money for rent now. But it was hard to focus on such mundane matters, in light of Michael's ministrations.

  I moaned loudly as Michael pushed his fingers past my panties and pushed them inside of me. Suddenly, I realized something. “We're not going anywhere,” I said.

  Michael pulled his head back from where he'd been nuzzling my neck. He peered towards the window and then gave me a sheepish grin. “When did that happen?” he asked. “Shall we take this inside?”

  “Do you think we can make it up the elevator?” I asked breathlessly.

  Michael's eyes darkened at that. “The things I'd like to do to you, here and in the elevator,” he said. Then, he shook his head. “Bed.”

  “Bed,” I agreed, tumbling out of the limo and letting him follow.

  We made it to the elevator without incident. Once there, Michael put his hands on my hips, pulling me back against him and grinding against my behind. “God, you in that dress,” he growled. “When you bent over at the bar, I thought I was going to explode.”

  I widened my eyes innocently, looking at him in the mirror. “In this old thing?” I asked.

  Michael lowered his head and kissed and sucked his way from the joint of my neck and shoulder up to my ear, pausing to nibble at my earlobe. I mewled plaintively, still caught up in the view of our reflection in the back panel of the elevator. I had to admit, we looked good together, in a way that I could never have expected. Of course, it helped that I was wearing one of my nicest dresses that evening, with my hair blown out in waves. I looked like I belonged next to his fancy, tailored suit and his immaculate dark hair.

  But there was something else about it, some unknown quality to our reflection that made me feel like maybe this was right.

  I couldn't dwell on it though; soon, we were inside his penthouse apartment. Same as the night before, I didn't have much time to take in my surroundings, as he dragged me impatiently down the hall to the bedroom, barely pausing to close his front door behind us.

  I giggled and stripped naked just as quickly as he did.

  He drew me up against his body, our kissing even hungrier than it had been before. I trembled against him, already so keyed up. I wanted to beg him for more, but I could barely breathe, given the ferocity of the kiss. I felt as though I was being consumed by him, or consumed by the fire of passion inside me. But I still craved more.

  I made a noise of protest as he pulled away from me, but I didn't need to worry: Michael was just as ready as I was for more. He practically threw me onto the bed and then climbed immediately on top of me. His fingers went back to where they had been out in the limo, stroking through my slickness, but this time, my panties weren't in his way.

  He plunged his fingers inside of me, working them against my walls, setting a quick, almost violent rhythm. I panted, using my heels to rock down onto his digits, needing more.

  And more is what I got. He scissored his fingers, dragging the pads of them down my walls, creating a level of friction that was so perfect, I couldn't help but cry out. I wasn't normally one to be loud during sex, but with Michael, I didn't have a choice. Every little thing that he did had me begging for more.

  He twisted his fingers and then bent them, finding a spot inside of me that I had never known existed. I gasped breathlessly, my eyes rolling back in my head. “Again,” I sobbed. “Please, again. Again, again, again.”

  Michael grinned triumphantly and continued to work that spot, rubbing it again and again with his fingers. With his other hand, he started to play with my clit again as well, and with so much pleasure coursing through me, I was helpless, I was exploding, I was coming hard, my walls twitching around his finge
rs, clenching again and again and again.

  He slowly withdrew his fingers, and I could only sigh at the loss of fullness. I felt utterly languid, boneless, sated in a way I had never felt before.

  But Michael was ready to chase his own pleasure now. He nudged my knees further apart and settled between them. Then, he slid into me in one clean thrust. He paused there, and at first, I thought he was giving me a moment to adjust to his girth. Then, I recognized the strain in his arms, the tight expression on his face. He was close to coming already, I realized, and I couldn't help smiling up at him as I ran my fingers through the back of his hair.

  He gave one quick thrust and then paused again, grinning sheepishly down at me. Before he could say anything, though, I surged up into a kiss, realizing that I was incredibly turned on by the idea that he was so incredibly turned on that he could barely stave off the orgasm long enough to fuck me.

  He began to move against me, first just short, shallow thrusts, building into longer ones that drove all the air out of my lungs. The spot that he'd been hitting before tingled, still sensitive, and I shivered, fingers twisting in the sheets.

  Michael brought a hand down between us, playing with my clit again, even as he continued to fuck into me in sharp, staccato thrusts that sent my blood singing through my veins. I was so close already, so close to coming again. That sated feeling from before had all but vanished, replaced by this gnawing desire, this hunger for him.

  He brought his hand up to cup my cheek, looking down into my eyes with an unreadable expression on his face. The deep blue of his eyes pulling me in. But that lasted for just a moment. He dropped down onto his elbows so he could force himself all the way into my body, as far as his member could go.

  His thrusts started to lose their rhythm, and he suddenly froze. But I was hardly paying attention, caught up in my own bliss. I came for the second time, my vision whiting out for a moment with the intensity of my emotion. I was shaking with it, clinging to him as though he was a lifeline and I was lost at sea.