Marrying his Brother: A Fake Fiance Romance

by Tia Siren

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Harder.” She was yelling and moaning, and I was so focused on how sexy her voice was that I almost lost my pace, but I got back into the rhythm just in time for her eyes to close tightly and her body to start trembling. She was cumming for me again. She had her hands on her head like the pleasure was too much for her.

  I loved watching orgasms rip through her body and cause her to melt beneath me. I watched as she came down from her climax, and I slowed my pace.

  “I want you to ride me,” I said to her and pulled my cock out. It was almost torturous to do that. To remove my cock from her warm, wet, tight pussy. I wanted to cum so fucking bad. I wanted to fill her pussy with my hot cum and feel the incredible release that came with it.

  I got onto my back on the bed, and she rolled over and climbed on top of me. She straddled me, slowly lowering herself down, and then she grabbed my cock with her hand and held it up, so it slid right into her pussy.

  “Oh fuck,” I moaned and placed my hands on her hips.

  She started to rock her hips back and forth, grinding her pussy down on me, and I used my grip around her hips to help her move. To help her ride me a little harder. Then she paused, wiggled herself down onto me more so that my cock wouldn’t pop out, she placed her hands on my chest and started to roll her body up and down. The way she moved it was so fucking sexy. Like she wasn’t just riding my cock. She was dancing on it, rolling her body and grinding her pussy.

  Her moans increased the more she moved her pussy on my cock. She sat up straight, sending my cock deeper inside of her. I felt like I was going to rip through her.

  “Holy shit,” she moaned and moved her hips in circles. My cock moved around inside of her pussy, and it was the most intense feeling ever.

  I slide my hands up her sexy stomach and grabbed onto her tits. I gave them a good squeeze, and she moaned. I started to play with her nipples and noticed she started to rock her hips harder on me. She was getting close to cumming again. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Fuck that feels so good,” I told her.

  She looked down at me and nodded. She was too focused to speak. It turned me on even more because I knew it was my cock that was making her speechless.

  She rode me harder and faster. It felt so good. Her pussy sliding around my cock.

  I grabbed her hips, picked her up some and bent my knees. I held her there and began to fuck her hole hard and fast. She ran her hands through her hair, tossed her head back, and moaned louder and louder.

  “Oh my God! Your cock feels so fucking good. Yes, oh fuck me!” She was yelling, and I didn’t care who heard us. In fact, the thought that someone might hear us added to the hotness. I wanted to fuck her silly. I wanted to make her pussy sore.

  I put her down when my arms got tired and pulled her into me so that I could continue to slide my cock in and out of her. I was fucking her so hard you could hear our skin making contact. It was loud and hot, and it only made her moans grow louder.

  I let go of her back, and she sat up and went back to grinding on my cock. She was doing it harder than before. She placed her hands on my thighs, and leaned back, arching her back in the process. I slid my hand up her stomach and left it between her tits. Holding her in this position. My cock felt deeper than any other time before the pleasure was indescribable. It was mind-numbingly intense.

  “Your cock feels so amazing.” She inhaled sharply.

  “Your pussy feels so amazing,” I said back to her and focused on making her cum. If I could make her cum again, and then I would get to cum. I wanted us to cum at the same time.

  She started to move her body faster, backward and forward. Her breathing was shallow. She was getting closer and closer to cumming. Her body started to tremble, and she was calling out my name. I grabbed her around the back again and started to fuck her hard and fast. She was cumming and hardly able to hold herself up. I continued to fuck her through her orgasm. Her moans were loud. I thrust my cock harder and faster in and out of her. I was close. I could feel it about to happen. The intense feeling hit me and took over. I was pushed over the edge. Diving head first into a pool of pure pleasure. My body tingled all over, and I grunted as I felt my cock cumming inside of her.

  She leaned down on top of me, and I placed my arms around her, holding her into me. Her arms slid behind my shoulders, her hands gripping them from behind. She turned her head to the side and nuzzled into me.

  “That was unbelievable,” she said, her voice sounded sleepy and distant.

  “Yeah, it was,” I said and ran my hand up and down her back.

  I held her close to me, not wanting to let go. Because I wasn’t sure if she’d shut me out again if I did.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Paige

  On Tuesday morning, I woke up before Michael and had a chance to watch him as he slept in my bed. It was a novel feeling: I didn't remember ever having a guy there, the morning after, in my bed. Usually, I went to their place. Even if I did have a guy come over, he was just there for a quick fuck, and then he left. They never spent the night in my bed.

  I glanced towards the sheet separators and realized that Erica must be about five feet away, in her own bed. I blushed and looked at my phone to see what time it was. My eyes widened when I saw that it was after noon: Michael must be late for work. I nudged his shoulder, and he blearily opened his eyes. His face broke into a sweet smile when he saw me.

  “Hey,” I whispered, remembering again that Erica would be able to hear us. Maybe moving into his place wasn't such a bad idea, not if it meant that we could avoid awkward mornings after like this.

  Then again, that was an argument against moving into his place, wasn't it? I didn't want to avoid mornings after like this. There were meant to be mornings after like this.

  I was going to have to talk to Erica about all of it.

  Michael stretched and reached for me, pulling my body towards him. I shook my head, and he quickly released me, looking disappointed and hurt but quickly covering up that expression with a neutral one.

  “It's already almost one in the afternoon,” I told him. “Don't you have work?”

  Michael's eyes widened. “Shit, my alarm must not have gone off,” he muttered. But he made no move to disentangle himself from me or the sheets.

  I frowned. “Well?” I asked.

  He snorted and lightly kissed me. “I own the company,” he reminded me. “What are they going to do, fire me?”

  I didn't know what to say in response to that. Part of me argued that wasn't a very good work ethic. Part of me wanted to say something about how he'd better raise our son or daughter to be better than that.

  But I knew that wasn't what I wanted to say exactly. The only reason I thought that was because I didn't know how else to react. I didn't know how to get him out of my bed if he wasn't going to hurry off to work. We lingered there for a long moment, just staring at one another.

  Michael nuzzled my neck for a moment. “Why don't I make us some coffee?” he suggested.

  I thought again about how Erica could probably hear us. But then again, if I couldn't hear her breathing or moving around over on her side of the room, I had to conclude that she wasn't there. “All right,” I finally agreed.

  Michael gave me one last, chaste kiss and then slid out of bed, pulling on his boxer briefs and then padding out into the kitchen. I heard the coffee grinder start and thought about getting out of bed as well, but I was comfortable there. Besides, it was either chat here in my bed or out on the sofa. Either way, the talk was going to be uncomfortable.

  I grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and pulled it on over my head, figuring that I could at least be less naked for the conversation that was coming.

  Eventually, Michael returned, bearing two mugs of coffee. I reached for one and then froze as the scent of strong coffee reached my nose. I all but bolted for the bathroom, barely making it before the bile rose in my throat. I heaved over the toilet f
or a few moments, glad that I had pulled my hair back into a ponytail after pulling on the t-shirt.

  Finally, I managed to take a couple calming breaths and went back into the main room. Michael was sitting on the couch, and the coffee mugs were nowhere to be seen. “Are you all right?” he asked, standing immediately.

  “Morning sickness,” I sighed. “It's probably for the best: aren't I not supposed to be drinking coffee during pregnancy anyway?”

  Michael frowned and came over to me, gently brushing back some of my hair, where it had escaped its ponytail. “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, thanks,” I told him. “I'm okay.” I wasn't really, but I knew from the past few days that there was nothing to do but wait it out. I couldn't deny how pleasantly warm I felt at his concern. I knew there was still more for us to talk about after the previous night, but I couldn't help thinking again about what a good man he was.

  “I've got to get to work,” Michael sighed, but he continued to linger there in the apartment.

  “Go ahead,” I told him. “I'm probably just going to put on a movie and watch that until I have to go to The Shift tonight.” Surprisingly enough, I felt like I would, in fact, be able to work tonight. The previous night must have helped me more than I had realized.

  Michael lightly stroked my cheek and then bent in to kiss me. It was soft and sweet, and even though it showed just as much passion as the previous night's kisses, there was a surprising amount of tenderness to it as well.

  “I love you,” he said quietly. “I'll talk to you soon.”

  I stood there, rooted to the floor, as he took a step back, preparing to leave the apartment.

  Did he just say I love you?

  I could barely echo his words, even in my thoughts. Unbidden, my fingers crept up to trace over my lips, tracing the parts that had been touched by his kiss. It sent a zing through me, but it wasn't only lust this time. Instead, it was something deeper, something I didn't wholly understand.

  I couldn't say anything back to him as I trailed after him to the door, still trying to figure out what to say. The problem was, I didn't know what I felt, and his bold statement of his own feelings just left me feeling more adrift.

  Of course, he probably didn't mean it that way. He wasn't trying to be romantic, saying that he loved me. He was just… He was just what? I didn't have an answer. I felt lost, adrift, uncertain. I thought again about how he had asked me to move in with him. He had told me he didn't want a normal relationship, that he didn't mean for us to be something more. He just wanted to get me out of this place I shared with Erica, that was all. He wanted to make sure I was being taken care of.

  But I couldn't help but believe him when he said he loved me.

  I swallowed hard, and even though I still hadn't managed to say anything in response to Michael, even though he had turned, after exiting the apartment, to look searchingly at me, all I could do was shut the door in his face. I leaned against that door, trying to sort through my feelings, but they seemed to be sifting through my fingers.

  I had to talk to Erica, I realized.

  With single-minded focus, I headed to The Shift, intent on talking to my best friend. If anyone was going to make sense of this, it was her. She was the romantic, after all. She was the one who knew me best.

  “Michael stayed over last night, in case you didn't know,” I blurted as soon as I saw her.

  Erica froze and then frowned at me. “I've been staying with my new boyfriend,” she admitted. “I thought you had realized that.”

  I hadn't realized that, and suddenly, I felt like a horrible friend. I hadn't even known that she had a new boyfriend. “Sorry,” I sighed. “I've been so wrapped up in what's going on in my life lately that I haven't even stopped to think about what's been happening in yours.”

  “That's okay,” Erica said. “I didn't mean it that way. What's up?”

  I paused, but the words came rushing out before I could stop them. “He told me he loves me,” I admitted. “And he asked me to move in with him. He doesn't want this to be a normal relationship; both of us know that wouldn't work out. But he has a spare room, and he really wants me to have my own space. He wants his maid to take care of me, too.”

  I shook my head. “I know that it all comes back to the baby. He said he loves me because he loves the baby. He wants to take care of me because he wants to take care of the baby. But still. This isn't what I thought I was signing up for.”

  Erica frowned at me, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Are you sure that's all it is?” she finally asked quietly.

  I had to consider, for a moment, that wasn't all it was. What if Michael did love me? What if he was concerned about me, but for more than just his concern for his baby growing inside of me?

  “Do you love him?” Erica asked softly before I could deny anything.

  “Of course not!” I said automatically. But deep down, I knew that I did. How could I not, after all?

  I swallowed hard, wishing that I could tell her the truth. Wishing that I could ask her what to do. But it was up to me, wasn't it? I sighed and rubbed at my temples, and Erica gave me a knowing look. Fortunately, all she said was, “I want you to take it easy tonight, okay?”

  All I could do was nod in response.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Michael

  I couldn't believe I had told Paige that I loved her. I had been so careful, the previous night, to disguise my feelings. To tell her that I wanted her to move in with me but that it was just a matter of getting her out of her place with Erica. To tell her we didn't have to have a normal relationship. To make it seem like it was all about sex and taking care of her.

  And then, I had to go and tell her I loved her. The thing was, it wasn't untrue. I did love her. I had known for a while that I had feelings for her. But those feelings had gone beyond lust. I loved her. And I didn't mind admitting that, I realized.

  But Paige clearly hadn't wanted to hear it.

  I frowned, thinking back to her reaction. She had looked practically shell-shocked, and although surprise had been expected, I hadn't expected her to simply shut the door in my face. She had barely even managed to say goodbye. She hadn't said she was looking forward to seeing me again. She hadn't said anything.

  She hadn't said that she loved me too. Not that I had expected that.

  I sighed and rubbed at my temples, feeling a headache coming on. I didn't know what to think, and I didn't know what to do next. Should I show up at her apartment again? But I didn't know how to face her, on her own ground. In the same place I had told her I loved her. It set up too many expectations, carried too much weight.

  Instead, I headed to The Shift. If nothing else, maybe I could talk to Erica. Tell her what had happened and ask her for advice. I felt silly doing that, but then again, Erica was Paige's best friend. If anyone might know what to do, it was her.

  At the bar, though, Erica was nowhere to be seen. Paige was there, though. There, and flatly ignoring me. She avoided serving me, even when I sat down on her end of the bar. Instead, she served everyone around me and then got one of her coworkers to help me. I frowned, wondering what I was supposed to do.

  In the end, I waited until she went on break, and then as she slipped away from behind the bar and headed for the back storeroom, I caught her wrist and pulled her into a shadowed alcove, where it would be just the two of us, and we would have some semblance of privacy.

  I remembered what had happened the last time I was at The Shift, and I felt shame flush through me again. I knew that guy had deserved all the punches that I had been able to throw, but at the same time, I couldn't help thinking about Paige's fury, how she'd rebuked me for causing a scene at her work. I didn't want to make the same mistake again.

  “Paige, I don't understand what's going on,” I said, not even able to bother with pleasantries. It was as though now that I'd acknowledged my feelings for her, they were all spilling over, unable to b
e contained. The worry, the love, the confusion, all of it was right there in the forefront of my mind, unable to be forgotten or pushed aside.

  Paige raised an eyebrow at me. “What do you mean, you don't understand what's going on?” she asked. “I'm at work, and I'm treating you like I would any other customer.”

  “Except you're not,” I said impatiently, about to point out the way that she had been avoiding even looking at me. But then I realized how futile that was. She undoubtedly knew exactly what she was doing, and my reminding her of it wasn't going to help anything.

  I frowned. “I want to know how you feel about me,” I finally told her softly. “It's driving me nuts, guessing. One moment, it seems almost as though you have feelings for me. Like you're afraid to go through with this because you're scared of getting hurt. Like you don't want to be friends because you don't want to be just friends with me. But then you start avoiding me, and it's like you really don't have feelings for me. Like you'd be perfectly happy to have nothing to do with me ever again.”

  “That's impossible,” Paige snapped. “I'm pregnant, remember, and there's that stupid contract.”

  “That stupid contract,” I agreed, sighing. “I wish I'd never come up with this plan to start with. Only remember, it was you who came up with it.”

  “I didn't mean for this to happen,” Paige said, but for the first time, she didn't seem impatient. Didn't seem angry. If anything, she seemed at a loss, as though she didn't know what to do.

  I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her that I was sorry. To take her home and slowly make love to her and make sure she knew that I was telling the truth, that I wasn't lying, that I really did want her, and so badly.

  But she still hadn't admitted how she was feeling.

  She bit her lower lip, staring at the floor. “I don't know how I feel,” she finally told me.

  “Bullshit,” I said before I could stop myself. But when I thought about it, that was exactly what I wanted to say. “You know exactly how you feel for me,” I maintained, thinking of all the avoidance that she'd been doing over the past weeks. If I thought of it as her having feelings for me and being uncertain as to how to deal with them, it suddenly all made sense. I had a feeling she knew exactly how she felt about me.