by Eva Luxe
"I'm coming too," I tell him. I've lost track of the number of times he'd made me come. He twists my nipple with one hand and rubs my clit with the other while we both come together, him grunting guttural sounds and me moaning and crying out his name.
"Dr. Monroe, I want to be your slutty little patient forever," I tell him, when we're both finished but still feel pleasure coursing through us.
"I think you're going to be more than that," he tells me, with a wink.
And this is why I'll keep accepting appointments to be examined by Dr. Monroe. I never knew that having to go see the doctor could be so amazing.
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Enjoy this free preview of I (Pretend) Do: A Billionaire Fake Fiancé Romance
By Eva Luxe; Edited and Published by Juliana Conners’ Sizzling Hot Reads Press.
Chapter 1
Amelia
“Oh, fuck yeah, babe.” Jason’s murmured words send his warm breath across the skin of my neck, and my body responds, hips thrusting harder, pulling him deeper inside me. The bed frame rattles beneath us as I dig my fingernails into the skin of his chest, my body hurtling towards climax with each thrust -
And then Jason is looking me in the eyes, saying, “I have a surprise for you, babe.” The pleasure stops as the door to our bedroom opens and I hear a familiar voice. “Hey, Amelia. Watch this.”
Suddenly I’m standing against the wall, my place atop Jason taken by a different woman - Violet. Her dark hair cascades down her naked back as she turns her head effortlessly to smile at me, and I see the ecstasy in her eyes ripple down through all her muscles as she cums on Jason’s cock -
“God damn it!” For the third night this week, that’s when I open my eyes. I’m in my bed, alone, which has become my new normal.
I can’t seem to sleep a night without having some kind of awful sex dream about Jason. My hands stiffen, realizing that my own juices are dry on my fingers. Great. I guess I was touching myself while I was sleeping again.
Apparently I can’t even touch myself without thinking of Jason the Jagoff and Violet the…bitch. I really need to come up with a more alliterative title for her at some point. Oh well.
I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that they’re still in my head - I mean, she’s nothing if not eternally selfish and grabby. He dumped me on a Tuesday and was parading around with her on his arm by Friday. Jason always had to have the shiniest tool in the shed. I should have realized it when he got with me after dumping his ex only a week prior. At least he had been single when I met him, though, which is more than Violet can say.
Now they’re off with each other, and somehow I’m still the one getting fucked without any of the fun parts. Sure, she’s gorgeous, but her personality is ugly. She takes great pride in bragging about breaking up our relationship. Whoever can do that is no one with any character and I know it, even if Jason’s doesn’t know it— or care.
I tell myself that what goes around comes around and that he’ll get his in the end. Still, it doesn’t do much to soothe my still aching heart. I’m all for karma coming back to get people, but why the hell does it have to take so long?
I roll over and open my bedside table drawer. Even in the near total darkness, the diamond ring inside still somehow glints at me. Every morning for almost four months, I’ve looked at it and resolved that today is the day I’m going to sell it. But every night, there it still is. Every glint off its surface is like the mocking laughter of the popular middle school girls who pushed me in the mud during recess in the fourth grade.
I used to be under the mistaken impression that life had gotten better since then. I’d grown up, gotten a job and a fiancé and things were going well. Until they weren’t. Now I’m left wondering if I’m destined to repeat my depressing school days forever.
I slam the drawer and flop back down into bed. I think about trying to touch myself again, consciously this time, but I have a bad feeling I won’t be able to stop thinking about Jason no matter which handsome actor’s face I try to conjure up. The last thing I want to do is think about him while pleasuring myself during my waking hours, even if I can’t seem to help doing it while dreaming.
I nearly smother myself with my pillow and will myself to fall back asleep instead. Everything will be better in the morning, I think, even though I know that’s a lie.
Chapter 2
Amelia
Look in the mirror, Amelia, and realize that you look great. I tell myself this every morning in my ride on the elevator up to my office, and some days, I even do it. I try to speak positively to myself in the hopes that what I say will become reality. It was advice I received from a self help audiobook I listened to once. I’m not sure the advice always works, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to try.
In romance novels, women like me are always curvy, voluptuous, vivacious. In the real world, the phrases used to describe me are usually more along the lines of not my type, heavy, or just plain fat.
Today, these words don’t ring in my ears when I see my reflection in the full length mirror that’s on one side of the elevator. Today’s a good day, wardrobe wise at least. And I always think that dressing well is half the battle when going out into the world of love and war.
I’m wearing my favorite skirt, a sheer white one that ends just above my knees, paired with a deep blue blouse and a simple gold necklace to accentuate it. As I get off the elevator and walk to my office, the skirt sashays along with me.
So what if I don’t always feel sexy? I do today. Besides, lawyers like me are mistresses of the spoken word, not fashionistas.
The office is my safe place. Most of the time, anyway. I’ve been with Natti & Associates for almost 5 years now, long enough to earn a small private office of my own on the 13th floor of the building. I deal in Family Law - domestic disputes, divorces, and the like.
In retrospect, it feels like my career choice may have been a bit of laughable foreshadowing from the universe. It only makes sense that I solve other peoples’ relationship issues for a living, since I can’t manage to solve my own. Regardless, this is where I am, settling in to check my emails and enjoy my coffee and my once a week treat of an everything bagel with hickory nut cream cheese on top of it, when there’s a knock at the door.
“Oh, come on.” Bagel time is my time. Who’s up and running around the office this early in the day anyway? As soon as the door opens, I regret even asking the question.
“Violet.” Oh, right - did I not mention that the woman my fiancé ditched me for works in my office? For the same firm I do? Well, she does. And now she’s in my actual office.
“Amelia. Morning.” Violet’s got a smile on that’s only about half as fake as her artificially inflated cleavage, but that doesn’t really mean much. “Listen, I need the files for the Menendez divorce.”
“That’s in my caseload. Why would you need my case files?” I glower at her over my coffee cup, one eye still on my half-eaten bagel.
“Is it not obvious? Because it’s not your case anymore. Larry says the case is of ‘paramount importance,’ and I’ve got the lightest caseload in the office right now…meaning I have the most time to dedicate to such an important client.”
When I was a kid, my older brother used to make me watch wrestling with him. There was one wrestler whose gimmick was something called the “Curb Stomp.” I’d forgotten all about it, until just this moment - because right now, all I want to do is pu
ll that move on Violet.
But I’m an adult who likes not having a felony arrest record, so instead I dig in the drawer of the credenza near my desk and hand her the files. Besides, if there was any time to beat the hell out of her, it really would’ve been four months ago.
“Thanks.” Violet takes the files and, apparently uninterested in letting me keep one little shred of the morning’s dignity, adds, “You’ve got a little - something on your face there.”
As she leaves, I reach up to my face, and my fingers come away coated in a gob of cream cheese.
I do the only thing I can do: give my closed door the finger. And then I lick the yummy goodness off of it, of course. It would be a shame to let my once a week treat go to waste. Violet may have ruined my relationship but I’m not going to let her ruin my damn bagel eating experience, too.
Chapter 3
Amelia
“I’m telling you, we bribe the window washer!”
“The window washer.” It’s almost quitting time, and I’m sitting in my office with Rosa. Rosa’s my best friend, has been since I started here at Natti. She’s Hispanic, voluptuous, and has absolutely no filter.
This is our usual Friday afternoon routine - sneaking a drink from the “Cocktail Drawer” of Rosa’s desk, and shit-talking whoever’s on our bad side this week. For about 12 weeks now, that person has been Violet.
“Yes, the window washer!” Rosa’s hearty laugh fills the room. “See, you bribe the man to loosen one of the windows up on the 15th floor, and then you bump into her up there, just hard enough, and whoops, there it is! Like the song!”
“I think it’s ‘Woomp’ There It Is.” I kinda hate myself for knowing that. “And that got dark quick. Like, real dark.”
“Oh, come on! Last week you said we should dangle an engagement ring over an open manhole so she’d fall in and get eaten by alligators.” Rosa smirks at me.
“I mean…yeah. I did say that. But I was three cocktails in!”
“So, what I’m hearing is that you need at least two more cocktails.”
“No, no, no—” I wave her off, so she pours another for herself instead. That’s when someone knocks on the door.
“Ugh. It’s five o’clock! Who’s still here at five on a Friday?!” Rosa’s voice is a bit loud.
“Come in!” I call.
The door opens. “Sorry to bother you, Ms. Hope. You had a call come in and your voicemail is full, so I took a message…I hope that’s okay.” Cindy, our newest receptionist, looks like she wants to melt into the woodwork as she speaks.
She’s the very definition of a country girl in the big city: gorgeous, thin, blonde, and just a little bit clueless. But she’s already adapting to the work and making herself quite useful, so I think eventually she’ll fit in just fine.
“Thanks, Cindy. I’ll take it.” Cindy passes me the folded paper and turns to go, but not before I add: “Oh, and don’t worry about Rosa. She doesn’t really bite.”
“Unless you ask me nicely.” Rosa, suddenly flipping the sultry switch (the only one she likes more is the ON switch of her vibrator), looks at Cindy. “Then I might.”
“Um. Okay.” Cindy, blushing from the roots of her hair to her dimples (and I’m sure beyond), closes the door behind her.
“Rosa!” I chide her, half seriously. “Now the mail’s going to get misdelivered for a week because she’s too shy to come back. Besides, you have a boyfriend!”
“Yeah - but my boyfriend’s got a boyfriend too! I can totally snag a side-piece if I’m feeling it!”
“I admire your ability to wrangle all that, I really do. I couldn’t even handle one guy.”
“No!” Rosa’s voice is sharp. “Don’t you dare keep blaming yourself for what happened! We’ve talked about this. What’s the rule?”
“Whenever I put myself down outside work hours I have to do another shot.” I recite, not quite as upset as I pretend to be.
“That’s right!” Rosa proffers a shot glass, seemingly from out of nowhere.
I ignore her for the time being, opening Cindy’s note with the message written on it instead. I immediately wish I hadn’t.
“Jake @ Crystal Plaza called - confirming tour reservation for tomorrow @ 2PM”
I look up at Rosa. “I’ll take those shots now, I think.”
Chapter 4
Amelia
What’s so bad about the Crystal Plaza? Besides the fact that the whole place isn’t actually made out of crystal like I first thought (false advertising, much?), it’s one of the places that Jason and I considered for our wedding.
And apparently, it’s the only one I hadn’t remembered to cancel our tour appointment with. Because having to call every member of my extended family to break the news wasn’t enough, Jason also left me to cancel all our wedding planning plans.
I think over all this while staring into my martini glass for so long that it feels like my eyes are actual lasers that could cut through it.
“Amelia! Come back to me now, okay?” Rosa’s voice is a bit gentler. “You can’t let one little phone message sink you.”
“It’s not just the message…but the stupid thing certainly didn’t help. I just…it makes me feel so lonely.” I crumple the note and toss it at the trash can. It misses by at least two feet. I’ve never claimed to be any good at sports.
“It’s okay to be sad, you know that. And I’m not going anywhere. But it’s also okay to have some fun! Those tours always have tons of free stuff to try and entice you to choose them… you should go by yourself and cash in on some of that goodness!”
“A bride with no groom? Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over well.”
“Say he’s got the stomach flu! Oooh! Or that he’s home in bed because he broke his dick banging you too hard.”
“I don’t…”
Her laugh is loud and long. “Relax! I’m kidding. Ish. Listen, I know it’s hard - ”
“Sweetie, I haven’t had anything hard since Jason dumped me.” My smile is wan. Rosa’s, incredibly, widens.
“Okay, I’m proud of you on a few levels right now. An off color joke and some honesty? Very nice. So, that’s what’s really got you down, huh?”
I shrink in my chair a bit. “I dunno. I just feel stuck, I guess.”
“Well, I’ve got a cure in mind for that!” Rosa’s already on her feet. “Go home and change into something slinky, my darling. We’re going out tonight!” She proceeds to sing the chorus of Out Tonight, from RENT. It’s her favorite musical, so I don’t know why I’m even a little surprised.
“Ouuuuut to-NIIIIGHTTTTT. Bam!” The serenade ends with Rosa pointing at me, martini glass (somehow unspilled) in her other hand.
“Rosa! Off the desk!” She climbs down, and I try to figure a way out of this. “But I was planning another of my raucous wine and ice cream evenings in my sweatpants!”
“Come on. You just said you haven’t had any ‘fun’ for months! Time to change that up.”
My protests are half-hearted even to my own ears. “But Rosa. Ice cream. Sweatpants… wine!”
“All those things will still be in your apartment tomorrow night, Amelia! You know what’ll make enjoying them even sweeter? If a man is your main course!”
I’m blushing, but still. Maybe Rosa’s right. And I do have that new, black dress. It’s not quite slinky, but it’s as close as I ever get to slinky. “Okay. All right, I’m in. At least for some drinks!”
“That’s my girl!”
I don’t know it yet, but I’m about to get “in” to a lot more than just one semi-raucous night out.
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