Especially given the fact that it’s all a sham. I always assumed that when I got engaged it would be real and not a public ploy to save a wealthy client from his idiotic actions and keep him out of jail. How silly of me.
All I wanted was to win this case for my boss and keep my job, and I somehow ended up engaged to some macho billionaire playboy and committed perjury in the process, fantastic. I really hope that this isn’t the highlight of my career like Riker seems to think it is because if so, I’m definitely not going in the direction that I want to be.
I finish my coffee and shut off the TV in my hotel room, hoping that Nia hasn’t seen too much of it yet. I did speak with her last night and tell her that she might see my name in the news, but I told her not to pay attention to it and that we would talk about it later. That satisfied her for now, but I know that pretty soon she’s going to have some serious questions for me. I don’t blame her for being curious. Obviously, I’m more worried about the effect that this whole media storm is going to have on her, she’s just a child and I don’t want her caught up in all of this.
At this current moment though she’s safe, and I need to focus on the case and figuring out what our next move is. So I finished getting ready and head out the door to make my way over to the hotel that Riker is staying at, pulling my phone out as I leave to call Riker and let him know that I’m on my way over. Much to my annoyance he doesn’t pick up, but I’m not going to delay work just because he can’t be bothered to pick up his phone. I hail a cab and send him a text, hoping he sees it and makes sure that he’s ready.
We pull up to the hotel and I curse under my breath at what I see--a crowd of at least two dozen reporters and social media influencers all waiting outside with cameras. Clearly, they’re waiting for a glimpse of Riker and hoping that they can get a statement. I take a deep breath as I exit the cab, hoping to lay low. If I just casually walk up to the hotel they won’t notice me, right?
Wrong, I’m completely and utterly wrong about that.
The second I’m out of the cab they swarm me, pelting me with question after question while simultaneously snapping pictures and demanding a statement.
“Jane! Jane! Are you here to visit your fiancé? Any exciting breakfast plans?”
Of course I’m here to visit my ‘fiancé’ you dumb shit, why else would I be pulling up to his hotel?
I plaster my best ‘I’m happy’ smile on my face and open my mouth to respond, but I don’t’ get a chance. There are questions coming at me from all angles and before I can respond to one, there are three more.
“How did you two meet?”
“Are you one of his groupies that he decided that he wanted to keep around for good? How did you convince him to leave his lifestyle behind?”
“How did he convince you to stay after his behavior? Was there a gift exchange? Did he buy you an island? Rumor has it that he’s recently bought one, is that because you wanted it in return for his playboy-style weekend?”
Holy Hannah, these people are intense. All I’m trying to do is get inside, but the way is still blocked by the crowd of reporters, despite my efforts to get to the door.
“What advice do you have for other woman trying to land a billionaire husband. Are there any tricks of the trade?”
Tricks of the trade? What is she even talking about? And do women seriously make finding a billionaire husband one of their life goals? I can’t believe what I’m hearing and not only do I not want to deal with any of their bullshit questions, but I don’t have time for them.
I laugh lightheartedly and avoid a comment, making my way through the crowd as I nod and smile.
“Jane! Does he buy you nice things? I bet you’ve got a whole closet of designer clothes and jewelry from him!”
You know what lady, he doesn’t. But after all of this, I’m sure as shit thinking about making him buy me something to make up for all of this.
I manage to finally wade my way through the crowd and into the front door of the hotel—which is thankfully being monitored by security to stop the press from getting inside—and let out a sigh of relief, and I head over to the elevator and take it up to where Riker is staying-- the penthouse of course.
Once I get there and knock he takes forever to open the door, and when he does, I let out a scoff in disgust, shaking my head. His hair is everywhere, his shirt is wrinkled, I can smell booze on his breath and he needs to shave.
“Seriously, Riker?” I sigh, brushing past him and walking into his room. “You should already be dressed and ready to go by now. We need to head into the city to do our interviews. You need to shower and get ready.”
He looks down at himself and smirks, flashing me a cocky grin as he runs a hand through his hair, clearly quite pleased with himself, though I don’t know why.
“Oh come on, Jane. I look great! This look is in right now.”
I laugh and sigh, crossing my arms over my chest in disbelief. The fact that he does look quite handsome despite being a mess is both curious and frustrating to me.
“Oh really? And what look would that be, exactly?”
“I was going for ruggedly handsome.”
“Well if by ruggedly handsome you mean a complete mess then I’d say yes, you hit the nail right on the head.”
“Oh don’t be like that,” He chuckles, taking a step closer to me with that frustratingly charming smile of his, “You know that you’re attracted to me, don’t try and be coy about it.”
“I’m not.”
I am attracted to him, but I’m sure as hell not telling him that.
“You’re not attracted to me, or you are and you’re not being coy about it?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smirk on my lips, and I shake my head, chuckling.
“Riker please, just get in the damn shower.”
“Alright alright,” He concedes, laughing. “I’ll go and get in the shower and then we can head out and do our media pieces, since you’re my fiancé and all. You know what they say, Happy wife happy life. Would this make you happy, darling?”
“It would, actually.”
With that, he winks at me and strolls into the bathroom, tossing his shirt aside as he pulls it off and leaving me standing there while I wait for him to get ready.
I really should have had that second cup of coffee.
9
Riker
I seriously thought that throwing my shirt off before I headed to the bathroom would entice Jane to follow me in, but she didn’t take the bait. She’s definitely interested in me. I could see it in the way she was trying not to smile at all of my jabs. She must just be playing hard to get. No woman can resist Riker Lord.
If it wasn’t me, I almost wouldn’t believe that she agreed to pretend to be my fiancé. That’s some pretty serious shit! Of course, with my status, she’s bound to get the better part of the deal anyway, endless time with me and a step up the social ladder. What more could a woman ask for?
Damn, but if she isn’t a gorgeous woman, too! I can’t believe the firm sent her to bail me out. I was expecting some dried-up old suit, and instead I get a fucking goddess. All that creamy chocolate skin, those long legs, full lips, and ample breasts. My cock is getting hard just thinking about her.
I push the bathroom door to, but don’t let it click shut. She might change her mind and come join me. Turning on the faucet, I let the water heat up as I strip out of my jeans and socks. No underwear, of course. The easier the access, the better!
Steam fills the air, creeping across the mirror and giving a smoky, sensual feel to the room. I step under the hot spray and let the water cascade down my body, letting my head fall back. Closing my eyes, I reach down between my legs and grasp hold of my throbbing dick. My erection stretches and pulls as the pressure begins to build.
I turn around and grab the bottle of conditioner. Squirting a substantial amount in my hand, I rub it along the length of my shaft. Stroking, pinching, I groan as all the blood in my body rushes into my co
ck, and my balls pull uptight. I lean one arm on the cool tile of the shower wall and rest my head against it as I continue my ministrations.
I squeeze tight at the base before running my hand down and cupping my balls, pulling headily. Jane’s face appears behind my closed lids. I can see her breast in my mind, swollen and heavy, her nipples beaded to hard, aching nubs. My pace quickens as I run my hand up and down the length of my shaft.
My breath comes out in hurried gasps and groans as I imagine her breasts pressed up against my bare chest. I want to take one in my mouth, suck it in deeply, run my tongue across its hard point as she moans and begs for more. I want to run my fingers down the length of her smooth body and bury them deep in her wet pussy.
Imagining myself licking along her moist, sensitive folds, I nearly come undone. I bet she tastes like fucking heaven. My cock pulsates, throbbing to the point of pain as I imagine sliding deep inside of her, her muscles molding, stretching to fit around me. Would she be able to take all of me in one long thrust, or would she need me to go slow, easing my way in as her body adjusts to my size.
The door bursts open just as I’m about to come. I turn mid-stroke, raging hard-on standing at full attention, and pull back the curtain to see what the commotion is about.
“Hurry up Riker, we have to…” She stops mid-sentence, her words trailing off into a soft gasp of surprise. “Oh my,” she sighs, as her eyes glaze over and her jaw goes slack.
I stroke up and over, smearing the pearl of precum that is beaded at the tip of my cock. “We have to go?” I ask casually.
Her eyes shoot up to mine and a nervous laugh erupts from her lips. “Dear Lord, I thought maybe you were having a stroke in here from all the grunting you were doing.”
I laugh loudly, causing my dick to jump in my hand. “Not a stroke, but…stroking.” I look pointedly at my dick, massive and bulging, my fingers still wrapped tightly around it. “Maybe you’d like to help me with this?” I ask, letting the question thicken in the air between us.
Her nipples bead into razor points under the thin fabric of her blouse, and I swear on everything that is holy and good that she whimpers deep in the back of her throat. Her legs clench and her hands twist together in front of her.
When her tongue darts out, licking across her lips, I don’t wait for her to answer. I’m on her in a heartbeat. Pressing against her, lining my cock up with the warm heat between her legs. I wrap my arms around her and mold my mouth to hers, devouring every objection that might be waiting there.
I lift her up, wrapping my hands underneath her ass. Her legs fasten like steel clamps around my hips. She thrusts against me, grinding the sensitive space between her thighs hard against my erection.
A sexy moan starts in the back of her throat and I swallow it down with each thrust of my tongue. She meets me stroke for stroke, licking, sucking, as we drink each other in. She wraps her dark arms around my neck as we continue the sensuous rhythm.
I reach behind her blindly, running my hand across the counter to clear it of whatever nonsense sits there. Bottles, razor, toothpaste, it all comes crashing down around my feet as I set her on top of the counter. Right now, I don’t give a shit!
I pull away just enough to unbutton the first three buttons on her blouse. She reaches down and wraps a small warm hand around my dick, stroking tentatively at first, and then increasing her speed. I groan loudly as I free one of her breasts from the confines of her bra and suck it into my mouth.
“Oh god, Riker!” She whispers harshly. The sound of my name coming from her lips on a breath that’s full of need and desire scorches a path through me that leads directly to the aching member between her smooth fingers.
“Jane, I need you. Let me fuck you.” I trail one hand down her hips and into the liquid heat pooling at her core. I rub my fingers over her panties, across the seam of the lips that hide beneath, adding a slight amount of pressure near her clit.
She freezes. Her entire body goes rigid, and I’m just about positive that she’s stopped breathing. I pull my head back and look into her eyes. They’re filled with something that almost looks like terror, but that can’t be right.
“Stop,” she whispers, so lightly that I almost don’t hear her. She clears her throat and tries again. “We have to stop,” she says more firmly.
I untangle from her legs and step back a foot. My dick droops slightly, wondering what the fuck just happened, but still ready the second he has the go-ahead. Jane buttons her blouse and looks up at me.
“I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “I can’t do this.”
I can’t hide the shock that I’m sure is written all over my face. My dick bows down a fraction more. No woman has ever told me to stop before. Most women can’t wait to get in my bed.
“This can’t happen again,” she says firmly. “I’m your lawyer. I have a job to do. I don’t have the luxury of letting hormones and lust get in the way of that.” She bends down and slips on a shoe that must have fallen off at some point during our groping.
“I can respect that,” I say, surprising even myself.
She leaves the bathroom and I jump back in the shower, rinsing off quickly and rubbing one out. This hard-on wasn’t going away on its own, not after that make-out session. Hottest make out session of my fucking life!
I get dressed and then check my social media accounts. There are a shit-ton of positive comments, which is nice. Then, there are others that make my blood boil. Some assholes say that it’s a publicity stunt. And yes, it is a publicity stunt, but not for the reason these racist shitstains are saying. We’re not doing this because I’m trying to “court hollywood” and be “progressive.” We’re doing it because I was a fucking dumbass. The truth is, any man looking for something real would be lucky to find a woman like Jane. I mean, shit, I have to pay her an astronomical hourly wage just to get her to talk to me. It’s really hard for me not to engage the social media trolls. The only thing that stops me is the knowledge that Jane would be pissed at me for making her job even harder than I’ve made it so far.
Focus on the good stuff, I tell myself. I keep scrolling. People congratulate me on my engagement while others ask about starting a family. Some even compliment me on finding such a beautiful woman. People are really liking me again. This whole charade may just work after all.
10
Jane
Now that the story is everywhere, I’ve been getting a ton of attention online and out in the city. Everywhere I go, there are people wanting to take pictures or asking me questions. It’s all overwhelming, but yet, something is exciting about it. Riker makes sure I don’t get smothered by the paparazzi by hiring a few bodyguards for me. They are exactly like bodyguards you see in movies. They’re tall, wear black suits and glasses, and have bald heads. Their names are Jim and Tim.
The bodyguards come with us to New York, and they follow us close by in a black car while Riker and I take a limo. The limo is sparkling with colorful lights and even has a disco ball spiraling around.
The front of the TV studio is already swarmed with paparazzi, but the bodyguards escort us in without any problems. Once inside, we meet the TV host for Hot, Hot Entertainment Buzz, Dortha Fritz. She is an exceptionally tall woman wearing eight-inch heels that click quickly into the floor when she rushes to us. How she is able to run without breaking an ankle is beyond me.
Dortha wears a bright red dress that squeezes her waist, and I wonder how she’s able to breathe through that dress. Heavy layers of make-up mask her face, she almost resembles a clown. The most outrageous part is her hair. Dortha’s blonde hair is wrapped up in what I can only describe as if a tornado had somehow materialized into hair and can only stay still with the support of several diamond trinkets.
“It’s so wonderful for you two to come!” Dortha clasps my hands with her manicured ones. I’m sure with one misdirection, she can easily stab me with those nails.
“Thank you for having us, Dortha,” Riker says.
“Of cours
e, of course!” Dortha states with enthusiasm in her shrill voice. “Now, let’s get you two ready.” With a snap of her fingers, makeup artists made us sit in chairs while they did our makeup.
Dortha stands over us, looking so much taller now that we’re sitting.
“You two are going to look fabulous,” she promises. Her painted lips spread to a wide grin, revealing pearly white teeth so white that they can light up an entire room.
When that’s done, Dortha briefs us vaguely what she’ll ask us as we’re escorted to one of the smaller studios. She talks so abruptly that I lose track of what she’s saying, and before I can ask anything, Riker and I are sitting at a couch in front of a backdrop of the city.
A few hundred people sit several feet from us, and they all have excited expressions drawn on their faces. Suddenly, I feel sweat crawling at the back of my neck, and it doesn’t help that we’re also surrounded by a bunch of cameras. I turn to Riker, who appears calm and collected. He acknowledges me with a smile.
“You alright?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, though I’m not too sure myself.
Dortha settles herself onto the chair across from us, folding a leg across the other. She fixes up that mess of a hairstyle before leaning back into the chair with a great sigh.
“Are you two ready?” she asks.
“Yes,” Riker answers while I simply nod.
“Great!”
Soon, Dortha gets the signal that we’re on the air, and she immediately begins speaking:
“Hello, hello!” Dortha throws out her hand in the air. “Welcome back to Hot, Hot Entertainment Buzz, the show where I share the hottest things in entertainment. I am your wonderful host, Dortha Fritz, and today I’m sitting with billionaire playboy, Riker Lord, and his fiancée, Jane Gordon.”
A round of applause erupts, and Dortha claps too as she faces us. Her bright blue eyes are peering right into mine as if she’s able to freeze me still with her gaze.
The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée Page 4