Weekend Wife: A Fake Fiancée Romantic Comedy Standalone

by Erin McCarthy

  As he made a sound in the back of his throat, I yanked his shirt out of the front of his pants. I needed to touch all that hardness. He seemed to feel the same way. As we kissed, he eased my sweater up and caressed across my stomach and waist, exploring. I was trying to undo a button on his shirt with zero luck.

  Grant broke off our kiss and eased back slightly, releasing my hand finally. Propped on his side, he said, “Here,” and just yanked his shirt off over his head without unbuttoning it. The top button gave way and went pinging into the wall. It dropped between my mattress and the wall.

  “Oh, shit, your button,” I said, even as I was greedily running my hand under his T-shirt to feel what his suit had hinted at. Hard abs? Check.

  “I have other shirts.” He reached over his head and gave the same treatment to his T-shirt. He just hauled it by the neckline up and over. He tossed it in the general direction of the floor. “Your turn.” He took the bottom of my sweater and yanked it up. I lifted my head and shoulders up so he could fully remove it.

  I was wearing a very practical bra because it was comfortable, gave full coverage, and was mostly seamless under my tight uniform sweater. It wasn’t unattractive, just not exactly enticing. I had very average-size breasts, which I appreciated. Not too big, not too small. Grant cupped one, his large hand covering the entire thing. Either they were smaller than I had realized or he had some big-ass hands.

  Then again, I tended to date artists, musicians, and baristas, and they were predominantly thin, with long fingers, but no strength. Grant was by far the most filled-out guy I’d ever seen naked. In person, anyway.

  He teased at my nipple with this thumb through the fabric of my bra before lowering his head and skimming his lips over me. I felt a deep tug between my thighs. He was barely touching me and I was so completely turned on I was contemplating begging him to get this train rolling a little faster.

  Grant bit my nipple.

  I gave a startled cry. Not because it felt bad but because it felt good. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  He glanced up at me over my breasts. “Too much?” Even as he spoke, his reach was behind my back undoing the bra and removing it.

  I shook my head as he took down the straps and sent my bra sailing into the air. “No. Not at all.”

  “Are your roommates home?” he asked, his mouth hovering my nipple.

  I could feel his breath teasing over my flesh as he spoke. I shook my head a second time. “No. They’re at work.” Thank God. I didn’t need questions about who Grant was and where this was going.

  It was going nowhere but one and done. One opportunity to experience what it was like to be with Grant and then we could go back to waitress and customer.

  Or maybe not even that, given he didn’t actually like breakfast food.

  “I’m glad we’re alone, because you’re going to be screaming,” Grant said.

  That was more than a little arrogant. I gave a little scoff. Just because I’d been hot for him for months didn’t mean I would spontaneously orgasm. He needed to put some work in. “Prove it.”

  The smile he gave me made me instantly shiver. Whoa, boy. That was some wicked, smoldering arrogance right there. That was a man who liked to win.

  Yay.

  “I’m not a man who walks away from a challenge.” Grant reached behind me and grabbed another of my pillows, this one fortunately a solid gray. He lifted my leg and rested my swollen ankle on it. “Lie back and relax.”

  My flirty retort died on my lips when he took my nipple into his mouth and teased over it with his tongue. Good start. Not worthy of screaming, but a solid beginning. He rolled the other nipple between his fingers.

  “I’ve pictured licking maple syrup off your nipples more times than I can count,” he murmured.

  Oh, my. I thought about him eating, staring at his plate, no phone out, no book. Now I knew why. It was incredibly sexy to think I had inspired contemplations. As he flicked his tongue over my nipple I actually pondered if I had any syrup in the apartment. No, none. That would be a mess anyway. “I always thought you were meditating.”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Then he stopped using his mouth for speaking.

  He licked, he sucked, he consumed my nipples, my tits. He spent just enough time on one area that I would start to moan and arch into his touch, then he would shift to a different part of my body. It was driving me crazy, though I refused to admit it. The scratch of his beard only increased my arousal and the sensitivity of my skin.

  When he shifted, and kissed me again, it wasn’t urgent. It was languid, exploratory, suggestive of further things to come. As he took my mouth, he ran his palm over my nipples, increasing the ache that I had for him. For more.

  He was in no hurry. Nor did he seem to need me to touch him, though I had at one point started gripping his biceps so I didn’t float off the bed to the ceiling. It wasn’t long before I was digging my nails into his warm skin.

  Grant’s attention to my tits, to my neck, to my mouth just went on and on until I started to shift restlessly. I hadn’t made out this long since high school and my lower half wanted in on the party.

  Just when I thought I might actually orgasm just from his kisses alone, he pulled back.

  Staring down at me, his expression intense, he gripped the fabric of my skirt and hauled it up past my thighs, never breaking eye contact. His thumb ran over the front of my panties, very lightly, very briefly. He slid them off.

  Then Grant Caldwell the third got what he wanted.

  Because when he bent down and gave my inner thighs the same, slow, purposeful attention, I started to pant. Then moan. I said his name at least twice.

  And then, as his tongue worked me feverishly and I came, hard, I screamed.

  It might have been words. It might have been a single desperate plea to a higher power. It might have been nothing more than a scream inside my own head, but I shattered so fully and completely that I lost all sense of anything other than my own body.

  When I finally came back down to earth and stopped trying to bury my fingertips into Grant’s biceps, I took a deep breath and pushed my hair back off my face.

  Grant raised his head. He ran his hand down over his jaw, his green eyes darker than usual. “You taste better than maple syrup.”

  Goose bumps rose on my heated flesh. He went on his knees and undid his pants.

  He shoved them down and I knew that I had been right to crush on him.

  The man had been gifted with a perfect package.

  Eight inches of come to mama.

  He pulled a condom out of his pocket and I pondered karma and the irony of having to get hit by a cab in order to finally have a piece of Grant.

  Then he shifted over me and I forgot to think at all.

  Because that first thrust inside me had my eyes rolling back in my head.

  Chapter 3

  “Fuck, Leah,” I said, as I sank deep inside her wet, welcoming body. Her almond-colored eyes were closed, her dark hair spilling over the white of her pillow.

  She was absolutely gorgeous and I was dick-deep in trouble.

  Because there was no way in hell I had been able to resist Leah.

  I wasn’t even sure why I had tried.

  What the hell was it about her? I’d been with plenty of beautiful women. Supermodels. Pop stars. Socialites. It wasn’t hard to find companionship when your family was rich as sin and you have a reputation as a coldhearted perennial bachelor. Women saw me as a challenge. That somehow, they would be the one woman who could make me forget all about my vow to remain a bachelor. They pulled out all the stops, working hard to impress me. Until I didn’t fall in line with their plans and there was either tears or wine glasses being chucked at my head.

  It was a pattern. Maybe not a healthy one, but what the fuck was I supposed to do? I didn’t start the fire, so to speak. Just doing my thing.

  But from the first day I’d walked into that diner, in honor of my childhood nanny, and spotted Leah mo
ving quickly with confidence and a perky smile, I had been unable to get her out of my mind. It brought me back week after week and it was driving me insane because I couldn’t figure out why. The only reason I could come up with besides her physical appearance why I was drawn to her was that she seemed… happy. Positive. Adorable.

  There didn’t seem to be an angle to her, nor did she seem to particularly resent her job waitressing while she was struggling to make it as an actress.

  My nanny, Rose, would have said Leah had good juju. That’s what it was. She had good energy.

  More likely, I was bored with the same old same old. I wanted to taste a different flavor.

  And as I moved inside her, the taste of her pussy still on my tongue, I wasn’t sure why the hell I hadn’t acted on this sooner because Leah was fucking perfect.

  Her full raspberry-colored lips were slightly parted, and each time I buried my cock inside her, she gave a soft little moan that turned me on even more. “Open your eyes,” I told her, wanting to see her desire.

  Her fingers were on my biceps and she dug in at my words, deep. Almost like a warning. She did open her eyes but she shook her head slightly. “So damn bossy. You need someone to teach you a lesson.”

  “You can punish me later,” I said. “Right now, I want to see you when I’m fucking you.”

  Her eyes widened and she gave another one of those soft groans as I eased in and out of her. It had been a decade since I’d had sex on a twin bed, but while there was no room to maneuver, it also created an intimacy between us. Her legs were resting on the backs of my thighs and my hands were splayed out on either side of her head. Nothing fancy. Just two people moving together in pleasure.

  “What do you see?” she asked, before biting her bottom lip in a way that made my cock harden even more inside her.

  Leah’s legs squeezed tighter around me and her eyes were glazed. Her nails were pressing hard into my flesh and her entire body was arching up toward me, questing more.

  “I see a woman who is about to come. Either that or she’s an incredible actress.”

  “Oh, I’m an amazing actress,” she said, her voice breathy. “But… I am about to come. You’re right about that.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut briefly as she panted, then she opened them and locked eyes with me. “Oh, God, Grant…”

  I both felt it and saw it the moment she went over the edge. Her inner passage gave a little squeeze to my cock and her mouth flew open on a sharp cry.

  It was a total turn-on and had me following right behind her.

  I thrust harder, faster, until I was gritting my teeth. Her twin bed was creaking as I exploded.

  Damn. It was intense, and super fucking satisfying. I let out a deep sigh as I came to a rest, leaning my weight a little on Leah.

  “That was fun,” she said.

  I nodded. “To understate it, yes. That was definitely fun.” I ran my thumb over her lip before giving her a soft kiss. “You’re amazing.”

  “You’re enjoyable yourself.”

  Rolling off of her, I tried to find a place to go but the bed was too small. I was on my side but there was nowhere for my arm to lie but right over her chest. My leg was crushing hers. And I could basically eat her ear if I wanted to. It was hot in the tiny room and I wasn’t going to last long in this position. The intimacy of sex retreated to crowded, but it was more amusing than annoying. “This bed was not made for two people.”

  Since my hand had nowhere to go but on her tit, I teased at her nipple just because I could.

  She actually picked my hand up and moved it off of her nipple and down onto her stomach. My wrist twisted at an awkward angle. I didn’t want to move too soon to get out of the bed and look like a complete dick, but this was not enjoyable cuddling. It was like trying to spoon in a car trunk.

  “Grant.”

  “Yes?”

  “You need to get off of me. I’m so freaking hot right now.” She gave my arm a gentle but firm shove. “Seriously, get off.”

  I gave a laugh. “Damn. No problem. But there is nowhere for me to go, you do realize that. I’m crammed against the wall. So you have to get out of bed first or I’ll have to climb over top of you and if I do that, you’re going to find yourself with me inside you again.” There was no way I could slide over her soft and sexy body and not want another taste.

  “I’m not opposed to that.”

  I liked the sound of interest in her voice. “I thought you were hot. And you wanted me off of you,” I said.

  “Don’t twist my words around. Those are two totally different things.” Then she picked my hand up yet again and returned it to her nipple.

  That was all I needed to get hard again. I wasn’t sure how the hell I was going to do a condom switch though. I’d have to fish my pants off the floor and that might risk shattering the mood. Besides, I was ninety-five percent sure that had been the only condom I had. Not as prepared as I would like to think I was. I decided to just focus on getting Leah off again. That would be satisfying as hell.

  I gave her a slow kiss as I shifted over top of her. “How is this? Are you getting hot?” Skimming my hand down her soft naked body, I eased a finger inside her. She let out a little sigh of pleasure.

  “I’m very hot. And if I’m going to be this hot, I might as well have an orgasm.”

  “Sounds efficient to me.” I watched her face as I stroked, testing what angle and speed brought out the most positive reaction from her. Leah was expressive, which wasn’t surprising given her chosen career path.

  It was easy to see when I hit the sweet spot. Her back arched, her hips fell apart, and she gasped, her eyes widening. “Very, very hot…” she murmured.

  Working with a steady rhythm, I moved in and out of her, retreating to skim her clit, enjoying the way she started to move her hips in harmony with my finger.

  “I thought…” she said, words trailing off as she reached for me, trying to find my cock. “You were…”

  “I don’t have another condom.”

  “Don’t let that stop you.” Leah’s arm shot up behind her and she fumbled around. When I was about to ask what the hell she was doing and tell her hell yes, not having a condom was definitely going to stop me, she pulled her hand back out from under her pillow.

  She waved a condom at me.

  Oh, fuck, it was akin to a matador waving a red blanket. I paused with my finger inside her, not wanting her to come if I was being given another opportunity to do more. “You keep condoms under your pillow? I’m damn impressed and grateful as hell.”

  “It’s a small room,” she said. “Storage is at a premium. Besides, it’s convenient.”

  I took the packet from her. “You’re the wisest woman in the world.”

  She laughed. “Calm down.”

  “No.” I did what I needed to do to switch the condoms and I cupped her cheek as I tasted her lips. “I can’t calm down when your naked body is inches from mine.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me that Grant was intense in bed. I only had to think about the way he ate his pancakes to realize that the same single-minded determination would apply to sex as well. He made eye contact consistently. He watched me, and adjusted his strokes based on my reaction.

  He had pulled my left leg up, holding it against his chest, so that this time when he thrust into me, it was even deeper than before. I didn’t think I could get any more turned on, but yep. He proved me wrong.

  It was ridiculously stuffy in my room but I didn’t even care. It felt right to be in a confined space, warm skin on warm skin, nowhere to spread out, the ceiling low. It made it intimate, sensual, especially since it was midday. There was no sense of light or time in my small room. There was nothing else but these few stolen moments of mutual pleasure.

  My orgasm took me by surprise. It just slammed into me when Grant hit just the right angle and I cried out, hands splayed across his muscular chest. “Yes, that’s so good.”

  He squeezed my ankle convulsively
, his expression fierce as he followed me with his own explosion. “Damn,” he breathed.

  Grant sat back and put his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath. “That was hot as hell. Leah, you’re the best waitress I’ve ever had.”

  That made me laugh. “I try to be accommodating.”

  “I’ve been accommodated to within an inch of my life.” Grant rubbed the back of his head, which gave me a view to die for.

  He was all glistening muscles and manly beard. Strong thighs and ripped biceps. He didn’t have any tattoos that I could see, but that didn’t surprise me. He was very Wall Street, despite the beard. It seemed to be his only nod to being under thirty-five.

  “What?” he asked, eyebrows rising.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just checking you out. You wear naked well, Grant.”

  “So do you.” Grant stretched his arms over his head and swung his legs around. “I need to see what time it is. I have a meeting I can’t miss.”

  I couldn’t even blame the lack of hang-out space in the apartment. Even if I had a full living room and a kitchen crammed with snacks, Grant didn’t seem like the settle-in-for-the-day type. Which was totally fine. I wasn’t even sure I’d want to have him linger. It had been perfect, just the way it was, and I didn’t want to risk tainting that in any way. I didn’t want expectations of any kind.

  “I understand. You can take a shower if you want.” He would look like King Kong in a Tardis doing it, given the small scale of our shower, but he might enjoy some cold water.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I’m going to run home for a new shirt so I can jump in the shower there.” Grant had jumped down and was scooping up his clothes and tossing them on the bed so he could get dressed. He gave me a grin. “I seem to be missing a button.”

  I suspected that button was somewhere under my bed lost in a pile of dust. “Sorry about that. But not really,” I said.

  “You don’t sound at all sorry. But I forgive you.” He gave me a dirty smile. “Because I’m not sorry either.” He pulled on his pants and shoved his arms in his sleeves.