Pretend I'm Yours: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Ella Miles

  The whole time I’m taking him in, he doesn’t move. His expression never changes. I’m used to men at least smiling at me, but he doesn’t.

  He’s older. I know that much. He has lines around his eyes that hint at him being older than me. I have no idea how much older though—maybe ten years, if I had to guess.

  He’s intimidating.

  His eyes don’t shift from mine until the bartender returns with our drinks, and he reaches into his pocket to hand the woman his credit card.

  I glance at the bar and see two glasses of wine sitting in front of us.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  He nods and takes a sip of his wine. I do the same. As soon as the liquid touches my lips, my whole attitude toward this stranger changes. The liquid is amazing. No, it’s better than amazing. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. It puts the Cosmo I had the other night to shame.

  “This is delicious.” I hold up the wine to my lips and take another sip.

  “Good,” he says, seeming satisfied with my response.

  I curiously look at him. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I’m like every other person on the planet who likes to drink and occasionally gamble his money away while looking at boobs.”

  I smile bashfully when he says boobs even though he isn’t talking about mine. Mine are completely covered up, if you can even call what I have boobs.

  He, on the other hand, still hasn’t cracked a smile.

  “I meant…” I shake my head. I’m not going to ask.

  “I’m intrigued by you. You’re beautiful, yet I detect a bit of insecurity in you for reasons that don’t make sense. You are obviously intelligent, if you are able to count cards, but you are used to your beauty helping you to cover up that intelligence, just like you did with your card counting. You seem sad, yet you’ve chosen to come to one of the most alive places on the planet. You have every reason to be confident, yet you act like a scared, innocent little girl. I’m just trying to figure out what you are doing here.”

  I narrow my eyes at his rude comments. How could he have formed such a strong opinion of me in such a short amount of time? “Thank you for the drink,” I say as I stand. I’m not going to sit here and listen to a stranger insult me, not tonight.

  He grabs my arm as I get up. “I didn’t mean that as criticism.”

  “Seems like it to me,” I say cautiously as I stare where he is still holding my arm. I feel the heat transfer from his body to mine where he is touching me. It feels overpowering, like everything else coming from this man.

  “Let’s try again. I’m Killian. You seem like a nice girl. I would love to hear over another drink how you became so good at blackjack and hopefully get some tips because I sucked back there.” This time, after he speaks, his lips curl up slightly.

  It’s not quite a smile, but I can tell it’s pushing it for this man.

  I smile brightly, hoping that if I smile, he will, too.

  “I’m Kinsley,” I say, extending my hand.

  He shakes it like it’s a business arrangement. I suck in my breath at his touch. His handshake is powerful and strong. It’s practiced, like he has shaken a million hands. I bet he can close business deals with just the strength of his handshake.

  “And I would love more wine.” I take another sip of my wine, finishing it off.

  He nods to the bartender this time, and she immediately comes over to him even though the bar is now full, and it’s not our turn to be served.

  “Another?” the woman asks him, smiling brightly.

  He nods. She winks at him before she goes to retrieve our drinks.

  My mouth stays open. “How did you do that?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Order drinks?”

  “How did you get her attention like that? Are you a regular or something?”

  “No. Bartenders just know where their biggest tip lies. And that’s with me.”

  I nod although I’m not sure if that’s completely it. He definitely has the sex-appeal thing going for him. And the intense almost lust-filled look he gives would make any woman say yes immediately.

  I find myself wondering what it would be like if he asked me to go home with him tonight. How different would it be from Brent? I shake my head, getting that thought out of my head. I can’t have sex with this man—not that he is asking me anyway.

  The bartender places our drinks in front of us. I immediately grab the glass and bring it to my lips to taste the sweet, smooth liquid again. I moan quietly as the liquid pours down my throat. The taste is magical. I’ve never had anything like it.

  “My father.”

  His eyes find mine, but he doesn’t say a word.

  “My father taught me how to play blackjack.”

  He nods.

  “He taught me how to count cards.” My cheeks flush slightly from admitting that to him.

  I think I see a hint of a smile forming, but I don’t know how to keep that smile on his lips. I don’t know how to flirt and show him that I need a distraction.

  “He’s dead,” I blurt out. Then, I wait. I wait for the, I’m sorry. I wait for the, Is there anything I can do for you? I wait for the, How are you doing?

  This is what I get instead, “Let’s get out of here.”

  My eyes widen. “What?”

  “We are leaving.” Killian stands from the bar and begins walking in the direction of the hotel rooms.

  I laugh. He’s got to be kidding.

  When I glance at him, I realize he’s not. His face is stoic as he waits just a couple feet from me to follow him.

  “What?”

  “This isn’t what you need.”

  I laugh again before I glance back up at his eyes. “How do you know what I need?”

  He walks to me until his body just grazes mine. His eyes stay on mine as his hand tucks my hair behind my ear. His hand doesn’t stop there though. It trails down my neck as he pushes my hair back until he is gently holding the nape of my neck. My breath catches. Shivers form all over my body. An ache for more forms in my belly, but I don’t let my need show. A complete stranger can’t turn me on this much. It took Brent most of the night to get me this filled with lust. How has this stranger done it with barely a touch?

  I watch as he bends down. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips move inches away from my neck so that I can feel his hot breath there. I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

  “Your body tells me. Your eyes are begging me to kiss you,” he whispers into my ear. His deep voice causes fluid to soak my panties. “You’re wet.”

  I suck in a breath, proving him right.

  “You want me to take you to my hotel room down the strip and fuck you until you scream.” He moves away from my neck. “That’s what you need.”

  He cocks his head and grins for the first time. It’s a beautiful sight, and it’s a side of him I doubt he displays often.

  I nod, and he smiles brighter.

  “Come,” he says, holding his hand out to me.

  I blush at the double meaning of the word. I bite my lip as I debate on what to do. I reach for the phone in my pocket, but I let my hand fall to my side. My father isn’t here to guide me. I have to decide this one on my own. And my body is begging me to go with this stranger. I have no doubt that he will know how to handle my body.

  But I can’t. I tried it once, and I ended up puking alone while my father was dying.

  “I ca—”

  His lips stop me from speaking as his tongue slips into my mouth in one motion. The kiss is long and slow. His tongue takes complete control. When he breaks from the kiss, I’m panting, unable to catch my breath.

  “Come with me. You need this.”

  I stare at him, still panting hard, while I try to decide if he is a serial killer or not. Based on that kiss though, I’m not sure if I care. I would die happy, kissing this man.

  I grab my glass of wine and down the last few drops, hoping the liquid will ca
lm my nerves. It does.

  “At least let me take you to get another bottle of your favorite wine.”

  “It’s not my favorite.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I turn back to the bar, expecting him to order another glass of wine.

  “They’re all out.”

  “I doubt it.” I try to flag down the bartender, but she won’t stop for me. I sigh.

  “Don’t trust me?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He flags her down. “Another round,” he says without glancing at her boobs.

  “I’m sorry, sir. We are all out of that wine. Can I recommend another one?”

  “No, thank you, Clarissa.”

  My eyes grow wide at the mention of the bartender’s name. Her name tag sits across the left side of her blouse just above her cleavage. So, he did check out her boobs.

  “Come split a bottle of wine with me.”

  “Maybe,” I say. I can’t help but smile. I need this. I need to have one night to sleep with whomever I want before I never get to choose again. I need to finish what I never got that night.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Killian’s hotel room is impressive. It’s one of the most impressive hotel rooms I’ve been in, and I’ve been in a lot. It’s large and spacious, and it has more rooms than any hotel room should. It’s also in the Felton Grand, one of my family’s hotels. I didn’t want to come here yet. Not so soon after my father passed away. Not when this is the place that I would miss him the most. But I didn’t want to tell Killian the truth when he brought me to this hotel, so I came.

  I shake nervously as I watch him pour two glasses of wine. The nerves at least keep me from thinking about my father. He hands me my glass of wine, and he takes his and sits in a chair next to me. I hate that he is sitting there. I want him to sit next to me. I want him to kiss me. I want him to sleep with me, like he promised.

  Instead, he sits, patiently watching me, as we both sip our wines.

  “What do you do?” I ask, trying to distract my nerves.

  “Do you really want to know? Or would you prefer, when I make you come, you don’t know anything about me? That way, when this is over, you can go back to whatever you are running from without any attachment.”

  “How do you know I’m running from something? Maybe I’m just missing my father.”

  “You are.”

  I just nod. I don’t know if he means, I’m running from something, missing my father, or both.

  “What about you? What do you do?”

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk specifics.”

  “No. I’m not going to tell you about me. The more you know, the more it’s likely that you will get attached.”

  God, why am I here when this man keeps insulting me? I frown. “I won’t get attached.”

  “No?” He raises his eyebrows.

  He’s probably right. If I fall for this man, it will only give me more of a reason to run from whomever my father and grandfather have chosen for me.

  “Fine.” I sigh. “But I don’t want to tell you about me either.”

  If I don’t get to know anything about this man, he doesn’t get to know anything about me.

  He nods and takes a slow sip of his drink.

  “When are we going to…” my voice says shakily.

  “Fuck?” he says, finishing my sentence.

  Wine slips from my mouth at how easily the word rolled off his tongue. He probably says fuck daily. He probably fucks daily. I’m never going to live up to the girls he’s had before. I try to push that thought out of my head. He chose me, for whatever reason. And he doesn’t have to know how inexperienced I am.

  “Come here,” he says, motioning for me to come to him.

  I place my glass on the coffee table and walk to him. When I reach him, he remains seated. So, I stand awkwardly in front of him. I fidget with my hands, not sure what he wants me to do.

  Killian chuckles a raspy deep chuckle, like he hasn’t used his voice to laugh in a long time. His hand grabs my wrist, and he pulls me hard onto his lap.

  He strokes my cheek. “Don’t think, princess.”

  I try to listen to his words. I try not to think as his mouth kisses down my neck, leaving warm, wet tingles. I can’t help the tears that begin welling in my eyes. Of all the terms of endearment he could have chosen to use, I can’t believe he chose the one that reminds me of my father, the one nickname my father always used to call me.

  When he sees my tears, he softly kisses them with his lips before licking up the salty liquid with his tongue.

  “What’s wrong, princess? We don’t have to do this.” He tucks my hair back behind my ear before his hand softly rubs my back. “I just thought you might need it.”

  “Why did you call me princess?”

  He smiles weakly at me. “Because you are one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re beautiful.” He softly kisses my hand. “You’re intelligent.” He kisses my other hand. “You’re used to being taken care of.” He softly kisses me on the cheek. “You’re a little too sweet and naive.” He kisses the other cheek. “Your clothes are simple yet expensive.” His kiss brushes softly on my lips. “You should be worshipped.” He runs a hand through my hair. “You’re a princess in every sense of the word.”

  I smile at how intuitive he is. He’s picked up a lot about me in the short amount of time we have been together.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay, you can call me princess.”

  He wipes tears that are still visible on my cheeks. “It’s going to be okay, princess.”

  I suck in a breath as he grabs the nape of my neck and kisses me hard on the lips. I moan as his tongue massages mine. His kisses are deep and intense. His kisses are full of purpose.

  I hold on to his neck as he kisses me. I’m too unsure of what to do with my hands to do much else even though my hands are tingling to rip off his jacket and buttoned-down shirt to see what lies beneath them.

  Instead, he lifts me and carries me to a room with a lavish bed covered in throw pillows. I land softly among the pillows. I watch as he removes his jacket and carefully places it over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. He removes his tie before he unbuttons the top couple of buttons of his shirt.

  I watch as he climbs over me, but his body doesn’t touch mine. My heart pounds erratically in my chest as I stare up at the beautiful man above me. I squeeze my hands into fists to prevent myself from running my hands all over his body.

  He squints his eyes at me before he takes my hand and presses it against his chest. “You can touch.” He smirks at me.

  Killian leans down and kisses me again, hard. It’s so hard that he sucks all the air from my chest. His hand slides up my shirt, massaging the exposed skin of my stomach. His eyes open occasionally to study my reaction when he takes everything a step further, but he doesn’t slow down or hesitate. The intensity of his stare is there every time he opens his eyes.

  I let my hand slip into the opening of his shirt to feel his hard chest, but I don’t let my hands explore beyond that. His hand mimics mine, except his moves with more confidence and surety. I gasp when his hand expertly finds my nipple beneath my shirt. He slowly rubs the peak between his thumb and finger.

  “Don’t think, princess. Just feel,” he whispers into my ear.

  This time, I do what he says. All I feel is the intensity building inside me. He releases my lips, and his tongue instead finds my other nipple as he lifts my shirt up.

  “Oh, wow,” I moan when he flicks his tongue over it.

  “You’re beautiful, princess.”

  His words barely register. I can’t focus on anything but the sensations on my breasts.

  His hand slips down my pants, and my heart rate increases in anticipation. He takes my pants off in one fluid motion, and then I’m exposed. My shirt is lifted high above my breasts, and my pants now lie in a pile on th
e floor while Killian is still completely clothed. Why the hell is he still clothed?

  When his mouth sinks lower until his tongue touches my clit, I no longer care that he is still clothed. All I care about is that he keeps doing that.

  “Oh my God!” I moan louder than I probably should.

  I feel his mouth curl into a smile, but his tongue never leaves my clit.

  “God, don’t ever stop whatever the hell you are doing.” I breathe fast as he swirls his tongue faster and faster over my bud.

  When he sticks two fingers inside me, I almost lose it.

  “Killian!” I scream as he stretches me.

  The sensation is beyond words. His fingers seem to completely fill me. I can’t imagine how it will feel to have his cock pushed deep inside me. I can’t imagine him being small.

  His fingers move faster inside me as his tongue moves in rhythm with them.

  “Come for me,” he commands in between thrusts inside me.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moan as I come, just like he commanded.

  His fingers slowly and reluctantly move out of me, but I can’t move. I’m too exhausted.

  I just came on a man’s fingers while his mouth tasted my juices. That’s a first. I’ve had sex before, sure, but no man has ever made me come before. Maybe that’s why I never went to seek it out. If I knew orgasms could feel better than the ones I give myself with a vibrator, I would have sought out men who could give orgasms like Killian sooner. I wonder if he is as good at making a woman orgasm when he’s thrusting deep inside her.

  “Be right back, princess,” he says. He gently kisses my lips. It’s a stark contrast to the kisses he was giving me just moments earlier.

  I sigh for the first time in a long time, feeling relaxed. I close my eyes as I wait for him to come back. I don’t bother with covering my naked body. Modeling has taught me not to be shy about my body, and I want more.

  When Killian comes back, I’ll be brave. I’ll show him what I want. I want him to fuck me like I’m sure he has with countless women before. I want to feel slutty and dirty. I want to feel wild. For the first time in my life, I want to fuck a complete stranger.