Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance

by Jamie Knight

  I unzipped my jeans and took out my cock, the throb getting to be too much to bear. It wouldn’t stop until I relieved the pressure.

  I started to stroke the shaft as I imagined repositioning Maggie, laying her out on her back, and burying my face between her sweet thighs, partaking in her beautiful cunt, making her squirm and moan in pleasure while she drove her fingers through my hair.

  Kissing my way up her belly, I imagined stopping off at her massive tits, giving them some tender loving care with my lips and tongue before moving up to her neck and then her mouth, sliding my dick into position as I went.

  When she couldn’t stand it anymore, I would press the head of my cock up against her warm and wanting hole.

  I pictured her in my mind’s eye. I loved her feminine curves and her gorgeous smile.

  Continuing to stroke my shaft, I imagined stroking Maggie’s pussy with my hand, keeping her excited and soaked. When she was ready, I would shift slightly and ease deep inside her, causing a long moan to emanate from the depths of her soul.

  Moving slowly, I imagined starting to pump, inching deeper with each thrust, until I was almost all the way to the hilt, picking up speed as she got used to my width and length.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Hot cum spurted over my hand, and I blew out a raspy breath.

  I couldn’t wait to do this for real with my fake fiancée.

  And, if I had my way— which I fully intended to, because I always got what I wanted when it came to women, although Maggie was the only woman I had wanted this bad, ever— we would do it again, and again, and again.

  Chapter Eight – Gavin

  It was odd, how quickly or slowly a week could pass. It could feel like either the longest or the shortest amount of time in the world. On a much-awaited vacation in Hawaii, seven days hardly seemed like much.

  Banged up and sitting in a jail cell, on the other hand, could make it feel like an eternity. Don’t ask me how I know. Let’s just say I had my share of fights back in Ireland. It came along with the nature of being from a fucked up family and having to defend my father’s honor, or lack thereof, as well as from chasing away any bullies of my younger brothers.

  Now, though, time was passing as a sort of combination of the two variables, which I guessed would be something like waiting in jail for a Hawaiian vacation.

  I couldn’t wait to see Maggie again, but waiting was exactly what I had to do. Since it was for such a good cause, I did my best to take it in my stride, hoping that the waiting would make the actual event all the sweeter from the anticipation.

  I had sped home from the meet and greet with the cast of the sitcom I’d been cast on, Flogging Molly blasting on the car stereo all the way there.

  Still humming “The Devil’s Dance Floor,” I went to my bedroom to get changed.

  When I came over from Ireland, I’d only brought jeans and T-shirts. But once I arrived, I realized that wouldn’t cut it in some circles, so I decided to “invest in my future” by blowing a chunk of money on a bespoke, tailored suit.

  Even after all that fuss and bother, though, I had only worn the bloody thing twice since. The third time’s the charm, as they say.

  It wouldn’t quite make up for the money I’d spent, but if I could help show up Maggie’s evil ex and Raquel the Revolting at their own engagement party, it would still be worth it.

  I stared at my watch, willing time to go faster so I could go pick Maggie up. It worked about as well as asking the tide not to come in, but time did eventually get there of its own accord.

  I was fairly sure I left a vapor trail behind when I ran out of the house to the car. I turned on the ignition, and Flogging Molly picked up right where they’d left off.

  During my whole drive to Maggie’s place, I was sure that tonight would be the beginning of something special.

  Once I arrived, I tried to calm myself lest I break the button, pushing the buzzer for Maggie’s apartment and awaiting her reply.

  “Hello?” came her sweet voice through the intercom.

  “Your chariot awaits, darlin’,” I said, bowing deeply, even though I was sure she couldn’t see me.

  “I’ll be right down,” she told me, sounding clearly as excited as I was.

  “I shall await your arrival with bated breath,” I said, keeping up the pseudo-Shakespearian hoo-ha and laying on a comical Irish accent.

  I thought she would like it, and they had made us learn Shakespeare in school, so I figured I might as well put it to some good use.

  “You look great,” she said as she came through the door, seeing me in my bespoke finery.

  I didn’t say anything in return. I was far too busy returning my jaw to its proper position after lifting it up off the ground to pretend to speak in Shakespearian bedazzlement anymore.

  My gaze fixed mostly on the mid-section of the dress Maggie wore, particularly the lacy bit on her torso. The effect was only reinforced by the fact that her hair hung in loose curls.

  I had no idea how long it was, reaching easily down to her waist. The only mechanism of control that she had added to her hair was a thin silver wreath of tiny metallic leaves encircling her head. She looked like a mythical goddess.

  Suddenly I felt grossly underdressed.

  “You like it?” she asked, doing a spin, setting the skirt whirling about her and giving me a tantalizing glimpse of her bare legs.

  All I could do was nod in stunned, mute appreciation of her unspeakable beauty. To try and pay tribute with mere words would be to sully the very endeavor.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to my car.

  Her flowery perfume wrapped around me, leaving me even more stunned.

  Momentarily, I stood stupefied, hand over the cheek she had kissed before sharply slapping the other to make damn sure that I was indeed awake. Giving my head a good hard shake, I followed Maggie to the car, my eyes fixated on the gentle, hypnotic sway of her hips.

  I didn’t know how I would get through the next few hours without ripping her clothes off.

  As I drove us the short distance to the party, I tried to keep my eyes on the road, even though I wanted to keep them glued to Maggie’s hot body and beautiful eyes.

  She commented favorably on my music, which was a big plus, and we sang the lyrics together as if we had known each other since high school— which would have been impossible because we grew up in different countries, not to mention the fact I was older than her.

  Still, it seemed we had known each other for longer than we had, somehow.

  I decided to ask her about something while it was on my mind.

  Turning the music down, I ventured, “Does it bother you that your fake fiancé is quite a bit older than you?”

  “Oh, come on. It’s not like you’re ancient. I’m guessing you’re not much older than thirty,” she said, smiling and– dare I presume– blushing.

  “Good guess. I turned the big 3–0 on my last birthday.”

  “Nine years isn’t a huge difference. I like the thought of everyone thinking that I’m marrying someone so much more mature and… more experienced than I am.”

  Her cheeks were definitely turning an even darker shade of red when she said “experienced”– there was no wondering as to what exactly it was that she was thinking about. And my cock jerked at my own thought of showing her just how experienced I was. But I told myself to keep it under control because we were almost at the party.

  I had been a bit worried about asking that particular question, but now I was glad I had. Not only had I found out that the age difference between us didn’t bother Maggie– hypothetically, of course, as a fake fiancé, at least– but I had also gotten her to admit that she even liked the idea.

  She turned to face me.

  “Tell me more about you. Tell me about your life in Ireland.”

  “Oh, let’s see. When I wasn’t acting, I worked in construction to pay the bills. I was in Game of Thrones. Winterf
ell was filmed at Castle Ward. Not too far from where I grew up. Then there was The Vikings. I was also in The Fall with Jamie Dornan.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Shut up. I love him.”

  I chuckled.

  “Everyone does. Great fella. Salt of the earth, as they say. I was also in a show called Dublin Murders, and I had a twenty-episode arc in a soap opera called Fair City.”

  “Wow. Nice. What made you decide to move here?”

  I shrugged.

  “It was now or never. I figured I had nothing to lose.” I glanced in her direction. “And so far, it’s turning out to have been a great decision. One of the best ones I’ve ever made.”

  ***

  Once we arrived at the party, I saw that it was just as fancy as Raquel had implied. The mansion was huge and ornate.

  “Valet parking, seriously?” Maggie remarked as we came to the end of the mile-long driveway. “Her dad obviously spared no expense for his princess.”

  Uniformed valets and tuxedoed security guards were moving back and forth in front of us.

  “Names?” asked a woman in a black pantsuit after she had walked up to the window of the car.

  “Maggie Sanders, plus one,” Maggie said, leaning over me.

  “Oh, here you are,” the door matron said, after flipping through some pages on her clipboard.

  She followed that up by speaking into her gamer-style headset.

  “We’ve got another one coming through.”

  At her order, we drove into a makeshift parking lot. When we stepped out of the car, a valet jumped into the driver’s seat like a carjacker, barely taking time to retrieve my keys and give me a token that would let me pick up the Prius when we were done.

  “Shall we?” I asked Maggie, crooking my elbow in a chivalrous way.

  “Let’s.”

  “She’s done well for herself,” I said, trying to be charitable as we walked up the literal red carpet toward the tent erected in the garden.

  “Her dad paid for it. He’s richer than God and dumber than a sack of hammers. I never really knew what my mom saw in him. She’s not a gold digger, but maybe she saw him as a kind of security blanket. Thank God she finally saw sense and divorced him. Moving to Florida and away from him was the best thing she ever did.”

  “Eventually, we all wake up and realize the mistakes we’ve made,” I told her. “Well, if we have any level of self-awareness, that is.”

  “Yeah.” Maggie sighed. “Kenny was my mistake. But I least I woke up. If I hadn’t discovered him with Raquel, I’d still be asleep at the wheel and may never have realized how awful was capable of being.”

  “Definitely don’t beat yourself up over that,” I said, squeezing her hand and liking the way she squeezed mine back. “You had no reason to think he was capable of something like that, until he did it.”

  “True,” she said, seeming to feel better about it as we walked around.

  I had to hand it to the designers: the inside of the tent was amazing, looking very much like a ballroom, though one with a translucent room with a view of the night sky. There were no chandeliers, for obvious reasons, but there were several well-placed candelabras.

  Of course, there was a wooden floor lest her ladyship and her guests actually come into contact with filthy, brutish nature.

  That wasn’t an attitude I particularly understood. I’d grown up in a city as well but I also had always gone out into the country at every given opportunity, driving every inch of the coastline to partake in the world’s finest supply of green rolling hills and breathtaking scenery. It made no sense to me why anyone would ever be afraid of nature.

  Everyone in attendance was fancy, what we would have called a “toff” back home. No one was looking out of sorts or out of place. All looked completely at ease in the elegant surroundings.

  Even so, several of the guests did a double take when they saw us coming, causing the the attention that had been on the happy couple to be momentarily broken. Maggie was simultaneously beaming and blushing, which only made her look all the more radiant.

  All the men’s eyes took her in from head to toe. Part of me wanted to pound my chest with pride.

  Everyone wanted her, and yet she was mine.

  Raquel’s face soured, and she shot us several dirty looks as we whirled around the dance floor. She probably wasn’t expecting us to be so good at it.

  My father may have been a useless lump of nothing, but my mother, God rest her soul, was a different story. She made sure we were polite, knew which knife and fork to use, and how to take the lead on the dancefloor. And, if the occasion called for it, we could Irish Dance better than Michael Flatley.

  Maggie and I did so well with our attention-grabbing gambit that there were several occasions during breaks that Raquel tried to entice me to dance with her. I was always nice, never directly insulting her, but still making it clear that I wasn’t interested.

  And it wasn’t just because I knew how evil she could be. The simple truth of the matter was that I only had eyes for Maggie.

  Then things took a turn for the worse. Following her fifth attempt to cut in, Raquel stormed over and ranted at Kenny. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I knew it wasn’t good.

  I didn’t think any more of it, though— that was, until Kenny went over to Maggie as soon as I had left her side. I was sure that he thought I couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t know that I had exceptionally good hearing— a MacBride family trait that had been passed through the generations.

  “You can’t bullshit me,” he snapped. “No way a guy like that is really interested in a cow like you. He must have no money or self-respect at all because you clearly had to pay for him to come with you and pretend to be your fiancé. You can’t bear to see Raquel happy, so you’re doing your best to upstage her.”

  “Hold my beer,” I said, passing my half-finished bottle of Guinness to a slender young socialite immediately to my right.

  Like a superhero, I swooped in, taking Maggie into my arms like a knight of old and kissing her passionately. It was a bit of a risk, but I could tell by how she responded that the feeling was mutual.

  “Sorry, darlin’, I just saw you over here and couldn’t help myself.” I pressed a chaste kiss against the tip of her nose and turned to face Kenny. “I should really thank you?”

  He sneered, and his nostrils flared.

  “For what?”

  “For cheating on Maggie with her stepsister. If you hadn’t, she and I would never have met and fallen in love. Fate has a funny way of making things happen, doesn’t it?”

  Kenny stormed off, clearly too pissed off not to believe the veracity of our love.

  The thing was, it was actually beginning to feel real.

  I didn’t know that I was quite ready to propose for real, but I was definitely falling deeply and madly in love with the shy, beautiful girl in the head-turning dress.

  I wanted to go so much further with her than a kiss, passionate as it may have been.

  I could feel that Maggie agreed, especially by the way she had kissed me back and was currently trembling in my arms— not from cold or out of fear but in pure, loving desire.

  This night wasn’t turning out exactly as I thought it would.

  But Maggie was in my arms and letting me kiss her with abandon, so that was all that mattered to me.

  In that sense, this night was turning out just as well, or even better, than I could have possibly hoped or dreamed.

  Chapter Nine – Maggie

  I wanted Gavin so badly that I could taste it. He had done such a good job of playing my Prince Charming that I was pretty much in awe of him.

  I knew somewhere in the more cynical part of my mind that it wasn’t real— not in the way that it appeared to all the guests at the party, of course— but there was something there.

  Something like undeniable, underlying chemistry made me want to tear my clothes off and jump on him.

  That was an urge I had
n’t had in a long while.

  “You didn’t have to kiss me,” I told him. “Just to make a point, I mean.”’

  He gave me a sheepish smile.

  “It wasn’t to make a point. Not entirely, anyway.”

  “Oh, well, I’m glad we’re on the same page there. It’s awful, but I felt kind of good seeing that look on Kenny’s face. He can be such an asshole.”

  “How long had he and your sister been shagging?” Gavin asked, making me giggle with his phrasing.

  I never thought I’d be able to laugh at what happened, yet here I was, chuckling about the absurdity of it all, thanks to Gavin.

  I sighed.

  “I don’t know. But after facing reality, my best guess is that he’s been shagging my little sister behind my back since she turned eighteen. I guess less than a year.”

  His eyes widened at that piece of news.

  “Raquel is only eighteen?”

  “I know. She looks older, right?”

  “Aye, she does.”

  “She was an early bloomer. And she’s never been short of male attention. Even after our parents divorced, I tried to protect her as much as I could. Keep her from doing anything too stupid. As far as I know, she never went all the way with any of her boyfriends, so that’s something, I guess. But maybe she was up to way more than she had let on. Perhaps she was just pretending to be good while really being very bad. It hit me hard when I came home to get my notebook and found Kenny pounding her in my bed.”

  “Aye, I can see how that might be disconcerting,” Gavin agreed.

  My lips twisted, and sadness filled my heart.

  “I haven’t been the same since, honestly. I had to get a job as a personal assistant. I would much rather be following my passion of writing, which I was doing pretty well at, for a while, but it never really covered all the bills, and I haven’t been able to write the same since it happened.”

  “I think I get that.”