Savage: A Bad Boy Fake Fiancé Romance

by Kira Blakely

  “Boy, you’re behind.” Chet grinned with pride and winked down at me, completely ignoring Andrew. “I tell you what, Michelle. If you win, I’m going to do something special for you in congratulations.”

  “Before or after your suspension without pay?” Andrew wondered innocently.

  “Not too worried about it,” Chet whispered with a wink. “Sheriff Langhorn knows there’s no such thing as unnecessary force with some people. Now, g

  ood luck out there,” he said, pointing to me as he trod to his side of the courtroom.

  The judge entered from his chambers but Andrew leaned over and hissed to me, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “And what would you have done?” I wondered coolly, coming to a stand for the judge. Andrew stood beside me and the trial began. It was an easy case, considering the evidence we had at our disposal.

  At one point, the judge asked me to define to him who Lola was. “The woman mentioned in the footage,” he noted. “Who is she?”

  “Mr. Bogart’s significant other,” I explained smoothly. No one could have guessed that there was a little throb beneath my sweetheart neckline.

  “Excuse me, your honor, but that’s incorrect,” Andrew said, standing. “Lola Haynes is my ex of five years, and no one of consequence in the discussion.”

  “Mm,” the judge grumbled. “Your legal aid needs to get her facts straight, then.”

  “I wish she would,” Andrew agreed. I scowled at him.

  The judge decried that Andrew was not guilty, and he opted out of countersuit. It should have been a giddy moment, filled with victory and pride, but it wasn’t. It was just another victory for another client, like the others. I’d still go home to the same old house and follow my evening routine.

  “They used to call me Honest Chet when I was a kid, but I guess it only applies to women,” Chet whispered, unsheathing a gleaming string of white pearls from a velvet slip. “Surprise.”

  “Chet!” I gasped. As a child, I had been even more girly than I was now, and I loved pearls most of all. Maybe I’d been right when I said that he knew me. Maybe he did. “How did you know that I was going to win?”

  “He didn’t,” Andrew seethed. “The pearls were yours either way.”

  “I knew you were going to win,” Chet insisted, looping the cool necklace around my throat and fastening the little hook. “Because you’re brilliant, darling. Pearls to match.”

  My eyes flashed to Andrew and I watched him seethe as Chet stepped away and marveled at the necklace dangling just above my breasts.

  “Marvelous,” he purred. “You’re the most beautiful girl in Pelham, Michelle Harper.”

  “You’re too kind,” I told Chet.

  “How would you feel about celebrating your victory over me tonight?” he wondered. “The first of many, I’m sure.”

  The mood dampened a little as I realized that the only honest answer I could give was no. I lightly unhooked the pearl necklace and let it dangle in the air, returning to him.

  “I think this might be a conflict of interest,” I said, proud of myself for slipping the noose so gracefully. The pearls tinkled into a puddle in his palm. “Thank you, though.”

  Chet accepted my rejection with a fallen face and left Andrew and I to gather our things. Andrew held every door for me as we exited the courthouse, spilling into bright afternoon sunlight and an elegant courtyard.

  “How’s your car doing?” Andrew wondered.

  My engine overheated last week and I still hadn’t taken it to anybody. I was determined not to crawl to Andrew for help. I’d taken an Uber to the courthouse and I was going to get around to fixing everything... eventually.

  “It’s fine,” I answered. If he wanted to walk me all the way to my supposed car, I’d tell him I was trying to conserve my carbon footprint. “I don’t need you to drive me anywhere, Andrew, but thanks.”

  He stopped and I glanced back at him, then turned and slowly sauntered closer. “What?”

  “It’s just been a long time since I’ve heard you say my name.”

  I smiled softly—saddened, in spite of everything—and said, “Then let me give you a few to hold you over.” I placed my hand gently against his chest and I could feel his heartbeat surging on the other side of his shirt. How incredible. I placed my lips close to his ear and breathed, “Andrew... Andrew... Andrew.”

  I knew how sexy it sounded and I did it anyway. I felt reckless, standing this close to him, wearing my pumps and my little wiggle dress, him in that suit.

  Andrew gripped my wrist hard in his hand and I gave a little gasp. “Get in my car,” he commanded.

  “Um,” I said. “Okay.” My Uber driver would be able to survive being stood up this once.

  I had to have known what was going to happen next, but I couldn’t say no. It was just like before when Chet told me all about Lola and Andrew and I fucked anyway, against my bookcase and on the floor of my office. I trembled a little as we drove back to Withers Community. I was like an addict who had broken the habit, and then, suddenly, found herself face-to-face with a little dust of her favorite drug. Would she be able to stop? Would she be able to say no?

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, I slid my finished martini across the bar, and Andrew scooped it up and refilled it, then slid it back. He had a bar in his finished basement, a man-cave that must have taken years of curation.

  This was like some roleplaying game. I thought he was going to fuck me as soon as I walked through the door—and I knew I would have let him—but he didn’t. He offered me a victory drink in his basement and didn’t come closer than a foot radius at any time. He hadn’t even accidentally brushed my hand once. He was playing the bartender; I was the patron. And the people we used to be, the people who had fucked each other, were just not involved.

  I felt a little ache as I sipped at my second martini.

  Maybe I’d been hoping he was going to grab my bun and rip it loose as soon as we crossed the threshold, like some kinky wedding night, but no dice.

  “How many break-ins have there been?” Andrew wondered as he sipped at his own tall, amber glass of beer.

  “Two,” I lied. “Or three.” I’m a terrible liar.

  “In a month? Why aren’t the police watching your goddamn house? What good is that chump, Chet, if he can’t do anything to help?” A vein stood out on his temple and my heart softened. Andrew was sweet.

  No, he’s not. He wasn’t sweet when he had Lola’s tits in his hands.

  Good point.

  “They say they’re not getting the alerts from my security system,” I explained. “I’m just going to get a new one when I can. On the bright side, though, you know, it’s just some teenagers or something, having a laugh. If they’re taking anything, it’s just little treasures that are personal to me. They’re not taking valuables.”

  Andrew leaned his elbows on the bar and his massive paw of a hand spread across mine. “Doesn’t it alarm you that they’re taking little personal items of yours? That’s the kind of thing a psychopath does.”

  I looked down at his warm hand on mine. “Um,” I said. If he wanted me to listen to him, he shouldn’t have touched me because now I couldn’t think about anything else. My head swam.

  “Stay with me,” Andrew coaxed. “Stay with me until you get your new security system.”

  “Andrew,” I chastised him, withdrawing my hand from beneath his and straightening my stance. “I can’t just move in with you. You know that.”

  “Why not?”

  “What would Lola think?” It fired out of my mouth and I couldn’t call it back—and did I want to? Didn’t I want to have this fight?

  “Lola would think that it was a completely normal thing for a man and his girlfriend to do,” he explained, his tone mild and slow, like he was teaching me, not fighting with me. “She knows about you, Michelle. And—in spite of me—she’s let a couple boyfriends move into her house in the past, too.”

  I furrowed my brow at
him. “She knows about me? I’m not your girlfriend, Andrew. I’m your lawyer.”

  His gray-green eyes darted away and he redirected his attention to his beer, idly running his fingers over that instead. “I know that. But when she first met you—at the wedding—I told her that you were my girlfriend.”

  At mere mention of that horrible moment, my stomach rolled and I realized I desperately did not want to talk about it after all. I just didn’t want to be with him. That was all. It was too much, and I’d already said I didn’t want to go back to caring. Wasn’t that still true? Wasn’t it truer than ever? I just wanted to work. That was my life now and I loved it.

  “Michelle,” Andrew said, and I felt the chilly kiss of his beer-frosted finger on my cheek. My eyes flashed up to his and held there. Every part of me was frozen except for my heart. I didn’t blink. I didn’t breathe. But my heart was going like a drum pedal. “I was looking for you. That was why I was in the church. But Lola—she was jealous. She never acts like that. She never wanted me again after she had me. That’s who she is. But when she saw me with you—”

  “She just had to have you again,” I said, “and you couldn’t resist her boobs.”

  “I could easily resist,” he insisted, “but you walked out when I was pulling her top back up! She was the one coming on to me. You have to believe me. There’s nothing between her and me. I’ve been alone all month. Before I met you, I was alone for five years. And—if you’re really done with me—” His eyes searched mine, wincing beneath their thick brows. “—I’ll be alone for five more. Don’t you remember?” He passed his hand back and forth between us, indicating something passing in the space. “You said never. I said never, too. Never.”

  God, he made me feel weak. My eyelashes drooped involuntarily, and I’m sure he interpreted that as a signal that I wanted to be kissed, even though I didn’t. I really didn’t. I needed to get out of here. I could walk. The fresh air would do me good.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath and closed my eyes. Andrew’s rough lips brushed against mine and I took a step back. My eyelashes fluttered back open.

  “You didn’t see it from my perspective,” I told him. I couldn’t kiss him. I couldn’t. He made a complete fool out of me; didn’t he get that? “It didn’t look like you were pulling her top up. It looked like you were caught.”

  Andrew winced. “Okay. You’re right. It looked really bad, and there’s no way I can ever prove that my version of the events is correct.” He sighed and his hands clamped over mine, completely blanketing them. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” I told him.

  “Then fake it.” Andrew’s eyes crinkled in a genuine smile. “Fake it until you can trust me. Steal my phone and go through my texts when I’m in the shower. Open my mail while I’m at work. I don’t care. Do whatever you have to do, Michelle. I’m honest. I’m a good man.”

  “No, you’re not,” I whispered. I was so sure of it. No one was good.

  But he was already crowding into my space when I said it, and my neck loosened, bending back, allowing him to slither into my comfort zone. His hands were on mine. My body felt loose and weak. I knew it was going to be a matter of seconds until I gave up, and that only made me feel weaker. I let go.

  “I am,” he whispered back, and his mouth descended onto mine, taking it hungrily and gently at the same time. I wanted to fight him but I couldn’t. I didn’t really want to fight him. I whimpered as his big hands scooped over my arms, setting off fireworks on every square inch that they touched, then rose to cradle my jaw and throat tenderly.

  My panties grew damp. Quickly.

  Our lips toyed over each other, half-kissing, as his hands skated higher and slid my chopsticks out of my bun.

  “Take it out,” he growled against my open mouth. His hands grated over my back and down to my ass, clutching hard, like he was trying to mold clay. I obeyed. I yanked the pins and elastic out of my hair and let them fall. They may as well have disappeared. My hair came down around my shoulders and Andrew moaned in appreciation, burying one hand in my hair and yanking my head to the side, exposing my throat, arching my breasts. He kissed deeply into the muscle of my neck, almost massaging me with his mouth, and slowly dropped to his knees.

  My capacity for remorse was obliterated. His hands slowly worked their way up my skirt, trapped against a black spandex and cotton blend as they crawled. He nipped at my pussy through my skirt and I laughed. His mouth was smeared with my lipstick now.

  “Fuck yeah,” Andrew growled, wedging his hand between my thighs and rubbing into my pussy through the nylon of my panty hose. “No panties. Someone was feeling bold this morning.”

  “I knew I was going to see you,” I breathed, dizzy now. Electricity seemed to jut from his fingertips and into me.

  “You’re lucky you made it out of the courtroom unfucked,” Andrew replied. My panty hose came down in one swift yank and he grunted with satisfaction, sending his hand back up my skirt, sinking two fingers between my sopping lips. My knees buckled and I leaned on his shoulder and on the hand pumping into me for support. His fingers were vigorous, tireless, and I was shocked at the intense heat expanding in my nether region. He was making me come with two fingers, no clitoris play, in a matter of seconds. Impossible. “I missed you so bad,” he said, working me hard. “You’re always so wet for me, Michelle. Always so wet under your little skirts.”

  “Oh, Andrew....” I shuddered and balled up against him, pussy clenching and drenching his hand as I came in a startling wave. It only lasted about five seconds, like a miniature earthquake, and when it was over, I pulled myself up straight and gazed around the room like some furniture might be knocked over.

  “That’s it,” Andrew grumbled, pulling his hand out of my skirt. He seemed almost angry as he stood, glaring me down hotly. His hands went to the buttons on his white dress shirt and he worked quickly to flick them open, one by one exposing his immaculate chest. “Take off your dress. Now,” he commanded. The dress shirt hung open and he whipped it off and threw it to the ground. His pants unzipped and unbuckled next, sliding down his powerful thighs, into a puddle on the floor. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his staff stood fully in the air, hard and dark.

  God, I missed him, too.

  Chapter Eleven

  Andrew

  I was so hard, I was legitimately afraid that my dick was going to rip like the Hulk.

  I undressed in about seven seconds flat, heart pounding and hands trembling slightly. All I could think about was putting myself between her vanilla thighs. I wanted to make her melt and lick her up.

  Michelle stared at my cock for a moment, then reached for the zipper that ran down the side of her wiggle dress. Why did she wear that thing to court? What did she think was going to happen? The zipper peeled slowly down, exposing a stripe of pale bare flesh.

  I shook my head at the mere sight of it. “Faster.”

  She wiggled loose from the dress but before she could kick it away from her legs, I was on her breasts, smothering myself between them. I groaned and grunted and I wanted to touch every inch of her. My hands slapped down over her juicy ass, digging my fingers into her and hoisting Michelle into the air. She shrieked in surprise as I carried her to the bar, dress still dangling from her ankles, and deposited her onto its surface. Now we were perfectly level.

  “Move in with me,” I said again. I had to make this girl listen. “It’ll be safe with me. You’ll see.”

  Michelle blinked at me with those doe eyes behind cat glasses, her hair all over the place, and a halo of faded lipstick around her mouth. I loved seeing her like this. She always started out so prim and proper but give me a few minutes with her and watch the transformation. “You just want to piss off Chet because you hate him, and you know he has a crush on me,” she postulated.

  I grinned. She was good. “I do hate Chet,” I admitted. “But this is all about you. Think about all the free car maintenance you can
get. All the improved security with a man around the house. Oh, and the sex. Think about the sex, Michelle.” I traced myself over her labia to remind her, and even that tiny gesture, skating between her velvety folds, brought my blood pressure to boiling. I couldn’t even tease her without crumbling myself.

  “I don’t know,” Michelle waffled, biting her lower lip like a coquette and cupping her breasts in her hands. I’d noticed she had the habit of doing this whenever she felt insecure. “It’s probably too much sex, and I know how you love to come inside me. I’m probably pregnant as we speak.”

  “I hope so,” I growled against her ear, and I meant it. I felt her tremble at the words and I slid the tip of my dick into her. We shuddered together, and I moved in and out, in and out, penetrating only an inch or two. “I can’t stop coming inside you, Michelle, so don’t even ask. I love the feeling of getting bigger and bigger, and popping... filling you with so much cum that you can feel it.”

  “I can feel it,” Michelle whispered back, and I knew she loved it, too. I knew it. I clamped my jaw tight and closed my eyes, letting them roll back into my head as I slid completely into her. I wanted more foreplay but I couldn’t resist. Her walls twisted around me and I groaned deep in my throat. My hands came up to cup her plush, firm breasts, and I realized there was something that I needed to do. I amazed myself by pulling completely out of her again.

  The world outside of her pussy was fucking frigid. I hated it.

  “Lay down on the bar,” I instructed her.

  Michelle bit at her lower lip, but she obeyed. I climbed on top of her and positioned my hard prick between her tits, letting it slide into her airtight cleavage. The sensation was nothing like her pussy, the way it would grip and milk me, but it was still so hot. She moaned and pressed her tits tighter together and I thrusted and thrusted until I felt a tingling at the tip of my head. Then I pulled away.

  “Did you like that?” I wondered as I climbed off the bar.