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Hannah
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His Fake Fiancee Damien
HANNAH POPS THE HOOD, lifting the green metal high above her head. The tractor she works on is a mechanical beast, with wheels the height of her chest and stairs leading up to the driver's seat.I bury my hands in my pockets, balancing on the balls of my heels. I'll admit it. This place is impressive, a true man-cave that must be the dream of most middle-aged men. Metal signs hang high on the walls of the garage, spouting recognizable names like Ford, Coca-Cola and Shell. They appear to be retro, much like a truck in the corner, with its rounded edges and small wheels.Through the windshield, glossy seats stand out in the interior that was clearly refurbished by someone who knew what they were doing. Another car sits beside the truck, cloaked in mystery by a protective sheet draping over it, offering a vague outline of its exterior. The only other clue given is the shiny red paint left uncovered in one spot near a tire.Hannah... the mechanic? I quirk my brow, a smile creeping on my l
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
"I AM NOT DOING THAT."HANNAHDamien's face is so red it might shoot off his neck like a rocket, which would be amusing if I hadn't just dumped all my childhood trauma on him."It's not as bad as it seems." I snap the blue latex gloves against my wrists. "And besides, this is the last thing on our list, and you have Bessie, who's the easiest to milk."I drag my stool across the dry hay, positioning it beside the dairy cow's feet. Before I sit, I run my hands along the side of my cow, its brown fur tickling my fingers through my gloves."Hannah, I'm drawing a line." His hand waves around, scrunching the gloves he holds between his fingers. "I'll pick up chicken crap and eggs and get dirty with a tractor, but this... this is too far.""I've been going easy on you." My eyebrows lift to my hairline. "It's either this or the pigs.""Pigs?" He whirls, appearing awkward in his boots as he clomps around the stall. "Oh, no.""Oh, yes. Now—pig or cow? Choose wisely."He huffs a sigh, sliding on
His Fake Fiancee Damien
THE GUESTHOUSE IS QUAINT, with a partial kitchen connecting to a modest living room. A couch and two recliners surround a grizzly bear rug and a fireplace that even I admit is nice.Why? Let's see... Wooden logs crackle from its cage, smoke funnels out of its long-tubed top, and its flames keep the place perfectly cozy. Oh, and Hannah's in front of it—On her knees.Naked.The evidence of her arousal slides down the inside of her thighs, glistening against the flicker of the flames."Touch yourself."I lean back on the couch, watching her listen to my command from across the room. When her petite hand dips between her folds, I grip my cock. I'm completely free of the clothes I decided not to wear after our shower.Her eyes dance back and forth between mine and my proud erection, lying flat across my lower abdomen, nearly reaching my belly button."Good girl." The praise is thick on my tongue as I stroke myself from base to tip.I bite my lip—hard—watching her flick her clit with her p
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
THIS IS HUMILIATING.HANNAHTwisted, delicious humiliation.I slide my leg another inch, the movement rubbing intense friction against my clit. I hold back a whimper, knowing it would only satisfy him further.He wants me to beg. For him to fuck me.It was—is—in our contract, and I even signed it. Because it seemed harmless, at the time. Surely, I wouldn't sleep with this man again, after knowing him to be my ex's brother. Better yet, I wouldn't think I'd sleep with him, knowing all our interactions and flirting in public are fake.But now the lines smear beyond recognition, unable to be redrawn. I don't even know what's fake or real anymore. Except the way he smiled, laughed and allowed me to open up to him today in the barn... That was real and nearly lifted my heart from my ribcage. I'd never seen him so free. A rare glimpse into such a complicated man.The living room seems so small. I bite my lip as I take another step and avoid his intense gaze, looking down at the ground. Until
His Fake Fiancee Damien
HANNAH'S A FUCKING GODDESS.And it's my only intention to worship her.She eyes me softly, the glow of the fireplace shining an orange halo behind her head. Her hands whisper down my body, starting at my chest and working their way along the harsh ridges of my core. She doesn't say a single word, and I can hardly breathe as she studies me.I wonder what she's thinking, what she thinks of me. I wish I could scoop deep inside her consciousness, only to pull out its mysteries.Touching her palms to my chest, she pushes me back into the couch as she lowers herself over my cock. But she doesn't put me in. Her pussy lips wrap around the base, her wetness warm on my skin."Grind on me," I grit out between clenched teeth."Like this?" She leans forward, her slickness sliding along my shaft as her breasts sway a breath away from my face.Fuck..."Yes, like that."She sways backwards, slipping along her way. I rest my head on the back of the couch, unable to watch her any longer. But her soft h
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
I CLUTCH DAMIEN'S ARM, nerves pricking at me.It's been two weeks since our weekend getaway at my family's farm,and I've come to terms with the fact that what we did in that guesthouse was borderline unholy. And ever since, not only have we been doing it, we've been doing it often, with my wails growing louder in the penthouse each night.But even more surprising than that is the way Damien has changed. His flirting has increased tenfold, but so have his smiles. It's almost like being with a newly reformed man, who doesn't have work and stress and duties crawling up his back like spiders."There's nothing to be nervous about," he purrs beside me. He's the calming presence between the two of us as we walk across the marble flooring. "You look stunning.""I'm not nervous," I lie.The Bass family estate is beyond immaculate.The minute John dropped us off at the front porch, I spotted more Rolls-Royces and other supercars than I could count. Nausea sweeps over me then, remembering how
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
I TURN the faucet handle to the very right, letting the cold water splash against my hands. I'd hoped it would ease my rattling mind that's working like a beehive in overdrive. Too many resurfaced questions. Too many people watching us with whispers under their breaths.The ballroom bathroom looks about how I expected. Porcelain sinks curve around gold spouts, and tall marble stalls reflect at me through the mirrors with glittery heels poking underneath the doors.I release a breath, rummaging through my clutch, right as two girls come stumbling into the bathroom, their hands bracing the walls."Come on," the one wearing a purple slip-dress says, tugging the other. "There's good lighting in here."They giggle on by, nearly running into me, before they whip out their phones. Twisting the bottom of my lipstick tube to unveil a deep red shade, I can't help but sneak peeks at the photoshoot that follows.With a flashing phone pointed her way, the one in purple sits on the countertop, lean
His Fake Fiancee Damien
"HANNAH LOCKWOOD, would you do the remarkable honor of marrying me?"My heart hammers in my chest like the crashing of symbols.It's hard to tell if the shock lining Hannah's face is because of the timely proposal, as per written in our contract. Or because of the diamond sitting inside of the velvet black box, I hold in my clammy hands—I wouldn't blame her, as the jeweler appraised it for just over five million. Or because she shares the notion that some part of this fake proposal is real.Whichever the case, the way her jaw hangs low and her hands flicker to the corners of her mouth makes for the perfect snapshot. Flashes shine bright against the darkness of the dance floor. The photographers acted quickly, precisely how Harrison said they would.The bodies and eyes surrounding us illuminate, all waiting in anticipation for Hannah's decisive answer. Her attention draws to the crowd, and some of that sparkling joy dies out of her eyes before she returns them to me.I wish I could spe
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