Hard Fiancé: A Fake Marriage Romance Read online

  Hard Fiancé

  Penny Wylder

  Copyright © 2020 Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved. Excedpt as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.

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  Contents

  1. Phade

  2. Sylvia

  3. Phade

  4. Sylvia

  5. Sylvia

  6. Phade

  7. Sylvia

  8. Sylvia

  9. Sylvia

  10. Sylvia

  11. Phade

  12. Sylvia

  13. Phade

  14. Sylvia

  15. Sylvia

  16. Phade

  17. Sylvia

  18. Phade

  Epilogue

  Books By Penny Wylder

  1

  Phade

  “You ready?” Stone asks as I'm climbing into the back of the limo.

  There's no need for me to make eye contact with him to know he's more than ready to go out tonight. I can smell his excitement.

  His cologne is thick and heavy, the same cologne he's worn since we were sixteen years old and he was trying to get laid. It's filling the limo with a musky, outdoor scent.

  Taking in a deep breath, I lay my arms across the back of the seat, and grin. “Ready? Fuck, Stone, I was born ready.” Chuckling, I relax my body, bouncing my shoulders and flexing my arms. “You think God gave me these dimples just for shits and giggles?”

  Stone cocks a brow and smirks. “Is that what those are. . . dimples? I thought those were creases from—” Lifting a closed fist to his mouth, he moves his arm like he's giving head.

  “Don't be jealous asshole, I can't help it that pussy flocks to me like seagulls on food in a parking lot.”

  “Good analogy, Phade, that's why you get paid to use your fists and not your fucking head.”

  “Well, tonight I plan on just using my cock. I left everything else at home.” Grabbing my dick, I jerk my hips.

  Stone shakes his head with a smile on his face. “One day your dick's going to fall off, you know that right?”

  “Not this dick; it's made of gold.”

  We both start laughing, and Stone passes me a shot of vodka as he pours one for himself. “To going pro. Your hard work, and harder head, has finally paid off.”

  Tapping my glass against his, I nod. “I can drink to that.”

  It's satisfying. Call me conceited, call me full of myself, but I damn well deserve all of this. I worked my ass off to get here, and finally, after years of training and using the underground circuit to make a name for myself, someone has finally recognized my potential. And that someone is willing to pay me a shit ton of money to do what I love—break skulls.

  Daniel Cross, my new agent and boss, has represented a few other well-known names over the years, but I'm his prodigy, the name that's going to send him straight to the top. With him at my side, we'll be unstoppable.

  The limo stops outside the club, and I see a long line stretching around the building as I look out the window. The bouncer is only letting in a few people at a time and turning away so many more. If you don't have a recognizable face or a handful of hundreds to slip him, getting in is as good as winning the lottery. It's the new Studio Fifty-Four of our time and everyone wants to be here.

  The limo driver opens my door and steps to the side so I can get out. “Thanks. We'll be here for a bit so just stay close.” Shaking his hand, I slip him a couple hundred dollars. He won't go anywhere, not now.

  I can't stop the smile that hits my mouth as everyone waiting in the line goes silent. Jaws drop wide, panties soak instantly, flooding the sidewalk as I step up onto the curb.

  Fuck, I love that. I love the silence, the wide eyes, and the smell of a pussy in heat. Every woman in the line wants to fuck me. And I'll be happy to make their dream come true one at a time.

  Stone climbs out behind me, his smile matching mine. Leaning into my ear, he whispers, “There's plenty here for you to pick from. Think you can leave me just one?”

  “I can't promise you anything.” Slapping his shoulder, the bouncer gives me a nod, pulling the rope back to let us in. This line means nothing, not for a man like me.

  When your name's Phade 'Brass Knuckles' Manson, lines don't exist.

  There are whispers and yells, women calling my name and screaming to get my attention. Flashes from cameras pop in my peripheral vision, so I put on my best smile and try to give them the shot they're looking for, the one that will end up on the front page of a magazine.

  This shit never gets old. I used to think it was wild when a single person knew who I was while I was fighting underground, but now, now it's surreal.

  I can't go anywhere without girls following me, women throwing themselves at me, passing me slips of paper with their number on it. Going pro was the single best thing I've ever done. I wouldn't change a thing.

  Fame. Money. Girls.

  What more could a single man ask for?

  The music turns up in volume the second we step inside, with bass so deep it's making my chest pound and my ribs vibrate. Strobe lights flash in the darkness. A thick smoky haze floats in the room like a velvet blanket.

  The air smells like perfume and sweat. People are smashing against each other, grinding, groping, almost fucking on the dance floor.

  Stone taps my shoulder to get my attention and points to the VIP seating behind the bar. Moving through the crowd, hands slip over my arms as women try to hang on, wanting to take home even the smallest piece of me.

  But Stone does what he does best, moving them aside with one wide sweep of his arm. “Step aside, ladies,” he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing us through the sea of cleavage. “The night is long.”

  “What's your poison, boys?” a bottle girl asks as we slide into a booth.

  She's got short blonde hair, a cute little nose, and a decent rack. I'd take her to a hotel for a night, no questions asked, but that's all I'm willing to give.

  Settling down isn't in the cards, not for a guy like me. I have too much life left to experience. Why waste it with one woman?

  “It's a boys’ night out tonight,” I say, tapping my knuckles on the table. “We'll take your most expensive bottle, whatever it is.”

  “Boys’ night, huh?” Smirking, her eyes linger on mine for a moment as she bites her bottom lip. “You're Phade Manson, right?”

  “That's right,” I say, stroking my jaw. “You watch ultimate fighting?”

  Shrugging her shoulder nonchalantly, she smiles. “On occasion. My brother is a big fan.”

  “Bring me something, I'll sign it for him if you want.”

  She gently bites her nail, her eyes darting around my face. “I might take you up on that.”

  Winking, I give her a sly, sexy smile back. “How about some shots, my buddy and I could go for some shots.” Turning to Stone, I slap his arm. “Right, Stone, you want a shot, don't ya?”

  He shoots me a look, so I take out my wallet and thumb through some cash.

  “Fuck it, if you're paying, I'm in. Let's go, round of shots for us, please.”

  “What kind of shots?” she asks, her tone flirty and playful.

  “Surprise us,” I say, smiling wide to make sure the dimples do their job.

  “You got it.�
� The waitress turns to leave, glancing back at me and giving me sultry eyes over her shoulder.

  I watch her ass swing side to side as she walks away until she's out of view, then I let my eyes drift out into the crowd. People are dancing, the music is bumping, and just the whole vibe of the place is giving me that warm feeling in my gut.

  Never in my life did I ever think I'd be sitting here in the VIP section of Dutch. If I went back in time and told myself where I'd end up, I wouldn't even believe it. I'd probably even try to fight myself about it.

  Because how does a poor kid from the shit end of the city, Arctic Grove, end up here?

  Most people don't, but I'm not most people.

  If there's one thing I have that most people lack, it's determination. I was going to be famous one day, that much I knew. And here I am, with money to spare and women ready to lick my balls for just a taste.

  My eyes surf the sea of beautiful bodies, just enjoying the live show before me.

  “Here you are,” the waitress says, returning in record time.

  “Thank you.” Picking up both shot glasses, I hand one to Stone, then look back at her. “Where's yours?”

  Holding out her arms, she lowers her head. “No drinking allowed when I'm working.”

  “I'll take a rain check then.” Saluting the air, I knock back the shot fast. “Woo!” I call out, shaking my head. “That shit burns, what the hell was it?”

  Stone is laughing as he runs the back of his hand across his mouth. “It's tequila, dip shit. Oh wait, I forgot you only drink dog piss.”

  Pulling back my arm, I slug him in the bicep. “Dick.”

  “Ah, fuck, Phade, that shit isn't funny.”

  “Neither are your jokes, so let's call it even.”

  Drink after drink after drink, Stone and I pound them back like they're water. After the first few, I don't even feel the burn anymore. My chest feels warm and my skin is getting hot.

  Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I glance around the room, and a flicker of light catches my attention from across the bar.

  Focusing my eyes, I'm instantly drawn to a woman in a flashy dress. She's sitting alone, sipping a martini. Our eyes cross for a single beat, holding just long enough to know we see each other. Then hers are gone, darting away into the crowd.

  And in that split second I feel something. It's raw and bold, and now I can't stop looking at that woman. I don't want to turn away, I want her to look at me again, I want to feel that flash of a rush that ran through my body when our eyes met.

  “Dude, Phade, you with me, man?” Waving his hand in front of my face, Stone leans over, forcing me to see him.

  “Yeah, what's up?”

  “Man, you're so fucked up, I can see it in your eyes.” Holding up two fingers, he starts to move them back and forth. “Follow my fingers.”

  Shoving him back, I chuckle. “Get the fuck out of here.” Standing, I adjust my collar and look down at my friend. “I've got a date with that sexy piece of ass over there, you might want to start planning another ride home. The limo's going to be taken tonight.”

  Following my gaze, Stone grins. “She's cute, not exactly your type, but cute.”

  “Not my type? Since when do I have a type?”

  “Since you signed that fucking contract, that's when. All I've seen are big fake tits, dyed hair, and botox. That girl isn't any of those things. She looks like the girl next door, never even used a tampon, condom only kind of girl.” I'm about to speak, but he stops me, holding up his hand. “That's if she's ever actually seen a cock, we don't know.”

  “She's gorgeous—naturally beautiful, that's way hotter than plastic. As far as all that other shit, your speculations suck ass.” Stepping down from the VIP area, I run my palms down the front of my shirt and flash a smile at Stone.

  “Good luck, but if I had to bet, I'd say you're going to leave with a welt on your cheek.”

  “I'm not a betting man, Stone, but that's only because I always win. It ain't betting if you know the end result.” Wriggling my brows, he tips his drink in my direction and takes a long sip.

  Moving around the bar, I'm trying to make my way through the mass of people without anyone noticing me. It doesn't work. People are calling my name, men and women, all of them are trying to stop me for a picture and an autograph.

  Normally, I'd be more than happy to appease everyone. I'd throw an arm around them and smile. I'd happily sign whatever they hand me. Right now is different, I don't have time for this shit. There's a girl at the bar I need to meet.

  It's hard to explain, but there's something brewing deep in my body, something that's forcing my legs forward and making my chest heavy. I haven't gone out of my way to meet a girl in forever, but this woman is silently calling me.

  Her jet black hair is pulled back into a tight bun, glistening with blue highlights under the lighting. A sleek black dress hugs her body perfectly. The right amount of cleavage is peeking out from the top of her dress, drawing my eyes down and making my mouth water.

  My mind starts to run with images of my tongue licking up the center of her chest and across her nipples. Tasting every inch of her skin, all the flavors from sweet to salty and anything in between.

  I want to fuck her tits as she fingers herself and moans my name. I can see it clear as day, her licking the juice off her fingers as she begs me to fuck her. Her legs spread wide, her pussy glistening with arousal, the image is perfect in my mind.

  I'm fixated on her face, on her full plump lips and soft pink lipstick, that's making her lips glossy and her mouth as fuckable as her pussy. My cock jerks, the blood rushing down to fill my shaft instantly.

  The woman twirls the toothpick in her martini, then lifts it to her mouth and slowly slides off an olive with her teeth.

  Damn, this girl is coming home with me.

  Wrapping her lips over the edge of the glass, my brain instantly wonders what they would look like wrapped around my cock, how soft they would be, how hard she would suck, what my cum would look like decorating her chin.

  Our eyes connect and she gives me a shy little smile. Stepping up beside her, I reach my hand out and start to stroke her arm. “Hey, beautiful, want to dance?” I ask, leaning on my elbow and looking out to the dance floor.

  Her mouth wriggles as if she's going to speak, but nothing comes out. Taking her hand, she starts to resist. But I do what I do best; I give her another smile, nod my head, and run my thumb in small circles over her wrist.

  Her skin is warm and velvety smooth. I can't stop touching her, I don't want to stop touching her. My fingers are gently moving up and down her arm, stopping at her elbow and gliding back down to her hand.

  Parting her lips, she leans over like she's about to blurt something into my ear, but I cut her off, not giving her the chance.

  “Come on, come dance with me.” Pulling her along, the woman digs her heels in slightly and shakes her head, trying to pull back. “One dance, that's all I'm asking for.”

  My hands are tangled in hers and we're countering each other's weight as we lean in different directions. It's a push and pull between us, and I'm about to win.

  Pouting, I rest my hand on my chest and give her puppy dog eyes. “Don't make me beg.”

  The girl grins, dropping her eyes to the floor and stepping forward. See? I get what I want.

  Setting my hands on her hips, I start to rock my waist, rubbing against her. She's cautious at first, trying to keep some space between us. Every step I take closer, she takes one back.

  Most men might see that as a sign she isn't interested, but not me. I see it as a challenge, one I'm going to conquer.

  Her eyes won't stay on mine for longer than a second, darting from my face to the ceiling, down to the floor, and back again. She's nervous, her skin is warm, and her muscles are stiff.

  “Just relax,” I try to say, but her brows crinkle and she points at her ear. “Relax!” I yell, but the music is so loud she still can't hear me.

  Shakin
g her head no, she points at her ear again. Smiling, I tug my bottom lip in and wrap my arm around her waist, yanking her in closer. Fuck words, I'll just show her.

  Her body hits my chest, and I see a flicker of desire in her eyes as her nails dig in to keep her balance.

  It's small, a tiny little flame that wants to grow, but she's holding back the air it needs to thrive. It's like she's afraid to let go, afraid to have too much fun, afraid to just live in the moment.

  Slipping my other arm over her shoulder, I trace her spine, following it down to her ass. We both start to sway, letting the music control our speed. Her hips begin to roll, her eyes start to close, her arms softly move up her ribs.

  She's relaxing, allowing herself to feel the beat, to let it flow through her body and take control. Maybe she isn't used to this—to a man like me. A man who isn't afraid to take charge. A man who knows exactly what he wants.

  I don't need to take it with force, not when I know how to strum her body like an instrument, play the right chords and make her sing.

  Spinning around, she sticks her ass out, grinding it against my cock. Kicking my hips forward, our bodies rock together, swaying in tandem. My cock is already hard and throbbing. Her body is enticing, making my muscles tense and my balls tingle.

  Lowering my face to her neck, she smells incredible, and I can't stop myself from placing light kisses up the side of her throat.

  Moving my hands over her belly, I slowly glide flat palms up her stomach and trace the outside of her tits. I can feel her breathing get deeper as her chest snaps out and her tits pop up a little more over the edge of her dress.

  Her head rolls to the side and her arm comes up, curling around my neck. Tiny beads of sweat are sitting at the edge of her hairline, so I run my tongue across her skin, tasting her along the way. She's sweet and salty with floral highlights. I'm losing control, my brain is shutting down and my dick's taking over.