Fake Fiancée for Dad’s Best Friend by Gena Snow

Chapter 19

Alex

 

 

 

 

It took me Herculean effort not to do what my animal instinct directed me to do earlier, when Vivian gazed at me with those dark green eyes filled with desire. I wanted to carry her to my king-sized bed and taste every inch of her. Nothing from Capital Grilled even compared to what I remembered from the night of our engagement—her sweet lips, juicy petals, and buttery rosy buds.

Even now, on our way to the restaurant, my mind is still filled with the memory and my body craves her.

Since the restaurant is only a few blocks away, Vivian suggests we walk. Being a busy person, I don’t often have the luxury of strolling across town, so I agree. We go down in the elevator, keeping a distance between us, but once we’re out on the street, I can’t help but put my arm around her shoulders protectively. She isn’t mine, but I don’t want other guys to ogle her, especially when her sexy shoulders are visible through her sheer top.

Vivian stiffens a bit in the beginning but soon relaxes. She even leans toward me as we walk, her warm body pressing against me. My body feels warm. Damn. This is so nice. When was the last time I walked in leisure like this, with a beautiful woman in my arm? Trisha refused to walk to places, saying she only did it on runways. At first, I thought she was joking, but I realized later she meant it.

We make it to the restaurant right on time, with our reserved table waiting for us. I order a bottle of Pinot Noir from Napa Valley for us and browse the menu with Vivian.

“Everything looks good,” Vivian says, her shiny green eyes meeting mine for help. “I have trouble deciding between steak and seafood.”

“That’s easy,” I say. “Try the Seared Tenderloin with Butter Poached Lobster Tails. Trust me. It’s delicious.”

She grins. “Actually, I have that in mind. But what if I can’t finish it? That’s like two orders in one.”

“I’ll help you out,” I say.

“Sounds good!”

I order a Pan-fried Seabass with Miso Butter, the most delicious item on their menu, in my opinion.

While waiting for our order to arrive, Vivian glances around at the paintings and lights, while my eyes seldom leave her. To me, she’s the only thing worth looking at.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” she asks a bit embarrassedly. “Is there anything wrong with the dress?”

“No, Vivian,” I say, chuckling. “The dress is perfect. I’m sure it’ll be a hit.”

She blushes at my compliment. “It isn’t as unique as I was hoping for. It looks like a lot of things I’ve looked up.”

I smile at her self-criticism. “I like the way it is. People might have trouble accepting something too different.”

She nods. “But what if I can design something unique and acceptable? My dad does that all the time, you know?”

True. John has the talent. “You’d probably need to ask how he does it, but I assume you’ll learn to think outside the box,” I say. “Successful designers also do extensive researches, looking into the history and across cultures for ideas.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “I haven’t done enough homework. I need to read more. May I borrow your books?”

“What books?”

“The ones on fashion. I checked out your bookcase today.”

“Of course. Take whatever you want. You don’t have to return them since I’ve read them already.”

“Mmm. Thanks,” she says.

Knowing she’s interested in the books I read thrills me, so does picturing her checking out my belongings in my house. A wish possesses me. I want her in my life, to read my books, share my food and my bed, every day and night. Christ. I’ve got it bad for this girl.

The realization frightens me. I take a large gulp of wine to wash it down. Don’t be greedy. I’ll have her for one more weekend and that’s it. I quickly think of a topic to distract my improper wish. “Who’s your favorite fashion designer?”

She grins. “That’s a difficult question. There are many. Simone Rocha, Stella McCartney, Maria Grazia Chiuri, Miuccia Prada…” She gives me a list.

Understandably, they’re all women. “Who do you admire the most? And why?”

She chuckles before answering my question. “When have I become a celebrity? It sounds like an interview question.”

I shrug. “Trying to know you, sweetheart. You’re my fiancée, remember?”

“I don’t think there’s a favorite in terms of their designs. Even their personalities are equally fascinating. But I think Chiuri is most inspiring to me. She’s the one who says fashion helps women to be free and to express themselves, right?” Her eyes brighten as she speaks, showing her admiration for the designer.

I think quickly and nod. “I believe so.”

Vivian gets excited as she speaks about the woman designers’ accomplishments.  I can tell she’s aspired to be one of them, and I want nothing more than to help her succeed.

The server brings our food at the right moment since I’m once again overpowered by the attraction I feel for Vivian.

Vivian digs her folk into the beautifully presented dish, and she moans when she savors the food.

As she chews with her eyes closed, I watch her lush lips and get all hot and bothered again.

“This is over-the-top decadent!” she says after she swallows down her bite.

I chuckle and eat my portion. The seabass melts on my tongue, but my mind is hoping for something else.  Something equally soft and juicy. Damn.

Vivian’s habit of licking her lips doesn’t help put off the fire in my gut, and the wine certainly makes it worse. Christ. I need some ice water. Not just a glass, but a whole bucket of it, and I need it to be thrown into my face.

I’m swallowing down ice water when Vivian’s knees brush against mine, and my cock jolts. My hand also shakes, spilling water onto my shirt. “Damn,” I curse and quickly wipe down the mess with a napkin.

“Are you okay?” Vivian asks me with her eyes widen. She’s swallowing down a bite and licking her lips again.

I stare at those lips and grip the edge of the table. “I’m fine,” I say. I’m just about to lose my sanity.

I clean my plate the moment Vivian does hers, and then I gesture to the server for the check. I have to get her out of here and be alone with her.

“You want any dessert?” I ask Vivian despite my eagerness to leave the restaurant.

“No! I’m full!” She rubs her belly with both hands, laughing. “Look at my belly!”

I look. It doesn’t look that different to me, but the gesture drags my mind into the gutter again—I would love to see her belly round and large one day with my seed growing inside her. Damn. I’m such a dirty old man.

Vivian takes my arm as we walk out of the restaurant, and the move pleases me. I walk fast despite my effort to be patient, and Vivian doesn’t seem to mind. Even so, the ten minutes’ walk seems endless. Every traffic light is torture, not because it feels long but because I have to struggle with my urge to push her against the light pole and kiss her right there. And if I did that, we’d never make it back to my condo because I wouldn’t stop at that, and the cops would be after us for lewd conduct in public.

I march forward as soon as the light turns green, and then I hear Vivian’s giggle. “Why do you walk so fast? It’s not like we’ve got somewhere to go to.”

I slow down right away. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t know what got into me. Actually, I’m wondering whether you would like a walk in Central Park?”

Did I really make the suggestion? Of course, I did. It’s my attempt to get my mind out of the gutter. As long as we’re in public, I won’t do anything stupid to her.

Vivian looks delighted. “I would love to!” she says.

It’s about an hour to sunset, and the south end of the park is still packed with tourists, joggers, and cyclists. We quickly maneuver through the crowds, find ourselves in a relatively secluded spot near Shakespeare Garden, and sit down on a wooden bench surrounded by madly blooming hibiscus and lilies.

Vivian leans her head against my shoulder. “Wow. This is so nice!” she says. “I’ve never been to this part of the park. I’ve been to the turtle pond, though. I believe it’s close to here. I suppose you’re here a lot?”

I chuckle. “Why? Because I live close by? Unfortunately, no. I’m here at most once a year, although I can see the park from my condo.”

She looks at me with mouth agape. “Once a year? I can’t believe it! I would be here at least once a week if I were you.”

“I know, I know,” I say. “It’s what attracted me when I purchased the place. And I did come quite often in the beginning. But it wasn’t fun to wander around in the park by myself.” Damn. I sound like a lonely, pathetic old man.

Vivian gives me a sympathetic look and reaches to stroke my face.

I lose it. I lean toward her and kiss those lips that’ve tempted me all evening. She tastes butter and wine, sweet, salty, and addictive. I suck on them greedily. When she moans, I run my tongue over the seam of her lips to pry them open. When she yields, I plunder her mouth aggressively, stroking her tongue and every corner of her mouth. Damn. The best chef on earth can’t create anything as delicious as her.

Supporting her back with one hand, my other hand grabs her arm and pulls her to me, so she half straddles me. Her swelling breasts press into my firm chest, and my very rigid boner fits into her soft belly. When she squirms, I slip my hand under her dress and caress her thigh. Fuck. She feels good. I can’t help moving upward, reaching her hip and then her ass. Her panties are tiny, making it easy for me to palm her cheeks. I knead them as I grunt. If it feels so good just to touch the surface of her body, I won’t last if I get to be inside her.  My manhood swells at the thought, and I’m in danger of exploding right here in the park.

I’ve got to stop. Right now. I command myself. But it’s no use. My hand moves of its own volition, and it’s reaching her warm little crack. It’s already damp, too. I trace her wetness to her feminine center, a place I’ve missed so much lately. I’ve practically dreamed of it every fucking night.

My lips are on the crook of her neck at the moment, and I suck on her soft skin with more force than I intended. Vivian whimpers softly, jumping a bit. My finger takes the moment to enter her warm, slick hole and spirals up quickly to explore her.

Fuck. I hope there aren’t any cops around. I’ve never had public sex before. This is so indecent. What the hell am I doing?

I stop moving, but Vivian protests right away. “Don’t stop, please! I’m close!”

I can’t help chuckling. Her eagerness encourages me. I don’t hesitate to put in one more finger and swirl faster along her drenched walls.

Vivian grabs my hair as she tenses and convulses. And then, as if a dam breaks through her channel, a flood of warm liquid rushes through and splashes onto my hand.

I don’t have any napkins with me, so I bring my hand to my mouth after she stops trembling. I lick her sweet juice off, watching her shining eyes turn dark as she lies limply in my arm.

“Take me home, Alex,” she demands.

I know what she has in mind, and I don’t hesitate to obey her.

It’s getting dark. As soon as we’re out of the park, I call a taxi, not because I’m tired of walking, but because I’m impatient and I can’t stop kissing Vivian.

Although my condo is only a block away, it takes us forever to get there. I can hear my heart beating violently while helping Vivian out of the taxi. I can’t stop imagining what I would do to her once we’re back in my penthouse.