Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance by Jamie Knight (digital e reader .TXT) 📕

gently fingering me as I sucked him off. He came fast, and without missing a beat, I swallowed. I sucked him clean, then mounted his cock, needing to feel him inside me.

We were celebrating after all, even if I was still a bit iffy on the cause for celebration. At the very least, I could get some great sex out of it.

I was uncontrollable. Sean put his hands on my hips but more to keep me safe than to try and reign me in. The entire couch moved, inching back a good foot from its original position, moving with the sheer force of my riding.

I slammed myself up and down with wild abandon. I didn’t want to hurt him and did my best not to go too hard, but it was difficult. I loved it so much and got close to a jackhammer at times in terms of intensity. Finally, we both released. Sean unloaded his flood of cum inside me as my inner muscles milked him.

“Are you okay?” I asked, holding him in the aftermath.

“Yeah, I’m good, are you?”

I laughed. “Yep, fully exorcised and back to normal.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, kissing me on the top of my head.

“I love you, Sean MacBride.”

“I love you more, Darcy Matthews.”

Chapter Eighteen - Sean

A feel of comfort had set in, like settling into a nice duvet. The first few times I’d been to Darcy’s place, there was a sense of disconnection, like I was invading her space, despite what we ended up doing there.

To be comfortable, particularly with cohabitation, there needed to be a connection beyond acquaintance. I’d certainly built that with Darcy and, despite myself, thought of her place as my place.

Darcy didn’t have a guest room, not that we needed one anyway, the couch sufficing much of the time for our adventures. Ones I very much wanted to continue, even after my L.A. vacation, which was fast coming to an end.

A cool sheet greeted me when I reached for her. The glowing red digits on the clock read a time just before noon, so it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. I was touched in a weird way. Not only had she not wanted to wake me when she woke up, but she saw fit to leave me alone in her apartment. This was a silent shift in our relationship.

Getting into the shower alone, already missing her touch, I scrubbed down and made plans for what to do with the day. I didn’t have any work to do, which was still quite a new experience, and everyone I knew in town was at work or otherwise occupied.

As if a sign from the heavens, my phone rang.

“Hey, honey,” I said, expecting Darcy, though even if it had been Gavin, it would have at least been funny.

“Gavin? This is Darcy’s mother.”

“Mrs. Matthews, sorry, I, um, thought you were Darcy.”

“That’s what I gathered. How about since we’re going to be family, you call me Matilda?”

“Deal,” I said, already feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

I’d only met her a few times, but Mrs. Matthews had grown on me, certainly more than Mr. Matthews, whom I still wanted to strangle with my bare hands for what he did to Darcy. Not until he died, just until he blacked out. It was strange the violence that could manifest in my soul. I really didn’t think of myself as a violent person, but if someone hurt me or, worse, someone I loved, I could be very focused and decisive with my retribution. Particularly if I didn’t like them already. I hadn’t been kidding about punching Harry Ashton’s nose at the garden party. A fact that surprised me as much as anyone.

“Darcy isn’t here right now.”

“I know that silly, she’s at work, that’s why I called your cell phone. I got your number from Darcy.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“I wanted you to come by and look over the groom’s options. We’re pretty much decided on the bride, but you have decisions to make as well.”

“Of course,” I said, trying to be agreeable. “What’s the address. I know I was there for the garden party, but I’m not sure where it is exactly.”

“Oh, no need to bother with all that. I’ll send a car for you. It should be there within the hour, accounting for traffic. The place where we had the garden party is our weekend residence. During the week, we live in our apartment.”

Of course, they did.

The only time I’d ever heard someone refer to sending a car, it was either a limo or for a drive-by, and for some reason, I doubted Matilda had connections in the criminal underworld. Even if she did, she wouldn’t use them on the likes of me. We were on the same side, or at least, so I hoped. Still, the idea of taking a private limo to the place of someone rich enough to dispatch such a thing wasn’t much less nerve-wracking. I knew Darcy’s family was loaded but was only starting to get a real idea of how much they had. As if the garden party wasn’t enough of a hint. In my part of the world, the only person who had garden parties that well-publicized was Queen Elizabeth.

The car was already there when I went down to meet it. I’d made an effort to look presentable. I didn’t have a tie, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t a hanging offense, even in California.

“Sir,” said the driver, opening the back door for me.

The ride wasn’t nearly long enough, in my estimation, though there was a tendency among humans to want pleasant experiences to last as long as possible. However, it was long enough to give me a real taste for it and how people could get used