Virgin Fiancée

By: Nikki Chase

A Fake Engagement Romance

Chapter 1


Two Months Ago

What the hell?

I stand frozen in the doorway, my mouth hanging open.

I can’t believe my eyes.

The door isn’t even closed, and they haven’t even heard my footsteps.

On the bed, just a few feet away, my boyfriend’s naked ass is going up and down, plowing into a woman who’s spread-eagled beneath him.

She’s the one who notices me first. She says, “Hey, she’s cute. Your friend wanna join us?”

Is this woman crazy?

Mark stills, hovering over the woman. He turns his head to the side to look at me. His eyes are wide and his forehead is covered with fat beads of sweat.

Oh, and his cock is still buried in the woman’s pussy.

“Piper. I… Uh…” Mark’s body jumps into gear, although his brain hasn’t quite caught up. He pulls his cock out, dives down to the floor to pick up his boxers, and quickly puts them on. He steps closer.

“Keep your hands off me,” I say, avoiding him as he reaches out to touch me.

“You… I… Uh… I thought you… Weren’t you planning to come later tonight?” Mark asks, stumbling all over his words.

“My plans changed,” I reply curtly.

I was about to have lunch with Carly today, but she canceled. So I thought I’d visit my boyfriend, make out a little bit, and—if things go well—maybe even let him take my virginity today.

That’s definitely not happening now.

“Hey, dude, your one hour is up. Do you want more time? It’s the same flat rate,” the naked girl says, as if she’s completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere.

Mark remains quiet as the gears in my brain goes into overdrive. Why is she being so casual about everything? And what could she mean by “flat rate”? Flat rate for what?

My breath catches in my throat as realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

“Dude? Max, right?” The woman remains on the bed as she picks up Mark’s jeans, which were lying on the carpeted bedroom floor. She pulls out his wallet from the back pocket and says, “I’ll just help myself, okay? See? I’m just taking whatever you owe me.” She takes out a few bills and holds them up for Mark to see, although he remains completely frozen in place, not daring to take his eyes off me.

My blood boils. He’s cheating on me with a prostitute? Really?

“Don’t tell me she’s a prostitute,” I say as I glower at Mark.

The woman gets up from the bed and quietly puts on her clothes, piece by piece, as if we weren’t also here in the same room.

After a long pause, in which the only sounds are the zipper of the woman’s mini skirt being pulled up and the muffled clicks of her heels on the carpet, Mark says, “Okay. I’m not going to tell you she’s a prostitute.”

The woman laughs. Looking right at me as she walks out of the bedroom, she says, “Honey, I wouldn’t have fucked this guy if he didn’t agree to pay for it.”

The woman’s ultra-high heels click noisily on the wooden floor as her footsteps get further and further away.

The front door opens, then closes again with a soft click.

It’s just the two of us now, marinating in the tense, awkward atmosphere, neither of us knowing what to say.

I look at the desk, where I left my laptop this morning. I could at least take that with me right now, even if I have to leave the rest of my stuff behind.

“I’m sorry, Piper. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You weren’t meant to find out,” Mark says, finally finding his tongue.

“And that makes it okay?” I march past him toward the desk and grab my laptop. I’m ready to leave now. I don’t care. There’s no explanation needed.

“Please, Piper. I know I fucked up, but I had a bad case of the blue balls. It’s been six months,” he says as he follows me out the room. “If you think about it, both of us are responsible for what just happened. We can move forward. We can move past this. I have faith in us.”

“I don’t.” I open the front door, step out into the hallway, and turn around. “Don’t even think about following me. Your face makes me sick.”

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