I haven’t come from dry humping since I was a pimply teenager, and I’m not about to start doing it now. I need to find a place where I can get inside of her before the whole studio realizes what’s going on. I bring my mouth back to hers, kissing her deeply.
“We need to take this somewhere more private,” I tell her through panting breaths.
She looks up at me, and the desire in her eyes nearly breaks me. I have never wanted a woman as badly as I want Jane, right here, right now. I mold my mouth to hers, sucking and licking, positive that no amount of time with her will ever be enough.
“Riker! Jane!” Someone calls.
There’s a flurry of motion from one end of the hallway and flashing lights glare across the ceiling and walls. The press has found us.
“Oh my god!” Jane exclaims as a splash of scarlet paints itself high across her cheeks. She buries her head against my chest, causing her black hair to brush across my chin. The scent of jasmine and honeysuckle wafts upward, tickling my nose.
“No comment!” I shout, gripping on to Jane’s hand and pulling her down the hallway towards the studio exits. The press is hot on our heels, shouting questions and snapping pictures.
We maneuver through the halls, past offices, and into the lobby. The security guards at the desk hear the commotion and rush over. They let us through and then block off the rest of the crowd so that we can make our escape. One guard leads us out a side entrance and into the alley next to the studio where it seems to be quiet, for now anyway.
“Those pictures are going to be everywhere,” Jane shouts. “Pictures of you and me…oh my god! I need to get home to…I need to go.”
“Everything is going to be fine,” I assure her. “We weren’t doing anything wrong. Everyone thinks we’re engaged. Getting caught in a hot and heavy make-out session, as an engaged couple, isn’t the end of the world.”
“But,” she’s struggling for words. “People are going to see those pictures of us. You had your hand…you have a…” she looks pointedly at my still semi-hard cock.
“Look,” I begin. “Go home, take a bath, think of me.”
I smirk, “Relax. This will blow over. By tomorrow, the press will be too busy speculating on what designer will be making your wedding dress to remember what happened back there.” I toss a look towards the building we just rushed from.
She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets me hail a cab for her, kiss her softly on the lips, and tell her that I’ll catch up with her later. As I watch the cab pull away from the curb, I can’t help feeling like there’s something that I’m missing, something that Jane isn’t telling me. I don’t understand why the press taking our picture is so upsetting to her.
I know she isn’t used to that kind of attention, but the whole point of her pretending to be my fiancé is to clean up my reputation. Wouldn’t people question the story more if we weren’t caught displaying that kind of affection towards each other?
12 Jane
I’m in the kitchen with Nia when my phone rings. “I have to take this call, sweetie, it’s my boss. Finish up your snack and then go brush your teeth.”
“Okay, mom.” She looks at me suspiciously. She’s been watching me warily since I arrived home after the interview. She was at school during the initial airing time, but if she’s had the tv on at all today, it’s entirely possible that she heard something on replay.
I’ve been waiting for her to bring it up, not wanting to divulge too much too soon. But if she doesn’t, I’ll have to be the one to broach the subject. She and I don’t keep secrets from each other. Of course, she’s so young, and I’ve never had anything like this that’s made me uncertain of what to say to her. A fake engagement! My God, how do you explain that to a child?
Closing my bedroom door, I answer the call just before it clicks over to voicemail. I can only imagine the damage that would do to my career. “Good evening, Terry. How’s everything going?” I don’t even try to disguise the hesitancy in my voice.
“Jane, this is a brilliant stroke of genius,” she exclaims, her voice spiking to shrill levels. I hold the phone away from my ear. Call me crazy, but I’m rather fond of my sense of hearing. “I don’t know how you managed to get Riker to propose to you, but it’s absolutely what was needed.”
I cringe inwardly, because, of course, she would think someone like me would have had to convince Riker to agree to do this. I don’t try to correct her by telling her it was Riker’s idea. She would never believe it, anyway. “What do you mean,” I ask, unsure of why exactly she thinks this was such a good idea. “The interview was a mess.”
“Oh no! Definitely not! It’s working perfectly! I just got off the phone with Harvey Harrison, Riker’s PR manager. The entire world is going crazy over this engagement! People love it!”
“You’re kidding me?” I’m shocked. I know that Riker thought it went well, but really, how could anyone believe such nonsense?
“This is a fabulous win for the firm. Keep it up, and you’ll be on the fast track to making partner,” she promises.
All Terry cares about is winning. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about my feelings or how this is affecting my life. She surely doesn’t care about how it will affect my daughter when she finds out. I can’t stop myself from voicing my opinion to
