[The Fake Partner 01.0] Knocked Up by the Billionaire Read online

  Knocked Up By The Billionaire

  Tasha Fawkes

  M. S. Parker

  Atrevida Publishing

  Contents

  Free Book

  Reading Order

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Not For Sale

  1. Scott

  2. Megan

  3. Scott

  Other books from Safira Publishing

  About Tasha Fawkes

  About M. S. Parker

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  Reading Order

  Thank you so much for reading the first book in The Fake Partner series. All the books in the series can be read standalone, but if you’d like to read the entire series, I recommend reading them in the following order:

  Knocked Up By the Billionaire(This Book)

  Not For Sale

  Tagged Heart

  One

  Brady

  "Hey, Brady, check her out, over there." Nick pointed to a blonde woman across the room. "She's been eyeing you since we walked in the door.”

  I barely heard my best friend's comment, busy with a tall, big-breasted brunette who had walked over to our table, abruptly sat down on my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck, and planted one on my lips. I didn’t know her, at least I don’t think I did. Did it matter? Not really. She made herself comfortable on my lap as I inhaled a combination of perfume and booze.

  Well, how about that? Enjoying the buzz of my third or fourth Queimada—who was counting—I grinned lazily at the woman after she broke off the kiss.

  “Do I know you?” I asked. I might have met her, but who could remember? I’d enjoyed so many one-night stands over the years it was impossible to recall them all. Big tits, little tits, it didn’t matter to me.

  Nick said I was a chick-magnet, and I believed it. Completely. I had been told so many times that I was hot and that my hard body was to die for, and that my features reminded them of this movie star or that musician, so who was I to argue? I loved it. Not that I had a big head… at least not the one on top of my shoulders anyway. I didn’t do girlfriends… no, don’t go there, so this was fine with me. Free sex. I’d never had to pay for it, and I never would.

  “No, but you can if you want to.” The brunette smiled, leaning closer to kiss me again.

  The drink was supposed to provide mystical powers. Maybe it did. Then again, how many times had I also been told I had magic fingers? A well-honed skill, one that I practiced as often as I could. Nothing more distracting than having sex, no doubt about it.

  One arm wrapped around the young woman's shoulders, the other cupping and gently squeezing an ample breast, I tried to enjoy the moment. The large, steady thrum of the bass in the dance club in the basement next door to my hotel kept time with the pounding of my heartbeat. The techno-beat of the music nearly shook the walls as red, blue, and green strobe lights swirled over the dancing crowd, the popular nightclub packed to the brim.

  I stared at the crowd, a surge of… of something different gnawing at my belly. My dick responded to the music and the woman in my lap, but my thoughts felt detached, observing and yet not joining in the abandon and joie de vivre expressed by the dancing couples on the floor or making out in their own half-shadowed booths.

  I glanced at Nick. I knew why I’d come here, and it wasn’t only because Nick had encouraged me. Anything to stave off the growing boredom, this growing sense of disconnection. I frowned. Bored? How could I be bored? Spending every night with another woman, indulging in booze, the fast cars, the jet-setting around the globe. How could I be bored. And yet…

  I grinned as the woman in my lap leaned closer and sucked on my earlobe, evoking goose bumps along my skin. Distracted, I chuckled and offered her my neck while my palm lightly rubbed against her breast. I felt her nipple harden through the fabric. So did my dick, lengthening along the inside of my jeans as she wiggled her ass against my groin.

  “Brady!”

  I laughed as Nick reached across the table and tapped my shoulder. “What’s the rush?”

  "Maybe I'll take my chance with her," Nick said, raising his voice to be heard above the music as he gestured over his shoulder. "Come up for air, bro. I need five hundred Euros."

  "For what?"

  "For some blow." Nick shrugged, again tilting his head toward the woman staring at us from across the room. "An icebreaker."

  With a sigh, I let go of the woman's breast and dug my hand into my left front pants pocket to pull out several bills. "Don't spend it all," I warned, then turned to grin at the beauty still grinding on my lap. "I plan on doing some entertaining myself."

  I didn’t do drugs like Nick. Didn’t like the way they made me feel. I drank, sometimes to extremes, but that too was gradually taking its toll. I was getting sick—literally—of waking up with throbbing headaches and fuzzy hangovers. At twenty-seven, I was just beginning to realize that I couldn’t party quite as hard as I had at twenty. I pushed the negative thoughts from my head and watched as Nick snatched the money from the table and pressed his way through the crowd to the other side of the room.

  I momentarily ignored the woman on my lap, still gyrating, eyes closed, an ethereal smile lifting the corners of her mouth, imagining God only knew. I stared after my friend. Nick Calloway and I had been best friends and drinking buddies since high school. Originally from California, Nick was the quintessential typical surfer dude—tanned skin, unruly blond hair, and a happy-go-lucky, almost reckless attitude about life. All he wanted to do was surf, party, snort coke, and look for the next lay, and not necessarily in that order.

  Unlike me, Nick didn't come from a well-connected family. After a brief stint as a bartender, he had quit. He told me that he wanted to become an agent; to book bands in clubs like this one, but he didn’t seem to understand that his employment history, or lack of one, stood in the way of his dreams.

  Over the past couple of years, Nick had often tagged along with me on my ‘vacations’— me footing the bill of course. Earlier this week, we had landed in Ibiza, Spain. For the briefest of moments as I watched Nick make a beeline for the attractive blonde across the room, I felt a surge of… annoyance? Dissatisfaction?

  The ample-breasted brunette on my lap distracted me when she not so surreptitiously slid her hand between my legs and groped my balls. I glanced at her and noted her dilated pupils and knew she was high, drunk, maybe even both. She wanted it. She wanted me, and I was all too happy to oblige. I had just reached for her breast again, almost desperate for the distraction, when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone approaching the table. With a sigh, I turned, thinking it was Nick wanting more money.

  Not Nick, but a gorgeous brunette nearly identical to the woman who sat on my lap. I did a double-take and then glanced between the two of them, an eyebrow raised.

  "My twin sister, Maria. " The woman on my lap smiled and beckoned her sister to join us.

  I slid over, the brunette on my lap giggling softly
as she leaned close to nibble at my earlobe again. I couldn't remember her name, but it didn’t matter. This must be my lucky day. I’d never had a threesome with twins before. This might be an interesting evening after all.

  "Marta, let me have some fun," Maria said, sending a pout toward her sister.

  Marta released my earlobe as Maria threaded her fingers through my hair and turned my face toward her, pressing her lips against mine with as much as enthusiasm as her sister had moments before. At the same time, Marta traced the tip of her tongue down along the side of my neck and then nibbled my shoulder through my T-shirt. My dick throbbed in earnest now as Marta’s hand massaged my balls and stroked my hard-on through my jeans.

  Maria, apparently not wanting to be undone by her sister, slid her hand underneath the bottom of my T-shirt and circled my nipples with a long fingernail. Her tongue dove deep into my mouth. Her lips caught my tongue and gently sucked.

  God, I was going to explode right here. I doubted anyone would even notice if I—

  I felt a vibration in my back pocket that had nothing to do with sex. Dammit! My phone. I couldn’t hear my distinctive ringtone ‘Custard Pie’ ringing over the pounding music but counted to five before the intermittent vibrations ceased. I knew who was probably trying to call me, but I was determined to ignore it. Wanted to ignore everything from back home in Texas, hence my presence in Ibiza.

  An arm draped around each of the sisters, I pulled them closer and groped their breasts; Marta’s right one and Maria's left one, wondering if because they were twins they would be the same size and fullness. To my delight, they were. I occupied myself tweaking their nipples into erect, hard pebbles as I—

  The phone in my pocket buzzed again. Shit. With a sigh, I pulled away from both of them, untangled my arms from around their shoulders, and leaned forward to pull the phone from my back pocket. I glared at the phone screen, it’s blue glow stark against the blackness. I saw that I had missed two calls from Frederick Brunson, my father's lawyer.

  "Do you need to take that?" Marta said, leaning close to my ear, seductively tracing her tongue around its edges.

  I shook my head. "You lovely ladies have my complete and total attention," I lied. I passed my gaze over the crowd and lifted a hand toward a passing waiter to order a bottle of Cristal champagne. So, what if it cost a thousand Euros? The more I spent, the more I annoyed my father.

  I turned to one twin then the other and grinned. "Now, where were we?"

  "Right about here." Marta giggled, her hand once again diving into my crotch.

  I took turns kissing the girls, trying to determine which was the best kisser, but so far, the contest was tied. My blood surged, excitement burgeoning into a growing ball of fire from my—no pun intended—balls to my brain. I pushed all negative thoughts from my head, only having to slightly force myself to disappear into the sensations the lovely twins provided.

  I barely noticed when the waiter returned with a bottle and only broke off the kiss with Maria long enough to tell the man to put it on my tab.

  "Certainly, sir," the waiter said.

  The waiter hesitated briefly, glanced between the two women, breasts nearly spilling from their scanty dresses. He glanced down and saw where Marta’s hand had disappeared. He blinked, then straightened and moved off, slightly shaking his head. I felt a perverse sense of satisfaction. Oh, to be handsome, young, and loaded. Did it really get any better?

  The booth we sat in was shadowed in semi-darkness, so unless you were up close and personal like the waiter, no one could see what exactly was going on between the three of us. I felt tempted to slide my hand under the hem of Marta’s short dress. Was she bare under there? Was her pussy slick and wet, ready for some action?

  I glanced around the throng in the room, the strobe lights briefly illuminating dancing couples, colors flashing, flesh bared, laughing faces, drinks held high by some as they gyrated and did their dirty dancing moves with one another. There must've been a couple hundred people in the club, but every couple was isolated in their own little bubble, paying no attention to anyone else around them.

  I caught a glimpse of Nick at the other side of the room alone, leaning against a wall beneath the DJ, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders slumped with obvious dejection. He’d struck out again. If I were feeling generous, I would've gestured my friend over to join us. I wasn't feeling very generous at the moment.

  I turned from one twin to the other and reached for the bottle of champagne on the table. "Ladies, what say we take this party to my suite at the hotel next door? We can continue the party there."

  Two

  Dana

  “If we look at some macroscopic animals and plants, we can discover that many have microscopic juvenile stages, which…”

  I tried really hard to concentrate in class, my eyelids heavy and feeling like sandpaper. I counted the minutes before I could escape the most boring drone of the professor at the front of the room. Ugh. Ten more minutes. It seemed like forever.

  Normally, when bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I tolerated the professor—not that I had any control—but I'd been up late the night before studying. I’d fallen asleep around four o’clock this morning without shutting my bedroom window. That after a full day of classes and a pick-up shift at the diner on the corner. After falling asleep on the bed surrounded by my textbooks, I’d woken at seven o’clock with stiff joints and a throbbing headache. I grimaced as I clambered out of bed over my books and made a mad dash for my bathroom. I couldn’t be late for class again.

  The bathroom was tiny, and that was being generous. Barely enough room for the camper-sized shower stall, a chipped and stained porcelain sink jutting from the wall, and beside that, an equally dinged porcelain toilet. Muttering, I reached into the shower and turned on the faucets, knowing exactly how far to turn each one to get the temperature I wanted—if I were lucky.

  The piping made a groaning sound and shuddered inside the wall before the showerhead spurted unsteady bursts of water until pressure stabilized. I quickly pulled my T-shirt over my head and pulled off my sweatpants, naked underneath, and stepped under the running water. I inhaled sharply as cool water pelted my skin and then gradually warmed up. If no one on my floor flushed a toilet, which usually resulted in a sudden drop in not only water pressure but temperature, I’d count my blessings.

  I was in and out of the shower in less than five minutes, probably a world record for me. I quickly yanked the towel from the rack and towel-dried as I stepped into the studio, scanning the clothes strewn on the floor, looking for something relatively clean.

  The morning had gone downhill from there. I'd barely made it to my microbiology class, dull and challenging under the best of circumstances, but with lack of sleep and my pounding headache, I was barely able to concentrate. Spring finals were coming up, and I needed to focus. I closed my eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and made a conscious effort to sit straighter and to listen to the monotone drone of my professor, who, if possible, made microbiology even more mind-numbing than it already was.

  I glanced up at the clock again. Thank God, five more minutes of this torture and I could escape, at least for twenty minutes before my next classes—Fundamentals of Patient Care followed by Developmental Psychology.

  The phone in my back pocket vibrated. I ignored it at first. Probably Charlie, my brother. At twenty-one, Charlie was one year younger than me, although most of the time, he acted like an adolescent teen. I loved him dearly, but he could be challenging, especially after the death—

  I surreptitiously slipped the phone out of my pocket, glanced down at the screen, and frowned. Not Charlie. I didn’t recognize the number. I never took calls from numbers I didn't recognize. If it was important, they’d leave a voicemail. I slid the phone back into my pocket, quickly jotted down the assignment the professor wrote on the board, heavy-handed with his chalk, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. He did that on purpose. Likely his own brand of revenge on his class full o
f uninterested students.

  I headed out of class without speaking to anyone, not that I usually did. I had often been told that I was anti-social, but I wasn't. Not really. I was friendly and liked socializing. I make friends easily, but truth be told, I’m just too busy. Besides, I don’t like the melodrama of which many of my peers seemed to thrive. If they only knew how petty their whining about stupid things was compared to the really tragic things that could happen in life… Anyway, between studying and my crappy job at the diner just around the corner from my studio apartment, and trying to keep track of Charlie, I barely had enough time for myself, let alone friends.

  I stepped onto the quad and stood for several moments bathed in warm sunshine, heaving a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, I didn't have classes all day today. The phone in my pocket vibrated again. I pulled it from my pocket and glanced at the screen. A text message. I opened it.

  This is Mercy West Hospital. Charlie Sommer requested that we notify you that he has been admitted following an accident. Please contact hospital for information.

  My heart skipped a beat. A cold chill swept down my spine despite the warmth of the morning. Charlie! "Oh Lord, what now?" I headed for the south side of campus where the buses stopped regularly, but a quick glance at my watch made me pause. A bus going in that direction wouldn't be coming along for another twenty minutes. With a breathy curse, I turned around and headed for the quad again. I couldn't wait for a bus. I would have to take a taxi. An expense that I rarely indulged in, but this was an emergency.