The Fiancée Farce

by Alexandria Bellefleur

“Mmm, that’s nice. I like it when you talk nerdy. Is that something you do often?” Because Gemma could really get behind that. And on top of it. All over it. Unf. A rosy blush bloomed along the crests of Tansy’s cheeks. Damn, that blush was adorable. If Gemma didn’t know better, she might’ve called herself smitten. Good thing she did, in fact, know better. “I—I don’t know how to answer that.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d been asked a question.” Oh, the girl had some brass after all. Gemma grinned. “You want me to get down on one knee? Propose?” Gemma leaned close, lips brushing the shell of Tansy’s ear. “Say yes now, and later, I’ll spend as much time on my knees as you want.” Tansy’s breath stuttered, and Gemma smirked.

“Maybe I should prove it to you. Get down on my knees like I promised. I could show you just how desirable you are.” The hand she had braced against the bookshelf dropped to Tansy’s hip, fisting the fabric, bunching the satin between her fingers and dragging it up Tansy’s thigh. “I’ve lost sleep thinking about you, you know that? Thinking about how you might taste, the sounds you’d make if I was lucky enough to get my mouth on you.” Gemma lowered her forehead to Tansy’s, and her breath—whiskey warm and cinnamon sweet—wafted against Tansy’s mouth, making her ache from the tip of her nose down to her toes. There was a heavy sort of heat pooling beneath her belly button, a pulsing. The hand cradling her jaw drifted lower, wrapping gently around the front of her throat. “The things I want to do to you, the power you could wield over me, Tansy. You have no idea. I’d worship you, if you’d let me.”

Her name had never sounded sweeter than it did when Tansy said it. Whispered, shouted—she didn’t care, as long as it was her name on Tansy’s lips. Though she was pretty sure she liked it best this way, breathy, excited, like Tansy was genuinely happy to see her.

“I take care of what’s mine, okay?” Gemma’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “And you are mine, aren’t you?”

Tansy cringed. “Sorry. My fault.” “No.” Gemma sounded vehement, ducking her head so she could stare straight into Tansy’s eyes. “Don’t you dare apologize, okay?” Tansy couldn’t help but believe her sincerity. “Okay.”

“Besides.” Gemma smirked. “When I get you into bed, I don’t want you stressed, and I definitely don’t want you thinking about anyone but me.” She tucked an escaped lock of hair behind Tansy’s hair. “I don’t mind waiting.” “I thought we agreed patience wasn’t a virtue you possessed?” “Touché,” Gemma conceded, brows rising. “But for you? I think I can scrounge up a little patience, especially considering neither of us is going anywhere. I’m not in any hurry.” She scrunched her nose. “Okay, to be fair, my vibrator is probably going to get a hell of a workout tonight, but no rush.” Tansy swallowed a whimper, picturing Gemma with her hand buried between her thighs, back arching against that big bed of hers, desperate sighs falling from her lips. “Like that’s supposed to make me want to let you walk through my front door?”

Gemma (8:38 p.m.): That, and I have a vivid imagination. Gemma (8:38 p.m.): Some might even call it explicit. 5535756898 Tansy (8:39 p.m.): That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Gemma (8:40 p.m.): Indeed. My mind is rather . . . cinematic. Tansy (8:44 p.m.): Just to be clear, are we talking cinematic as in Oscars or OnlyFans? Gemma (8:46 p.m.): Tansy! I’ll have you know, my mind is as pure as the driven snow. 5535756839 Gemma (8:47 p.m.): Your suggestion on the other hand makes me awfully curious about where *your* head is at. Tansy (8:47 p.m.): Pure as the driven over snow,

Tansy (9:00 p.m.): Tell me about it. I’ve been sorting through my books trying to figure out which to part with. Gemma (9:02 p.m.): Excuse me?! Books? Why in God’s name are you getting rid of your books? Tansy (9:03 p.m.): Not all of them! I’m just . . . condensing. I’ve been using the spare room for storage. An overflow of sorts. Tansy (9:04 p.m.): It’s kind of gotten out of hand, and unless you’re looking to sleep on a bed of Harlequin Presents, downsizing is a necessity. Gemma (9:10 p.m.): I’m going to assume you have a perfectly decent bed in your room, don’t you? Tansy (9:12 p.m.): I do . . . Gemma (9:13 p.m.): Perfect. I’ll just bunk with you. Gemma (9:14 p.m.): Assuming you’re agreeable? Gemma (9:14 p.m.): Also assuming you don’t snore.

“Later,” she promised, the hand she still had resting on Tansy’s shoulder skimming down the bare skin of her arm, settling finally on her towel-clad hip, “I’m going to take the time to show you just how beautiful you are, and I’m going to keep showing you over and over and over again until you believe me.”

Gemma leaned in, lips brushing the damp shell of Tansy’s ear, dropping her voice down to a rasping whisper that made Tansy shiver, goose bumps erupting along her bare skin. “And you better fucking believe I’m going to make good on that promise to spend all the time on my knees that you want. Hell, you’re going to have to beg me to stop.”

“The sooner we dole out a little harmless justice, the sooner I get to make you come.” Tansy shivered hard. Talk about incentive.

“Fuck me,” Gemma chuckled against Tansy’s mouth. “You’re killing me, Tansy. If I didn’t think we’d get caught, I’d lay you out on the hood of Tucker’s stupid, flashy fucking car and make you come. Over and over and over again.” She shivered as Gemma’s thumbs brushed against the skin over her ribs, the wire of her bra. “So can we please get the fuck out of dodge so I can make good on my promise? All my promises.” She leaned in, lips brushing the lobe of Tansy’s ear. “You’re a fucking goddess, Tansy Elizabeth Adams. And I am going to worship you. I’m going to worship you so fucking good. Until you can’t see straight and my name’s the only word you know.” “Gemma,” she breathed. “Just like that.”