The Billionaire’s Fake FiancéeImani King Presents Simone Rivers Imani King Copyright © 2019 by Simone Rivers All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. To learn more about Simone Rivers, visit her website: https://www.simonerivers.com Join Simone on Facebook: facebook.com/SimoneRiversAuthor Contents Blurb 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 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Also by Simone Rivers About the Author Blurb Lawyers always say that if you represent yourself in court, you’ve got a fool for a client. Do you know when else you’ve got a fool for a client? When the guy you represent tells the judge you’re his fiancée! Oh hell no. I just met this a**hole yesterday in the jail cell he got himself into after screwing a fangirl on the floor of a casino and punching out a cop. This isn’t exactly the kind of case I’d dreamed of taking on when I was in law school. But my daughter and I need the money, and this billionaire has lots of it. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win. If only my damn client would cooperate! He seems to think that getting me into his bed is more important than staying out of jail. There’s no way I’m letting him get close enough to put a ring on my finger, let alone his…um… Oh my God, it’s somehow even bigger than looked in the tabloids! So much is on the line. The entire country is watching. Keeping things professional is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire career. Because Riker is used to getting what he wants. A man like him doesn’t play by the rules. And he’s decided that he doesn’t want a fake fiancée. He wants to make this real. 1 Riker The sensation of hot, wet lips around my cock threatens to take me out of reality for a second, but I refuse to give in. This is too good to miss. “Oh, Riker,” she mouths, tongue sliding on my shaft. “My Lord. You’re so good, my Lord.” I lean back, sculling the last of my bourbon in one gulp. My name is on every billboard on almost every building. I have roughly three billion followers spread across multiple social media accounts. Everyone wants me. Including gorgeous, giving creatures like this girl here. I picked her up out on the casino floor somewhere. I’m so drunk, all I remember is blonde hair, big tits, and a red dress. I can’t recall her name. Did she even give it to me? Fuck knows. I’ve been drinking since about ten am, and this is the third time I’ve brought an eager fan to my private booth in the club. As my devoted follower leans forward, swallowing my massive cock right to the end of her throat, I bend at the waist. One hand slips down to the back of her head. I use a little pressure to keep that bobbing motion nice and tight. She’s gasping around my cock, wriggling a little. I know she’s getting wet for me. She’s fucking dripping just having my huge hard cock hitting the back of her throat. She clamps the head between her lips suddenly, running her tongue around the creases. I take a short, sharp breath, my arousal peaking. Then, the awesome little penitent grabs my balls. I thrust my hips forward, sliding to the end of her throat in one stroke and blowing my load as hard as I can. She keeps her lips and tongue pumping the whole time, swallowing every drop. As I draw my cock back, running it over her lips, she sits back, eyes closed and a little happy smile on her face. As I straighten up and fix my fly, one of the security officers at the entrance to the VIP section slips me a thumbs up. I salute back. He’s enjoying his job watching the billionaire playboy. He’s making tons of tips and meeting all the hottest chicks. Even if they do only have eyes for me. “Oh, Riker. I mean, my Lord. Can we fuck? Please, I need it.” I reach down and take her cheek, smiling. “Look at you. On your knees, worshipping your Lord. I tell you what. We might get together later. Give me your number, okay? I’ve really got an important meeting to get to. You know how it is.” “Oh. Okay. I guess so.” “So.” I give her a blank look, waving my hand. “Go.” She gets up slowly. “What about my number? Don’t you want it?” “Give it to my security guard.” I pull out my phone, tapping it open, mentally dismissing her. “Oh. Okay. Bye then.” “Yeah, see you Karen.” “It’s Katie.” “Whatever,” I mutter to myself, absorbed in my new messages. It’s all good news, but when isn’t it? More followers, more money, more parties. Life is fucking great. I head out on to the casino floor again, tipping my security guy. I’ve forgotten his name too, but that hardly matters. I’ll probably see at least three of them today, moving in and out of the VIP section. I don’t know what time it is—maybe late afternoon? I started drinking at a poker game this morning, heavy shit, more than money at stake on that table. After cleaning them all out, I brought us rounds and hit the VIP section with Wanda—or was it Winry? I met Karen or whoever when I hit the dice tables. Trying to figure how much time I’ve been gambling, drinking or getting my cock sucked is doing my head in. All I know is I’m on one hell of a bender, and I don’t plan to stop anytime soon. I take a wander around the floor. I’ve done some cards. I’ve done some dice. I’ve hit the sports section and
