Fake It Real: A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance Page 9

  Every so often, when the moonlight coming through the windows hits just the right angle, I can see the goosebumps on her chest and the gentle curves of her breast.

  Focus on the road. If you crash the Jag because you were staring at a pair of tits, that’s months of hard work that’ll be wasted.

  But those tits, though…

  She leans over, resting against me, nuzzling her head into the crook of my shoulder. There’s just two layers of thin fabric between us and the heat coming from her sears my skin. I feel her chest expand and relax with each breath, I feel the swell of her breasts against me, I feel her hands settle high on my leg as she catches herself from falling further, I feel her eyes gazing straight at my rock hard cock that’s standing at attention in my slacks.

  “Careful. This is just business, remember?” she says to me in a hot whisper.

  The heat of her gaze is still on me.

  There’s something in that whisper of hers.

  Teasing.

  Tempting.

  Take me.

  There’s silence between us — we hardly say a word — but every passing glance, every breath, every movement, is a screaming, sensual supplication for us to give into our desire.

  This is supposed to be fake, but I can’t fight what I’m feeling for her.

  We park in my driveway and I leap out of my seat to go around the car and open the door for her. I open it and she rises right into my arms. All I hear is this short, sharp breath before our lips meet.

  “Are we doing this?” she whispers into my ear while I kiss her neck and run my hands down the back of her dress. I can feel the quick beat of her pulse pounding in her neck.

  I squeeze her ass. Fucking hell, it is a perfect, plump handful.

  My cock surges, rock hard and straining against the fabric of my pants.

  “Do you want to stop?” I whisper.

  “Never.”

  I pull her back a bit from the car, leading her around to the front, kissing her every step of the way. Her lips are sweet, her smell intoxicating, and her nipples hardening, poking out against the thin fabric of her dress.

  “But should we?” she asks, eyes wide.

  “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about tomorrow, don’t think about the morning, don’t think about an hour from now. Right now, you are mine,” I say, running my thumb along her hard nipples and listening to the sweet sounds of her moan.

  “Julian, that feels so good.”

  Alone, under the light of the stars and the distant shimmer of the city beneath us, I slide away one strap of her dress. One bare shoulder tempts me further.

  Her brown eyes shine back at me, reflecting my desire.

  I slide away the other strap and she does this little shimmy as she pulls it off.

  It’s like a dream come to life. Every curve of her body, every peak, every valley, full lips, full tits, eyes lit with lust; this woman is tailor-made to set my heart on fire.

  I can’t hold back, I can’t restrain myself.

  I’m going to devour her.

  I press myself against her, crushing my lips to hers and I slide my hands over her bare body. She shivers against me, this little moan bursting from her lips. My cock is throbbing with need and I grind my hips against her.

  “Give me your coat,” she whispers.

  I take it off and hand it over. Primly, precisely, she lays it down on the pavement of my driveway and then drops to her knees.

  God damn.

  All I can do is watch, my heart pounding, as she snicks open my belt and my pants and takes my cock in one delicate hand.

  Just her touch is enough to make me weak in the knees.

  “Holy fuck,” I start to moan but I don’t get all the words out — they die in my throat as she swallows me.

  She gets my cock about halfway down her throat and there’s this wet pop as she takes me out of her mouth.

  “I had a nice time tonight and I just want to say thank you,” she says, stroking my cock as she looks up at me with those burning, bright brown eyes.

  My knees are shaking. It’s like I’m sightless except for her. The world around me fades away and all I’m left with is the vision that is Melody.

  A wicked grin parts her lips and then my heart revs into overdrive as she takes me back into her mouth, her tongue coiling and wrapping around my dick, while her lips suck with just enough pressure that makes me feel like I’m about to die in the best way possible.

  How is a good girl like her able to do this?

  I lean forward, resting one hand on the roof of my Jag for support while she makes my body go haywire with her tongue.

  Every touch, every stroke, every lick is electric, sparking my senses like I’ve never felt before.

  I breathe deep.

  One more minute like this and I’m going to…

  “Stand up,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Are you sure?” she says.

  I have a goddess kneeling in front of me. I’m not sure how I manage it, but somehow I nod my head. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, and popping this quick is not a part of it.

  I pick her up with one hand and throw her over my shoulder and carry her into my house. We make it through the doorway and I toss her backwards onto a lounge chair.

  She’s barely able to gasp out “what are you doing?” before I’m on her, sliding off her panties and kissing my way up her thighs.

  I need to taste her.

  Her hands clutch my head and I bury myself in the scent of her. Taste, touch, every bit about it is perfect.

  I could do this forever.

  The first kiss against the lips of her pussy is jolting and the first lick has her hips jerking like I’ve shocked her.

  “Lie back,” I whisper, gazing up at her.

  Instead, she reaches for cushions, moving them around and setting them behind her so she can prop herself up and watch me.

  “I want to see.”

  I smirk. I love an audience.

  My lips find her labia again and, gently, I explore her while my hands wander up and down her legs, brushing the backs of her thighs, gripping her ass.

  She watches me through half-closed eyes that flutter shut when I brush my tongue against her clit. Her hands wander over her body, caressing her tits, pinching her nipples.

  “That feels so fucking good,” she moans.

  I take my time. I lose myself in her scent, her taste, and watch out of the corner of my eye as she lets ecstasy take over her, arching her back, tossing her head back. Tension builds and I can feel how close she is to sweet release.

  I pause.

  She looks at me, and the look that dawns on her face as I wet my fingers is priceless. Her lips part in this ‘o’ as I slide first one, then two inside her and then wrap my lips around her clit, sucking it gently into just the right spot before I stroke it with my tongue.

  The sound she makes is music to my ears. A full, lusty moan that builds and builds as I stroke her clit with my tongue. She begins to tense and quiver as it builds inside her and I’m sure she’s going to crush my jaw with the way her thighs clamp tight against my face.

  “Julian, don’t stop.”

  When she comes, it’s like someone counted down 3…2…1… blast off as she bites down on one of the cushions and screams into it. Shaking, jerking, her body moving like she’s lost all control — it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  I hold her in place until her screams turn into moans and I can’t restrain myself any longer. I need to fuck her.

  “Are you ready?”

  A moan and a dreamy nod of her head is her only answer.

  I stand up and help her get up, too, leading her across the room, stopping only for a second to snatch one of the condoms I’d stashed earlier in one of the drawers underneath the coffee table.

  We stop in front of the huge windows in my lounge, the ones that look out over the entire city and the bay; a sprawling scene of twinkling lights.

  “Bend o
ver.”

  She puts both hands against the window, arches her back, and looks at me over her shoulder. Her eyes beg for me to take her.

  I aim to please.

  I enter her. Hot, tight heat envelopes my cock and a groan bursts out of my lips.

  She smiles wickedly, her eyes still on fire, and flexes, her pussy tightening on my cock even more.

  “God damn,” I gasp.

  She is the best kind of trouble, she wants nothing except to drain me of everything I’ve got. But I’m not going to let her finish me this early.

  I grab her by her hair, slowly pulling her head back and bringing her into line.

  I’m the one in charge.

  I start slow.

  I want this feeling to last forever. Gentle, starting a rhythm that builds and builds until she’s pressed hard against the window, head back, back arched, and hands clawing wildly at the glass while I fuck her like I own her.

  The whole world’s spread out beneath me while I fuck the hottest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  “Harder,” she urges me, her voice hoarse, urgent.

  Fuck yes.

  She’s almost flat against the glass, hanging on for dear life, these ragged moans coming from her while I fuck her deep. Sweat beads on her back and each thrust she makes a small grunt as she moves back against me, rocking her hips into my thrusts.

  “I’m close,” I moan. My whole body feels like a fuse that’s been lit, burning and burning until I’m about to explode.

  But I want something more from her. This isn’t just some one night stand and I need to hear her come again.

  I shift my hips and change my thrust until I hear her moan deepen, until I see her body twitch in the way that tells me I’ve hit just the spot.

  “Right there, fuck me right there,” she purrs.

  I slide in deep and she claws at the glass like a wild animal.

  “You feel so fucking good.”

  I grit my teeth and hold her tight by the hips while I fuck her. I need to hang on, I need to hear her come one last time before I lose it

  “Come for me,” I growl.

  That does it. She breaks just as I bury myself deep inside her.

  “Julian… I’m going to… Yes —” her voice drops off a cliff and her pussy seizes my cock in a vise.

  It’s too much.

  I push in deep — as deep as I can — to bury myself in her and I feel every ounce of who I am spill leave me as I come.

  We stand there for a minute, my chest pressed against her back, the two of us looking out over the city, my cock still throbbing and still rock hard and my head swimming with desire and thoughts about what the hell just happened.

  Melody reaches back and brushes my cheek with her fingertips. I kiss her hand.

  “Is this real?” She says.

  What is this, if it’s not real?

  The truth is, I can’t tell.

  I’ve never been in this situation, I’ve never fucked a woman and wanted to stay there, holding them — it’s always been fuck and leave, or fuck ‘em until we pass out and then remind them where the front door is in the morning.

  But I feel just as good holding Melody as I felt fucking her.

  What is this?

  I shake my head and let the common sense that comes after an orgasm bring me back to reality. Whatever it is, I can’t let it change what I set out to do. We have a deal, and something like love could get in the way.

  I need to keep us on track.

  “It’s just sex.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Melody

  I wake up in his arms feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck.

  My legs burn because having sex standing up is more of a workout than you’d think; my face is sore because Julian literally tried to fuck me into a window; my head hurts from too much champagne.

  But I have no regrets because rich people drink really delicious champagne and who knows how long I’m going to get to enjoy the high life. Plus, sex with Julian was even better than I imagined.

  What a night.

  Incredible and frustrating.

  I roll onto my side.

  He’s next to me. Naked, chiseled like some sort of Greek god, and there’s a cocky smile on his face even though he’s asleep.

  One thin sheet is all that’s between us and, as I sit up slowly a little bit, I look down and see it’s clinging to him in a way that shows off just how big he is.

  Thinking about last night and the way he took me, the way he made my body erupt in pleasure, lights up my face and makes my blood race and my pussy pulse with heat.

  Julian Stone is something special. He can be a commanding, hard-driving asshole sometimes, true, but just as likely, he’s commanding me to get pampered with an haute couture shopping spree or going to some rich charity event.

  So it’s not all bad.

  In fact, I think I might like it.

  And despite what he said, I’m sure I felt something. Maybe there is something between us. Maybe, all we need to do is talk and figure it out.

  Either way, I know that getting to the truth isn’t going to happen with an early morning argument. With a man like Julian, pushing and badgering isn’t going to get me anywhere.

  “Good morning,” he says. One vibrant green eye opens.

  His deep smooth voice slides over me like his billion-thread-count sheets, causing me to shiver.

  “Morning,” I say. “How’d we get in your bed?”

  He chuckles and sits up. The movement pulls the sheet away from his body, giving me a full view of his chest, abs, and his delicious dick.

  “You passed out after our fun against the window. So I carried you.”

  “Such a gentleman, especially for a fuck-buddy and business partner,” I say, kind of sarcastically. But still, deep down, I appreciate the thought.

  He throws a pillow at me and I barely duck it. “Only until this thing is over. Besides, I can’t ever think of a time it isn’t acceptable to take a naked woman into my bed.”

  “You don’t need to lie to your future wife, darling. It’s ok to admit you were being nice.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You up for some breakfast?”

  My stomach audibly grumbles as soon as I think about food. I’ve got a sex-hangover appetite.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says. “What’ll you have?”

  “I’ll have whatever you feel like cooking.”

  “I’m cooking nothing,” he says. “I’ve got the personal numbers to a dozen different Michelin-starred chefs in the city and a few others in the Bay area. Hell, if you wanted something really extravagant, like having Thomas Keller drive down from The French Laundry to make you waffles, we can do that.”

  I think about that for a second, marveling at the absurdity of it. The way Julian brought it up in such an offhand way feels like he’s done that before.

  “You don’t need to make a world famous chef drive down here to make waffles. I think.”

  Still, I’m kind of doubting my decision. It might be fun. And who doesn’t love a good waffle?

  “Alright. Sit tight. I’ve got just the thing.”

  He grabs his phone off the nightstand and makes a call. I hear some non-descript man’s voice answer ,and Julian and whoever chat for a minute like old friends, before he says, “Laurent, I need a favor — you can bill me whatever you want, I know this is short notice, but I need you to come over to my place and make up your usual breakfast spread. For two.”

  Whoever it is doesn’t even hesitate in agreeing.

  Julian hangs up and grins at me. “You’re in for a treat.”

  “What’ll we do in the meantime?” I say.

  He crawls towards me across the bed, perching above me. “I can think of a few things.”

  I have barely a second to gasp before he pins my arms above my head.

  Laughing, I wrap my legs around his back and give myself over to him.

  I’m all his.

  *
* * * *

  This isn’t breakfast.

  This is a royal feast.

  Some French guy in a full chef’s uniform shows up, bearing baskets of pastries and bags of ingredients, and puts on a full cooking masterclass in Julian’s kitchen. This acclaimed chef is here just for us, just because Julian called him. Things are so different in this world.

  The chef cooks eggs five different ways — scrambled, poached, coddled, in an omlette, and he confits egg yolks to grate over the egg dishes so it’s like some sort of egg Inception — and makes sausages by hand. He prepares lobster eggs benedict, and genuinely does everything humanly possible to make me eat until I want to burst.

  I eat and eat until embarrassment makes me stop. The food is so good.

  How does he not eat like this every day? How is he not a thousand pound blob, instead of the athletic man that’s sitting beside me at the table, stuffing his face just as much as I am?

  The chef leaves and Julian and I leave our dishes for the housekeeping staff and we sit down next to each other in his huge lounge. I look out over the city, but, really, my mind is dwelling on last night and just what it actually means for the two of us.

  “We need to talk,” he says, reading my mind.

  I’d roll my eyes at him if I weren’t so full, but, as it is, I make some general noise that says duh.

  At least he brought it up.

  “I’m serious,” he says again. “Don’t duh me.”

  I turn towards him, even though any abdominal movement right now hurts. I feel like a balloon about to pop.

  “Let’s talk about it. Right now. What are we?” I say.

  He raises one eyebrow. “We’re two adults who made a business arrangement. That’s it. That’s what it has to be, because this deal has a definitive end, and anything else would just complicate it.”

  “We had sex, Julian. You fucked me right over there,” I say, pointing to the window. “Then you carried me to bed. That isn’t nothing. Not to me.”

  “I promised you the truth, just as you promised me the same. And the truth is, we can’t let this be anything more than the fake relationship it already is. Otherwise, someone is going to get hurt.”

  “How can you be so fucking callous?”