The Sham (Convenience Book 1)

by Stella Gray

  It’s an innocent comment, another thread of small talk that I don’t want to engage in. The hot, jealous anger inside me keeps growing. I feel suffocated. A dismissive, sarcastic sound makes its way out of me as I take a sip of the moscato.

  “Are you sure this is a party to celebrate the agency, and not just a reunion for all the women in your little black book?” I say.

  “What?” Luka’s eyebrows shoot up and he makes a cursory glance around. “I didn’t sleep with everyone here.” His tone says otherwise.

  He takes a quick drink of water and I slide my hand out of the crook of his arm and gulp from my wine glass, ignoring the judgmental gazes all around me. I point at the redhead.

  “That one over there? It’s obvious you slept with her. Everyone in the room knows it.” It’s like I can’t stop. I can’t hold my tongue and I can’t tamp down the bite in my voice. I nod to the belly-dancing blonde in the corner. “And what about her?”

  He shrugs and thinks a moment, then looks away. I’ve never seen Luka truly uncomfortable, but he is right now. I’m doing this to him…but I can’t seem to reel myself in.

  “Right.” I look pointedly at a brunette. “Her too?”

  His eyes darken and narrow as he searches my face. I single out another woman and nod my head. “What about that one? She hasn’t stopped looking at your dick since we walked in.”

  “You need to stop,” Luka says, his voice low. “Let’s just have a nice night out together.”

  I’d like to do that—but the thing is, he hasn’t denied a single accusation, which only flames my white-hot jealousy.

  “It’s too late for that,” I hiss, glaring up at him.

  “Come here.” Luka slips his fingers over my bicep and pulls me closer to him, dipping his head as if we’re having a pleasant conversation. The tension rolling off him says otherwise. I’ve pushed him too far. This isn’t like me at all, yet I can’t find the sense to feel guilty about all the accusations I’ve made.

  And now I’m going to pay for it.

  “You want me to tell you about every woman in this room that I’ve fucked, Brooklyn? Huh? Does your dirty little mind want to hear every scandalous detail?”

  I shake my head, but it’s too late. His handsome face has gone dead serious, clouded by a dark expression I’ve never seen before. It scares and arouses me all at the same time.

  “Don’t—” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “The blonde swinging her hips like that? You should see the way she moves when I have my finger in her ass. And that’s nothing compared to what she’s capable of when I’m pounding on her G-spot. It’s sexy as fuck.”

  My mouth drops open, my stomach clenching and my cheeks going hot.

  “That brunette over there, with the legs for days?” he goes on. “Her knees were wrapped around my head so tight I thought she’d break my neck. ‘Xena,’ I called her.”

  He pounds back another drink of water as if it’s hard liquor and gives a nod of greeting to a dark-skinned woman decked out in fire-engine red as she saunters by. “That one used to be a gymnast. So incredibly flexible. Good thing, because the broom closet I fucked her in wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun if she hadn’t been able to fold up the way she did.”

  “Stop it,” I whisper, a sick feeling roiling in my gut.

  A slow, wicked grin crosses his face as he watches yet another woman with raven-black hair go by. “And her. She screamed so loud, we got kicked out of the Hilton. Twice.”

  I’m pulling breath in through my nose, my chest heaving to the point that I can’t control it. I’m seconds away from throwing my wine in his face. These feelings inside me are shocking and I don’t know what to do with them. This isn’t me. I’ve never been the jealous type. Hell, this isn’t even a real relationship. But Luka is driving me to the brink.

  I feel possessive, jilted and enraged and so damn aroused, with no outlet for it. I want to pull his hair, scratch at him. Shove him and then pull him closer. I want him to tangle with me until we’re sweaty and naked and my thighs are squeezing the hell out of his hot, smug face.

  I set down my glass on a table, intending to head to the ladies’ room where I can hide in a stall and collect myself. But I can’t hold back one last jab before I go.

  “Funny how you recall every tiny little detail of your whoring with these women, yet you don’t have a single memory of fucking your own fiancée.”

  His face goes cold. I start to storm away from him, but his strong hands grip my hips and pull me back.

  Luka spins me, his eyes blazing as he crushes my body up against his. “You tasted like blackberries and sin, and I’m not talking about your mouth. Which, I have to tell you, is my second favorite taste ever. And how could I forget the look on your face when you came, the feel of your soaking wet pussy rutting against my tongue while I devour you—it’s all etched in my memory so completely, it’s the first thing I see every night when I close my eyes.”

  He’s pulled me away from the bar and into a corner. We’re still in the way of heavy traffic but I barely notice anyone else. I can’t believe it. All this time he’s known, and he’s said nothing. The anger inside starts to cool. I’m simply stunned.

  “So, you do remember me.”

  “Fuck, I never forgot you. How the hell could I ever forget you?”

  Luka’s lips crash onto mine, his tongue invading my mouth as he pulls me in and consumes me. I moan loudly, my hands wrapping around his head to hold him closer. He feasts on me and my body starts to quiver. I want that mouth all over me. Right now.

  People whisper louder. I don’t care.

  Let them see how much I want my fiancé for all I care.

  “Luka,” I gasp as I grab the collar of his shirt. “Limo. Now.”

  Brooklyn

  Chapter 15

  Luka slips the limo driver a few crisp bills and tells him to go get himself a drink, and then just like that, we’re alone in the back seat.

  The partition is up, and the windows are blacked out, but even if they weren’t, I don’t think I’d have a mind to care. All I can think about is ripping Luka’s clothes off and climbing him like a tree. He urges me down onto the seat, on my back, his strong body hovering over me. Our eyes catch for a second before his mouth is on mine again, and that’s all it takes for me to lose complete control. I rip at his tux jacket until it slides off his shoulders, then tug at the buttons on his dress shirt, not caring that his tie is in the way. I just need to feel his bare skin under my palms.

  “Careful,” he barks, his hands at the hem of my dress. “You’re going to pop the buttons.”

  “Shut up,” I sass him.

  Finally getting his shirt open, I slip a hand over his chest and moan at the warm hardness of his naked body. Luka growls against my lips, his hands roughly bunching my skirt fabric up over my hips. I slap his hand and cock my head back.

  “Don’t wrinkle the silk, you beast.”

  “You think I give a damn about your dress? I’m just trying to get to your pussy.”

  I take a fistful of his hair and make him look at me. “Who says you’re getting my pussy?”

  His hands cup my face and hold me tight. “I do.”

  He kisses me, deep and hard, until I’m panting. Pulling away, I gently untie the halter behind my neck and slip the dress over my head, draping it flat on the seat across from us.

  “Fuck, yes.” The hunger on his face deepens as he realizes I wasn’t wearing anything at all beneath the dress.

  My body is spread out bare for him, and if I’m not careful, my heart will be too. I loop my hands around his neck and pull him back down to me. His lips trail down the side of my neck and work their way to my breast, and then he sucks my nipple into his mouth.

  “Ahh,” I moan. It’s like I can feel the pressure of his tongue all the way down to my clit.

  I’ve been so eager for this to happen, but I haven’t been able to admit it to myself. And now that we’ve crossed the line, the flo
odgates are wide open, my sexual frustration finally coming to a head so intensely that I can’t stop myself from giving in to all my animal instincts.

  I arch my back, wanting more, and he sucks harder. One hand slides down my belly, his fingers pausing at the top of my mound.

  “What the hell are you waiting for?” I growl, jerking upright to press myself into his hand, but he keeps his fingers there, just above where I need him to touch me the most. Is he teasing me?

  With an impatient little whimper, I take his hand and move it down to my pussy lips, rubbing myself against him. Luka chuckles with my nipple in his mouth and begins to stroke me. I spread my legs as far as I can on the narrow seat and shift my ass toward the edge to give him better access.

  Luka puts one knee on the floor and works his mouth down…over my ribs, my belly, the arch of my hip. I moan loudly as he strokes my clit with two fingers, alternating pressure between hard and soft. The sweet tension of impending orgasm is already building. I’m not going to be able to hold back. It’s been too damn long, and he’s way too skilled with his mouth.

  Suddenly, his tongue replaces his fingers and he’s lapping me up, feasting and sucking at my clit. Glancing down at his dark head between my thighs, I wonder why I’ve fought this so stubbornly. The sensations are unbelievable, and I feel myself sinking down as wave after wave of hot ecstasy washes over me. It’s the best drunk I’ve ever been—my head and body heavy and light at the same time. Every nerve standing on end just waiting to feel his touch.

  “God, you’re good at that,” I groan, grinding against his tongue. “Don’t stop.”

  Luka shifts to slide his fingers into my soaked hole as he sucks harder on my clit, moaning so my whole pussy feels the vibrations of his mouth, and when he starts to pump his hand in a pounding rhythm, I can’t stop myself from coming fast and hard.

  I cry out, my voice loud and jagged, not caring if anyone outside can hear. My body has taken over, thighs tight around Luka’s head, milking every last second of pleasure. When he finally rises from between my legs, his gaze triumphant but tender, something pulls at my heart.

  It’s the same sensation that pushed my jealous anger earlier. Of all the women in that room tonight, he chose me. He could have had any of them—again—but here he is, in the back of this limo, with his hands all over his fiancée. Keeping his promise not to sleep around during our arranged relationship. Is it possible he really cares about me? Or is this all part of the deal?

  Before I can think about it more, Luka moves closer and I reach for the zipper on his pants, pulling it down and releasing his thick, glorious cock. It springs free, hard and ready, the head glistening with pre-cum. I grab his ass in both hands and urge him toward me.

  With a wicked grin, he climbs further along the seat. I sit up just enough to meet him as his cock lines up with my mouth, the tip just brushing my wet lips. I open up and pull him in, stroking long and hard with my tongue and sucking deep until he hits the back of my throat. He groans a couple of curses, his pleasure driving me to suck him harder, longer, pulling him in and pushing him out. He swells in my mouth and I grip his bare ass tighter to keep him inside of me.

  Luka starts to thrust his hips, working his cock in and out of my mouth as he looks down to watch. He’s bracing himself with one hand on the back of the seat while the other holds up the hem of his shirt so he can watch me suck him off.

  “Yeah,” he groans. “Take all of it. Every fucking inch. You like that?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I moan around his length.

  His taste is heady in my mouth and I love it. Pressing my thighs together as my lust starts to grow, I realize that Mateo was right: I’ve been missing out by denying both of us this pleasure. It’s fucking amazing. Luka suddenly pulls out of my mouth and shifts so he can bend down to kiss me. I close my eyes as I dig my fingers into his hair, lost in the tangle of our tongues.

  I’m into this, I realize. Like, really into this. Making out with Luka feels good, sucking him off feels good, and it’s obvious he enjoys putting his mouth on me. Maybe this could be more than just a transactional arrangement, or a shared opportunity for solidifying our futures. Maybe, if we’re open to it…this could actually turn out to be something real.

  Luka moves between my thighs and adjusts my legs so they wrap around him. Then he lines up the tip of his cock at my entrance and pushes in just enough that he fills my opening. Then he stops.

  “Ooh,” I gasp, digging my nails into his back. He’s so big, I’m practically throbbing around him.

  Spreading my pussy lips, he stays where he is and slides a finger down to circle my sensitive clit. The sensations are too much and not enough, his cock unmoving but stretching me wide, his fingers working their magic all the while. He strokes me until I’m nearly vibrating off the seat, his hard length still buried inside me, making me ache for him to pound fully into me. The tension is almost painful, and I hear myself whimpering, “Fuck me, please, Luka, fuck me.”

  “Yes,” he groans, thrusting his cock all the way inside, filling me completely.

  My breath catches in my throat and for a moment we just cling to each other, both of us gasping for air. Then he starts to move, slowly and then faster, working steady and deep inside my pussy. His name flies from my lips and I toss my head back against the seat. It’s all I can do to hang onto him as he fucks me while working my clit.

  “You feel so good,” he pants, picking up the pace. “So…fucking…good.”

  Another orgasm is building, and I squeeze my legs tighter around Luka’s waist and bury my face in his neck. I don’t ever want him to stop. I think I’m actually seeing stars.

  “I’m coming,” I murmur, kissing his jaw, his mouth, his cheeks.

  Suddenly, I shatter with the most intense climax of my life. It pulses from deep within my core, moving outward in radiating waves of bliss. My fingers and toes and scalp tingle as pleasure rolls over me and I hear myself crying out, but I can’t tell how loud. It’s just his name, over and over until he pulls out and finishes in a hot spray over my belly.

  Wide-eyed and dazed, I watch him stroke off the last of his release, his face clenched in pleasure, lips parted. With a final exhale, he comes down off his high and opens his eyes. I smile lazily. All the anger I’d had earlier is gone. My body is light and sated and for the first time in a while, things just seem right.

  He averts his gaze when I try to catch it, grabs a few tissues from the box across the seat, and gently cleans me up. I sit and stretch my arms above my head.

  “How bad is my lipstick right now?” I joke. Maybe from now on we can be more lighthearted with each other, less formal and walled-off.

  He looks quickly at me, then focuses on pulling on his shirt and getting his pants back on. I wait for him to answer me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he dresses with practiced quickness, and before I have a chance to reach for my dress, he’s completely put back together.

  I hitch a brow, a sinking feeling suddenly spreading in my gut.

  He pulls at his cuffs and straightens his cufflinks. “Since my brother has banned me from fucking our models, I’ve had to leave every one of these events with blue balls like you wouldn’t believe. Having you around is very convenient. Thanks for the help.”

  And just like that, I remember exactly who he is.

  Nausea rises in my throat. He reaches for the door handle. Quickly, I grab my dress and cover myself just as he opens the door and slips out, slamming the door behind him.

  I stare after him as if he’s going to pop back in with a big smile and a “just kidding.” But, of course, that won’t happen.

  Luka used me.

  Just like he used every woman at the party.

  I’m too shocked and gutted to drum up tears. Sitting there, clutching my dress, I stare into space until my skin grows cold and pebbles with gooseflesh. I can’t believe I allowed that to happen. I had sex with my fake fiancé, the one rule I was so adamant about not breaking.

  And in re
turn, he threw it in my face and broke the thread of faith I was starting to have in him. I have to go back inside to the party, but I’m not sure how I’m going to keep it together.

  The only thing I do know with one-hundred-percent certainty is that Luka just showed me who he really is—who I am—and it’s the last time I’ll let myself forget it.

  This will never, ever happen again.

  Brooklyn

  Chapter 16

  After all these years, all those pounded pavements, the endless revolving door of hopeful auditions and crushing rejections and the small-time gigs I hustled for that kept me going but just couldn’t launch my career…perfume is taking me national.

  I don’t care for most perfume, personally, but if this is what’s going to put my face in the pages of every popular beauty magazine and on a billboard in Times Square, I’ll take a bath in it.

  I was so nervous this morning that I ended up arriving a few minutes early, and now I’m standing here in the studio glancing around at all the chaos with sweet, but tense, anticipation. Admittedly, I’m a tad overwhelmed. I’ve done plenty of shoots before, but this is a really big deal. It’s my first campaign as a Danica Rose model, and it’s a doozy. I’m going to be the face of a brand new celebrity perfume called “Soirée” and there’s a lot riding on my success.

  “The photographer is all set up and ready to go,” Luka says, coming up to me. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m great,” I lie. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything that I almost forgot Luka accompanied me. He wanted to oversee the shoot—not as my fiancé, of course, but as a DRM exec who needs to shake hands and ensure all goes well with the company’s newest signed face.

  Luka checks his watch. “Almost time for the walk-through. The photographer will show you the set with the stylist and you’ll get some notes on what’s expected of you. After that you’ll sit for hair and makeup and then go to wardrobe.”