Fauxmance

by L.H. Cosway

  “Must be room service,” I said and reluctantly broke away. Ellen’s eyes were still closed, her mouth slightly open, like she hadn’t fully recovered from our make-out session. I slid her off my lap and went to open the door. She sat dreamy-eyed on the armchair while our food was rolled in on a cart. After I tipped the hotel worker, she left, and I lifted the metal cover. The food looked delicious, but I’d much rather go back to kissing Ellen.

  I opened the wine and poured her a glass, feeling she might need it. My gaze lingered on her reddened lips as I handed it to her. She took it in a daze.

  “You look so fuckable right now.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied without looking at me.

  I laughed. “You’re getting better at flirting, but you need to work on your eye contact.”

  I held her gaze, lifted one of the plates and brought it over. Kneeling down, I placed it on her lap, forked up some of the mushroom risotto that accompanied the chicken and held it to her mouth. She ate, doing her best not to look away. I fed her another few bites, watching her throat as she swallowed. I found it inordinately sexy.

  When she seemed to have had enough, I put the plate aside, then took her wine and placed it on the coffee table. I took her hand and led her over to the bed. Without speaking, I started to undress her, slowly, sensuously. I enjoyed taking the lead with Ellen, relished how all the little ways I took charge produced a reaction in her.

  I lifted her dress over her head. Underneath she wore a black lace bra and knickers, the dark colour highlighting her lovely skin. To my delight, she wasn’t wearing tights but hold-up stockings. A grin tugged on my lips as I ran my fingers along the lacy edge.

  “Did you wear these for me?”

  “Yes,” she replied breathily.

  I wanted to lick and bite every inch of her. I climbed onto the bed, gazing down at her with what I imagined was sheer carnal passion. When she started to clam up, I wrapped my fingers around her ankle. She gasped at the contact as I lifted her leg and threw it over my shoulder. Then I nestled my shoulders between her thighs, bent and pressed a kiss to the lace covering her pussy.

  “W-what are you doing?” she whispered breathlessly.

  I didn’t reply, and instead slid the fabric of her underwear to the side. She was so pretty, so wet, I couldn’t resist a taste. I swept my tongue along her folds and her back arched. She gripped my shoulders and let out a sharp cry of pleasure.

  “That’s it, let yourself go,” I urged, gazing up at her.

  She was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ellen

  What was happening?

  The soft, fluttery, wet sensation of Julian’s tongue on my vagina was by far the best thing I’d ever felt. He was like a God below me, so practiced, so confident and sure of himself.

  I was in a hotel room with a male escort, receiving oral sex for the first time in my life.

  It felt like some sexy alternative reality. Definitely not something that would be happening to me.

  But then Julian held my gaze, flicked his tongue around my clit, sending spikes of awareness all through my body. This was very real, no doubt about it.

  “Y-yes, like that,” I urged and my encouragement seemed to please him.

  He smiled as he closed his eyes and sucked hard on my clit. Both his hands spanned my waist, his fingers delicate yet masculine at the same time. They weren’t fingers that had done manual labour, but they were fingers that had spent a lifetime pleasuring women.

  When he opened his sultry, hazel eyes, they seemed to look right into my soul. In that moment, Julian wasn’t an ordinary human, he was an otherworldly, supernatural being, sent to earth purely to seduce the female population.

  He was certainly too beautiful to be human sometimes.

  “Tell me when you’re going to come,” he rasped then went straight back to work.

  I nodded, my entire body flushing as I fisted his hair. It was the first time I appreciated its length. You could really grab a hold of it. For a second, I wondered about all the other women who’d done exactly the same thing but pushed the thought aside.

  I wouldn’t think of that tonight. Tonight was all about enjoying myself.

  Speaking of, Julian started doing this fluttery thing with his tongue and I almost came. Was there a female equivalent of premature ejaculation? It was embarrassing, but it wasn’t my fault. Years of nothing but masturbation and my own imagination meant the real thing was pretty fucking mind-blowing.

  I arched my hips and he palmed my thighs, fingertips digging in, his eyes urging me to let go. When he dipped his mouth and slid his tongue inside me, I moaned loud. His tongue returned to my clit, laying on just the right amount of pressure at just the right tempo.

  He really was a pro.

  “Julian,” I breathed as I came. My stomach muscles clenched, my spine arched further, but he didn’t let up. He continued to lick until he drained every ounce of my orgasm. When it finally petered out, I fell into the pillows, boneless.

  Julian removed his shirt then wrapped his arms around me, tucking me tight to his body so that we were spooning.

  “That was very pretty to watch, Ellen,” he purred in my ear.

  I smiled, too blissed out to reply. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but there was something comforting about lying in bed with him, something peaceful.

  When I woke up, it was a little chilly. I realised why when I sat up and saw the window was open. Julian sat on the ledge, shirtless and smoking a cigarette. He stared out at the city skyline, his expression thoughtful.

  “I didn’t know you smoked,” I said, breaking the silence. I was also pretty sure smoking wasn’t allowed in the hotel, but I didn’t mention that.

  Turning to face me, he took the last drag then flicked the butt out the window.

  “I don’t, not normally. Funnily, it’s the one thing I never became addicted to.”

  “Is it a post-coital ritual?”

  His mouth twitched. “Something like that. Although, technically we didn’t have “coitus” yet.”

  I laughed and flopped back into the pillows. “Don’t call it coitus, you weirdo.”

  “Hey, when you’re as experienced I am, you have to come up with new words for sex. Keeps things interesting.”

  He came and hopped on the bed, holding himself up on an elbow as he gazed down at me, those eyes of his sparkling with energy. Julian was so alive, and he made you feel alive right along with him.

  “How do you feel?”

  I remembered what we did before I fell asleep and self-consciousness kicked in. “Fine. A little tired.”

  He feigned a sad face. “What? You aren’t a changed woman? I’ve been told my style of cunnilingus has miraculous transformative qualities.”

  I chuckled at that. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll never be the same. You’ve changed me, Julian Fairchild.”

  He gave a devilish look. “Have I corrupted you though? Because that’s my main goal.”

  “I’m definitely a little corrupted.”

  He flopped back and threw his hands above his head. “Another successful evening then.”

  We lay in quiet for a few minutes. I thought on what he said, about cigarettes being the one thing he hadn’t become addicted to. Did that mean he used to do drugs?

  I turned over to face him and ran my fingers across his chest. He closed his eyes and made a masculine noise of satisfaction, seeming to enjoy it.

  “Julian?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “What drugs were you addicted to?”

  For a second, he almost appeared to stop breathing. Then he exhaled slowly and opened his eyes. “I might’ve been with a lot of women in my time, but heroin was my greatest love affair and the hardest to let go of.”

  I was taken aback. I’d never met anyone who used heroin before. When I thought of those people, I saw skinny, unwashed, gaunt faces, dark circles under the eyes. I couldn’t picture Jul
ian like that. He was too vibrant.

  “What age were you?”

  He stared at the ceiling. “Seventeen when I started using. Twenty-one when Rose locked me in my room and forced me to go cold turkey. After that, there was a long period of rehabilitation.”

  I studied his profile, so peaceful looking. His life must’ve been pretty tumultuous once upon a time. “Why did you start?” I whispered.

  He didn’t answer right away, and I got the sense he wasn’t too keen to talk about it. Still, he replied eventually. “When Rose and I met, after our mothers became polyamorous, believe it or not, that was the better part of my childhood.”

  “It was?”

  His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Before that, Mum had a lot of different boyfriends. I didn’t know it back then, but I would one day inherit her promiscuity, though I’m far more selective who I sleep with nowadays. Mum was never selective. Several of her boyfriends were abusive. They’d beat her up then move on to me. Unsurprisingly, I became a troubled child, and predators have a way of seeing victims coming. The year she was with Charlie was the worst of my life. His abuse wasn’t physical but sexual. I was only twelve years old.”

  He spoke in a flat voice, devoid of emotion, like the past he recalled didn’t happen to him but to a stranger. He went quiet and my heart thrummed in my chest. His story was shocking, but I was also upset and angry for him. No kid should have to go through something like that.

  “I had a hole in me for a long time. When I found heroin, it was a way to fill it up.”

  I didn’t realise I had tears in my eyes until I spoke, my voice watery. “Julian, that’s awful.” I reached out to stroke his hair away from his face, and he seemed to appreciate my touch. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” I told him softly.

  His eyes flicked open, his expression wry. “I’m not strong, I’m just stubborn. I don’t give up easy.”

  I didn’t agree, but I also didn’t argue. I was still reeling from his past, and I felt honoured that he was comfortable enough to share it with me. Something in my chest unfurled, a new and unfamiliar feeling. It was an affection for Julian, but it felt bigger, stronger, more intense, and also worrisome.

  I rubbed at my chest, telling myself it would subside. It was a product of spending the evening together. We’d grown closer, that was all.

  I refused to accept any other explanation, no matter how it pitter-pattered on the fringes of my brain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Julian

  “My God, don’t tell me you’re reading those damn books, too,” I said when I entered my flat.

  Rose and Damon were in the city for a press junket for Damon’s latest film, Sunset Over Lancashire. It was his first gangster flick. Rose said he played a crime boss with a dark past and I knew Damon would nail the edgy role.

  Currently though, the actor lounged on my couch, a Sasha Orlando novel in hand. He couldn’t be further from a brooding crime boss as he gave a sheepish look. “Rose got me into them. They’re pretty addictive.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “How do you know? She said you refuse to read them.”

  “I’m familiar with several of the storylines,” I replied, thinking of Ellen. I wondered if she realised just how popular those books were, because if she continued to claim parts of the stories as her own, she was eventually going to come across someone who’d already read them. Since she worked in a bookshop, she must’ve known. Maybe she enjoyed flirting with disaster. I still hadn’t confronted her about it, but perhaps it wasn’t relevant anymore.

  Our relationship had evolved. We’d been intimate.

  For the most part, I slept with people for money. Yes, I savoured the pleasure that came along with it, the connection, the feeling of being desired, but all that was secondary. With Ellen though, the money was unimportant. I desired her in a way I hadn’t desired anyone in a long time. Such arrangements were always tumultuous, but a part of me relished the drama, the heightened emotions, the insurmountable, drugging lust.

  When she’d asked to hire me at the Bransons’ party, I’d been conflicted. Mostly because I wanted her so badly I was prepared to go about any means of having her, and that was normally a bad sign.

  For weeks she’d bewitched me as Elodie, and now I was going to get to know the deepest, darkest parts of Ellen. Going down on her at the hotel last night had been intense. I’d savoured every moment, every little shiver and sigh, the way she looked when she came. She didn’t feel like a client, she felt like a lover. I frowned at the troubling realisation.

  “I’m on book three,” Damon said, breaking me from my thoughts. “I actually think this series would make an excellent movie franchise. Did Rose mention I’ve been looking to get into directing?”

  “No, she didn’t. You’re considering those books?” I asked with interest. Damon making his directorial debut would be very big news in the entertainment world.

  “I was, but I inquired about the rights and apparently the author refuses to sell them. She’s very reclusive. So far nobody’s been able to make an offer that she’ll accept.”

  I gave him a conciliatory look. “That’s too bad.”

  Rose emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “Well, if this isn’t the start of a porno I don’t know what is,” I teased.

  She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know what sort of pornography you watch.”

  I gave a saucy smile. “The kind where a fresh-faced beauty walks out of the shower and gets DP’ed by two handsome, strapping young men who just so happen to be hanging about.”

  “That’s wrong on so many levels.” Damon frowned down at his book.

  “Hey, you signed up for all this when you got with Rose,” I said, gesturing to myself. “We’re a package deal.”

  Rose glanced at Damon. “Don’t listen to him. He just likes to shock people.”

  “He’s well aware of my MO by now, I’m sure.” I followed Rose into the spare bedroom.

  “Have you just gotten home? You were out when we arrived last night.”

  “Yes, I was working.” Sort of.

  “Well, we’ll just be here for three days and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “But I love when you’re in my hair. You know I don’t like to be alone.”

  “Speaking of which, you haven’t been calling as often as usual. Is there something I should know about?”

  “Or someone,” I replied. She was clearly hedging for information, but I never minded indulging Rose. She was my best friend, my confidante, my sister from another mister. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Ellen, actually.”

  “Elodie’s sister?”

  “Yes, we’ve become pals.”

  “What about Elodie?”

  “Elodie’s…complicated.”

  Rose moved about the room, pulling outfits from her suitcase and hanging them in the wardrobe. I admired a pretty, embroidered dress. She must’ve been planning to wear it to Damon’s premiere.

  “How is she complicated?” she asked as she studied the dress, then carefully hung it up.

  I wondered if I should just tell her the truth. Rose would never reveal Ellen’s secret, and besides, it would be good to get some perspective. I sat down on the bed, ran my hand over the pale duvet cover. “Well, Elodie and Ellen are actually the same person.”

  She paused her unpacking to look at me, one eyebrow slowly rising. “Okay, you’re going to need to explain that.”

  I huffed a breath and fell back into the pillows. “This is going to sound crazy, and it is crazy, so bear with me. You see, Ellen has problems interacting with people. She’s shy…no, that’s not the right word. Think of how reclusive Damon was when you two first met and multiply it by ten. She lives in a big house all by her herself, but aside from her part-time job at the bookshop, she rarely goes out. So, she invented Elodie to overcome her social phobia.”

  “Wait, Elodie is what? A persona?”

  “Yes.”
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  Rose shook her head. “I swear to God, Julian, I don’t know where you find these people.”

  “I found her at the Polka Dot Café.”

  “You know what I mean. Dressing up and pretending to be someone else isn’t normal. She could have deeper issues.”

  “Yes, her deeper issue is a fear of social interaction. And I love the abnormal, you know that.”

  “Right, but why is she so scared of social interaction? People don’t just wake up one day and fear the outside world. There’s usually a reason.”

  “I don’t think there is a reason. It’s just how she is.”

  “Hmmm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  What Rose said made me think. Perhaps I’d been naïve to believe Ellen didn’t have some deeper internal issues. After all, my entire way of life was the result of many, many internal issues that started out from when I was a young boy.

  A few moments of quiet fell between us while Rose finished unpacking and hanging up her clothes.

  “I see you’ve managed to hook your fiancé on those books you’re so obsessed with,” I commented.

  She grinned, looking pleased. “Yep, and I’ll get you reading them soon enough. By the way, have you any plans for dinner?”

  “Nope. I’m free as a bird.”

  “Good. I’m making my special beef casserole and I think I might’ve bought too much food. You can invite David over if you like.”

  Her offer got me thinking. “Can I invite Ellen instead?” I didn’t want to wait days to see her again, and this way she got to officially meet Rose.

  She studied me, considering it. “I guess it could be helpful for me to meet her, just to make sure she isn’t a complete nutcase.”

  “She’s not a nutcase. In fact, I have a feeling you two are going to get along.”

  “All right, then. Invite her, but maybe give her some advance warning about Damon. People tend to get a little starstruck.”