Fauxmance

by L.H. Cosway

  He wanted me.

  It was a powerful feeling, to be wanted.

  “Julian?”

  “Yes?” he breathed.

  I swallowed, forcing myself to be brave when I said, “I want you to fuck me.”

  In a heartbeat he was on me, our skin flush. I adored the feel of him, his heat, his hardness against my softness. I felt his cock press against my inner thigh, his hips moving in a slow, hypnotic rhythm while he kissed and sucked at my neck.

  He reached for his dresser, opened the drawer and pulled out a condom. I watched, riveted, while he tore it open and slid it on. It was something he’d probably done a thousand times before, but I didn’t want to think about that. Besides, what was transpiring between us felt too important, too real. Anything that happened in the past didn’t matter.

  It was just us. Here. Now.

  “Still okay?” he asked as he readied to push inside me.

  I bit my lip and nodded, tensing up a little. Julian shook his head. “That won’t do. I want you relaxed.” He reached down between our bodies and fingered my clit. My eyes rolled back in my head. He nipped my chin, his voice raspy. “Come for me.”

  His movements sped up and I came in a quick, intense burst. He obviously had magic fingers. I was languid now, my body ready for him. He didn’t give me a chance to come down from my high, instead thrusting inside of me. Involuntarily, I moaned and gripped his shoulders.

  “Give me your eyes, Ellen,” he coaxed.

  I met his gaze and he thrust into me deep. I felt a stretch, my body expanding for him, welcoming him. He never looked away while he fucked me, and I was captured in his spell. I suspected sex with Julian wasn’t like ordinary sex. It was an experience, almost a performance on his part. One where he gave you his entire self and demanded all of you in return.

  I was his, completely and irrevocably.

  Julian gripped my thigh, hitching it up and around his hip so that he could enter me from a deeper angle.

  “Oh, my G…” I gasped, unable to finish the sentence when he swallowed my words with a kiss. His tongue plundered my mouth with abandon, his hips pounding wildly.

  My inner muscles tightened around him and he groaned loudly into our kiss, his lips sliding lusciously from my mouth, across my cheek and to my ear where he whispered, “Your pussy likes me.”

  God, he really knew how to talk dirty. And he sounded so pleased with himself.

  He bent to suck my nipple, swirling his tongue in a circle then giving it a little bite.

  I whimpered. “J-Julian.”

  “I love how my name sounds on your sexy mouth.” He laved attention on the other breast, hand reaching up to grip my neck. His fingertips dug in as his thrusts quickened. I was mesmerised.

  Was he going to come?

  Julian gathered my hair in his fist and gave a little tug. I emitted a startled moan, the pain he gave mixing with the pleasure. Goose bumps covered my skin when he kissed my lips, softly, sweetly, then came with a whispered, raspy, “Fuck.”

  He fell on top of me and my body savoured his hot, sweaty weight. His smelled like pure man. I swore you could bottle and sell the stuff.

  He rolled us so we switched and I was on top of him. He was still trying to catch his breath when he asked, “Can you go again?”

  I giggled. “You’re insatiable.”

  He smirked. “Something like that.”

  “Just…give me a moment.”

  His deep chuckle vibrated through my body as his arms came around me, hugging tight. “That good, huh?”

  “Good is too tame a word,” I said, suddenly shy.

  His hand sunk into my hair, gently stroking. “Compliments like that are always welcome.”

  “I can’t believe we just did that.”

  His ran his nose along the side of my neck. “I’m not even done with you yet.”

  A grin tugged at my lips. “You’re aren’t?”

  His smile was devilish. “Not by a long shot.”

  “You have a very impressive sexual appetite, Mr. Fairchild.”

  “It’s a good thing, too,” he purred. “I have so much to teach you.”

  He flipped us again, lowered his head between my legs and proceeded to give me my second orgasm of the night, this time with his mouth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ellen

  I was…changed.

  In the space of a night, I’d shed some form of chrysalis. However, unlike a butterfly, it wasn’t evident on the surface, but rather deep under my skin. The fact that I could share myself like that with someone, expose the most vulnerable parts of myself, felt liberating in a way nothing ever had before.

  And it was all because of Julian.

  I didn’t leave his bed until late afternoon the next day. His hunger for me didn’t seem to abate. He made love to me in all the ways I’d been missing out on these past years, and my body was completely and totally spent. It was also waking up, unfurling like a newly sprouted flower.

  My feelings grew, just like I feared they would.

  “Don’t leave yet. I want to fuck you one last time.”

  Julian lay in bed, the cover coming to his midriff, his gorgeous chest and abdomen exposed.

  “I can’t. I have a book to write,” I resisted, getting dressed. It was nice to be able to say that now. All our secrets were finally out. Absently, I wondered if Rose and Damon had heard us last night (and this morning), and colour stained my cheeks.

  “What’s that?” Julian asked with interest, rising from the bed to circle me. “Have you gone shy on me again?”

  “No, I just…” A breathy sigh came out as he ran his hand down my spine. “I really do need to work today.”

  He tutted softly. “Too bad. I was looking forward to coming inside you again.”

  I buried my head in his shoulder, falling into him. His dirty words made me weak. “You could come over later,” I suggested shyly.

  “No,” he said. “You come here. I’ve quite enjoyed having you in my bed.”

  I shivered and glanced at his mussed sheets, the ones we’d spent half the night shagging on. His gaze followed mine, his expression hot. Tenderly, he stroked my hair away from my face. When he looked at me like that, all melty soft eyes, it was hard to think straight.

  Butterflies invaded my stomach. He enjoyed having me in his bed? The way he said it made me feel like he was trying to tell me something without saying the words.

  You’re important to me, Ellen.

  I pressed a kiss to his neck and he made a pleasured sound in the back of his throat. “In that case, I’ll try to get done early so I can come over.”

  “Rose and Damon will be attending a premiere tonight. So we won’t need to stay quiet this time,” he went on devilishly.

  If last night was his version of quiet, then I trembled to think what he’d be like when he let loose.

  He kissed me then, a promise of what was to come. It was difficult to drag myself away, but I eventually managed. On the short walk home, I wondered about our arrangement. Neither of us had brought it up, and the sex had been completely spontaneous, but was it still part of his services? It didn’t feel that way. It felt private, intimate, but how was I to know if that wasn’t how he was with all his clients? It was his job to make them feel special, after all.

  Confused, tired, and totally spent, I changed into pyjamas as soon as I got to the house. That was the perk of working from home, you didn’t need to get dressed if you didn’t want to. I’d just finished making a sandwich, about to sit down and make another dent in my WIP, when my phone rang. I smiled when I saw Nick’s name on the screen. My brother had made “Havana” by Camila Cabello his signature ringtone because apparently, she was his ideal woman.

  So original.

  “Hi, Nick, how are you?” I answered, lifting the phone to my ear and taking a bite of my sandwich.

  “What are you eating? It sounds delicious.”

  “How can you determine deliciousness based on soun
d? That’s nonsensical.”

  “It’s a skill you acquire working in a café,” he quipped. “Anyway, I just called to see if you’re all set for the Red Wedding at the end of the month.”

  I chuckled. “You think it’ll be that bad?”

  “Shayla’s opted for a red colour scheme for the reception. She wanted to go for something different since this is her second marriage. What did you think I meant?” he replied playfully. I rolled my eyes.

  “Right. Well, I’m ready for it. As ready as I can be.”

  “Are you staying at my place or Dad’s? My sofa bed’s yours if you need it.”

  I sighed. “No, I’ll stay at Dad’s. Your sofa bed is a torture contraption.”

  “I know. Cameron always refuses to stay over because of it. It’ll never be replaced.”

  “Now why didn’t I think of that? He’d been complaining about the mattress in my guest room for ages, so I bought a new one just to satisfy him.”

  “That’s because you, my dear Ellen, are a soft touch. You need to take a leaf out of my book.”

  “I’m sure there’s a devious streak inside of me somewhere,” I replied, pausing before I went on. “Do you think Dad’s happy with her? Shayla, I mean?”

  I heard him blow out a breath. “Yeah, I think he’s happy. As happy as I’ve ever seen him. I know Shayla can come across a little vacuous, but she’s actually good for him, Ellen. You don’t see it because you’re never here, but he smiles all the time now.”

  Something in my heart clenched. It was true that our Dad didn’t smile very often, but I’d always considered it a part of his stoic demeanour. He was a quiet man. And I trusted Nick, so it was a relief to hear him say that Shayla was good for him. I knew we liked to joke around about her, but we weren’t the ones marrying her. If she made Dad happy, then that was the main thing.

  “Sometimes I can’t believe she’s the first person he’s been with since Mum,” I whispered.

  “Neither of us have ever really been in love, Els. We don’t know what it’s like to lose the love of our lives like Dad did. That leaves a big mark on a person.”

  “I’m twenty-nine and you’re thirty-two. Isn’t it sad that we’ve never been in love?”

  “Hey! Our day will come, you mark my words. I’m hopeful,” Nick said.

  “And what about Cameron? Is he still being an arsehole to every woman who tries to date him?”

  “Pretty much. Sometimes I think it makes them like him even more.”

  “We need to go to siblings’ therapy or something,” I joked.

  “I’m game if you are.”

  “Oh, man, that would be so awful.”

  Nick chuckled. “Right?”

  I blew out a breath. “Anyway, I better go. I have work to do.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s Sasha’s final adventure going to be? Personally, I’m holding out for her to get stranded on a desert island with a sarcastic Michael Douglas type.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. I miss that trope so much. Someone needs to bring it back.”

  “Yes, you!” Nick enthused, and I laughed. He always had a way of cheering me up. “Okay, go write, and I’ll see you at the Red Wedding.”

  “You really need to stop calling it that.”

  “Nope, it’s stuck in my head now. Sorry.”

  When we hung up, I checked my emails, seeing one from Daniel. I got a case of the nervous flutters when I saw it was about the book signing I’d agreed to. Now that it was so close, I was having cold feet. I looked across the room, where one of my wigs hung over the back of a chair. Somehow, it felt like a step backward to go as Elodie. Julian was pushing me to be myself more and more, and it made me feel good on the inside.

  When you kept secrets, there was this constant brick in the pit of your stomach, made solely of worry and dread. It was liberating to feel that brick start to dissipate. Telling Julian that I wrote books for a living had also felt amazingly freeing. The look of respect and admiration in his eyes, knowing I’d achieved something few managed, was an addictive feeling.

  Maybe being Ellen wasn’t such a scary prospect after all.

  * * *

  Three weeks went by. Julian and I fell into a regular routine of sleepovers. Sometimes he came to my place, other times I went to his. Every day I fell deeper under his spell, but he seemed to be just as enthralled by me. It was still a little hard to get my head around.

  One day he showed up at the bookshop. I was the only one on shift. With a wolfish look, he flicked the sign on the door to ‘closed’, took my hand and led me to the storeroom at the back. He held my gaze and fucked me against the wall until my knees were weak.

  Another day, I decided to take a chance and went over to his place. He answered the door wearing an open shirt, the fly of his jeans undone. For a second, my heart stopped beating, because he looked like he’d just been rolling around in bed with someone. However, when he saw me, his expression smouldered, and he dragged me to his bedroom. There was nobody there.

  “I was just thinking about you,” he confessed.

  “Oh?”

  His gaze darkened. “And touching myself.”

  Something I’d learned about Julian. He had an insatiable sexual appetite, and he’d awakened the same in me. Tiny little things could arouse me; the swish of fabric against my skin, a cool breeze tickling the back of my neck.

  “Do you think of me when you touch yourself, too, Ellen?” he asked in a quiet, sensual voice. He palmed my breast over my top and I ran my hands down his bare abdomen. I loved the ripple of his muscular form, the heat that emanated from him whenever we touched.

  “Yes.” My whispered confession lit a spark in him and he lowered himself between my legs. Going down on me seemed to be a favourite of his. He told me it wasn’t something he often did with clients, and though it reminded me that what we were doing was still a business arrangement, it did make me feel wanted.

  And feeling wanted was a new sensation for me.

  I’d been thinking about returning the favour for a while, but I’d never given a blow job before. I even looked up some tutorials online, but the right moment never came, and I was too nervous, worried I’d do it wrong and either embarrass myself or end up hurting him.

  Julian’s sexual MO seemed to be all about pleasuring the woman, which wasn’t surprising given his job, but it meant I never really got a chance to explore his body like I wanted to.

  The day after I showed up at his place, I found Julian on my doorstep. I’d paid a visit to the corner shop, and when I returned, there he was.

  “Missed you,” he said, sitting on the steps that led to my door.

  I had butterflies thinking of him missing me. He pressed a kiss to my lips and I led him inside.

  “I’ve never asked who painted your walls,” Julian commented as he followed me into the kitchen.

  “Oh, I painted them,” I replied while I put away my purchases.

  His gaze went from the mural by the birdcage to me in disbelief. “Seriously?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve always loved to paint. It’s my second favourite pastime after writing. I actually considered going to art school, but then chose English Literature at Cambridge instead. I’m a passable artist. My real talent was always writing, making up stories.”

  “I’d say you’re a bit more than passable, Ellen,” Julian said, his eyes still on the mural. “You’re a woman of hidden talents. Cambridge, eh?”

  “You should’ve seen me the day I got my acceptance letter. I don’t think I’d ever been happier. It was too bad I didn’t get more involved in college life. I mostly hid in my dorm room and studied, read books.”

  Julian’s expression was playful. He came and placed his hands on my hips, gazing down at me. “If I were there, I would’ve lured you out.”

  “Oh, really. And how might you have done that?”

  His hands moved down over my backside, lightly squeezing before he bent to capture my lips in a hot, languid kiss. He proceeded to show
me exactly how he might’ve lured me out of said dorm room. I couldn’t believe this was my life now, a series of sexy, seductive interludes throughout what used to be a pretty uneventful work week.

  The day before my book signing arrived and I went into a bit of a meltdown. I hadn’t told anyone I was doing it, not my dad or my brothers, not even Julian. If I had told Dad, he’d want to come and support me, but somehow that just felt like more pressure. Besides, I was on a knife’s edge over whether or not to cancel.

  But then I kept thinking about the five hundred people who’d bought tickets. I repeat, five hundred people! I couldn’t let them down. The idea made me feel sick to my stomach. No, I would do this, even if it killed me, but I could definitely use some help.

  Julian’s phone rang for only a few seconds before he answered. “Hello, Ellen.” When he spoke to me, his voice was always so intimate. It sent a tremor through me every time

  “I need you.”

  His tone heated. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “No!” I blurted. “I mean, not like that. Well, yes like that. But right now, I need you for another reason.”

  Now he was all business. “Say no more. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  I was already pacing the hallway by the time Julian knocked on my door. I opened it quickly and he stepped inside. He wore a white T-shirt, black jeans, and a Fedora with a green feather. I loved his quirky dress sense. Ever since I created Elodie, I’d become addicted to online shopping and finding unique pieces. Julian’s style was effortless.

  “I’m here for whatever you need,” he said.

  I inhaled a deep breath, met his gaze, then exhaled. “I have a book signing tomorrow.” Even saying the words made my stomach twist with dread.

  His eyebrows jumped. “You do?”

  I nodded, chewed on my thumbnail and led him into the living room. I sat on the couch and Julian lowered to sit beside me. “A couple of weeks ago, I impulsively went to meet with my agent, Daniel.” A pause as I eyed him. “I went dressed as Elodie.”

  Julian absorbed what I said. “That was brave of you.”