Insta-Hubby (A Billionaire Fake Relationship Romance)

by Lauren Milson

  “Gabe,” she moans, biting down on her lip, her eyes finding mine through the dimness of the room, illuminated by the white sky outside. “That feels…”

  “I am not going to fuck you, sweetheart. Not yet. I want to make you wait. I want to make you crave me. Because once I mark you, you are mine. Do you understand?”

  Her long eyelashes flutter beneath her furrowed brow, her plump, perfect lips parted. I lean down and capture her lip with my teeth tenderly, testing her. Because I know she wants a bit of that. She wants a firm hand and someone to guide her. It’s what she’s looking for.

  I saw it in her glance. The way she threw her look over to me in that shithole where she was working. She’s strong but tired.

  She wants to give herself over to something. To something else.

  To someone else.

  To me.

  Avery

  My belly floods with butterflies, their wings tickling my insides, and they flutter and bounce around inside me. Making my mind spin. Making my brain warp. Making me want him more and more with each touch.

  With each motion. With each time he shifts and looks down at me and presses his hardness against me.

  I can’t help myself.

  Because he isn’t making love to me. He isn’t even fucking me. He is just making me want more and more and more.

  Every ridge on his cock teases my aching clit, and each time he presses harder against me, I want him to go on forever, but I want him to stop so he can press himself inside me.

  “I’ve never seen a girl as beautiful as you,” Gabe growls into my ear, tickling the skin on the back of my neck with his sweet words.

  He reaches down between us, finding my swollen clit, and sweeps his fingers against it, and he’s right - it’s his.

  I feel crazy. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I must not be thinking straight.

  I’m not thinking at all. But I know this is right.

  It feels right. It feels good for once.

  I feel my body tense up as he massages my breast under my dress, moving beneath my bra, finding a hard nipple. He moves his hand away and quickly sweeps it around to my front and bunches up my dress and pulls it off of me, over my head.

  He takes me in with his deep, swimming eyes. It’s like he’s looking at me, seeing so deep inside me. I could never have expected something this good to happen to me, especially after all I’ve been through. I thought it would be off the table for me.

  And then this man comes out of nowhere to claim me. To save me.

  “You are so sweet, Avery,” he whispers, looping his arm around my back. “Now I want you to cum. Let your sweet juices cover my cock so you can lick it all clean.”

  My legs shake when he says his dirty words, so easy but so filthy and yet so right. It’s natural for him to talk like this to me, and his words trigger something inside my brain, making my body respond, react. I grind myself against him instinctively, my clit meeting his body as he presses a finger into my mouth.

  “My girl,” he groans. My clit erupts against his body, and I feel my insides shudder as I explode against his cock.

  He pulls away from me as I sit up and wantonly wrap my lips around it, taking him into my mouth as he erupts.

  I know what is going to happen, but I’m almost surprised at how much I like it. I can taste myself on him, a wholly new sensation but it makes my mind spin. I look up into his eyes as he cums, his perfect jaw set clenched against his teeth, his dark eyes looking down at my body like he needs more from me.

  “Baby, yes, drink down every drop,” he whispers as I take him with my lips. “You see what you do to me? I didn’t even have to be inside you.”

  His hands come to the sides of my face and he tenderly pushes my hair away from my face. I’m sweating, and my hair has become messy and wild.

  Gabe pulls me on top of him gently, sliding his fingers through mine as I shift and nestle myself into his chest. I feel so vulnerable, so alive, and still a little bit dangerous but not afraid. And as I look out the window at the snow swirling through the inky black night, I’m content and feel like I can see for miles.

  Gabe

  “There may be men here who are interested in you. They may come onto you. All you have to do is tell them you’re already taken.”

  I trail my fingers along her collarbone and her breath shutters inside her chest. Deep inside.

  She is exquisite, wearing a black silk gown I selected for her from my private shopper at Bergdorf’s. And she wears no jewelry. She is bare and pure. Ready for me to mark again and again, to make mine over and over. All she needs to wear on her lips is a smile and all she needs to see is the inky blackness when she closes her eyes and sparks explode within the darkness as I bury myself deep inside her.

  “Okay,” she affirms. Her bright eyes glitter in the darkness in the back of my limo. “I’m ready.”

  “All you have to do inside is speak up for yourself. But I won’t leave you. I won’t let you be alone for long, if at all.”

  Her eyes glide away from the window in the back of my limo, through the seductive darkness, until she catches my glance. My eyes drag down her perfect alabaster face, to the supple lips that I want to suck on all night, and down further to her breasts, heaving and pillowy and bound inside the corset dress she is wearing.

  My cock strains inside my pants and burns with fire for her lips, her body.

  “Why did you want me to come with you tonight?” she asks, breathing huskily into the air between us. “Why didn’t you already have a date?”

  Her expression is the same as it was when she was back in that shithole I found her in. When I first saw the lips and the hair. The first time I imagined wrapping those long brown locks around my fist, tug on them firmly - just enough to make her sweet pussy wet and craving me. The first time I knew she was mine.

  “I wasn’t able to find the girl I wanted.”

  She shudders again when I give my response. Her gaze drifts back out the window. It’s ironic, almost, because we are back in her neighborhood. Maybe it turns out she and I are not all that different.

  But there are guards where I am taking her now. Security. It’s secret. It’s underground unless you know where to look, what rocks to check under. The key is hidden somewhere you can’t access.

  But unlike the place I plucked her from, Club Skin has a business card. Our name is etched in the minds of the city’s most powerful, the most notorious. The men with peculiar tastes, the men who want something extra.

  That’s what the holiday party is about. It’s a celebration at the end of the year to mark a new beginning. New opportunities. New skin.

  But she isn’t working. God dammit, she won’t use her body ever again. Not in that way. Even if she never had to sell herself, she won’t have to worry about that again.

  She will never have to think it ever again.

  “The girl you wanted?”

  “Yes,” I say. I put my hands around her waist and slide her to me. She yelps softly as we pass over a rocky patch of cobblestone. We’re somewhere near West Broadway, but I’ve lost track of the streets. All I can see is her.

  “I was looking for you,” I say.

  She is wordless again. She doesn’t have to say anything. Her eyes drag down my body, across my broad shoulders, and down to my lap. My pants are tented obscenely; I can feel it without having to look down. Her eyes widen and they come back up to meet mine.

  “See something you like?” I say to the young brunette.

  She nods softly and her fingers come to my belt. They’re confident but clumsy, too.

  “No,” I say, pushing her hands away and sweetly taking them in mine. “We have to go to the party.”

  “What should I expect once we’re inside?” she asks inquisitively.

  “I don’t want to spoil your innocent eyes,” I say, brushing a lock of hair away from her forehead, “but you might see some things you haven’t seen before. But you are here as my girl; remember tha
t. You don’t have to look at anything if you don’t want to. The things you may see happen behind closed doors. So don’t open the doors if you don’t want to see what’s inside.”

  Don’t open the doors if you don’t want to see inside.

  I turn over the notion in my mind. I want to see how far she will go. But she won’t be corrupted by anyone - but me.

  She won’t be spoiled by anyone but me. Bathed in pleasure. Begging for me. Begging for more.

  “No one touches you but me, baby. No one.”

  Avery

  The colors from the street swirl around us, and I feel myself becoming lightheaded at the softest of touches.

  I feel something else, too, and I don’t know what it is. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Looking down, I catch a glimpse of my cleavage. I’ve always tried to cover myself up. When I interviewed at the massage parlor, my prospective boss said I would be perfect for the position. He’d looked at my breasts. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. It felt lewd. I covered myself up from then on. It wasn’t the first time I’d been looked at like that, but it was the first time I’d been looked like that on a job interview.

  It didn’t feel good. I felt like something was being taken from me, and nothing was being given to me in return.

  It felt uneven. Uneasy. Unbalanced.

  But now it’s different.

  Now it feels new.

  I feel fresh.

  It feels balanced.

  My eyes trail along the line at the top of the dress, pressing my breasts up, making my body feel hot beneath the sumptuous silk. Gabe looks at me, but he isn’t taking anything away from me. I feel like he is giving me something.

  But it’s not enough.

  When he looks into my eyes, it burns.

  I feel my pussy clench up, needy and hungry and wanting more. Wanting him.

  His cock against my folds was so exquisite. Painful, almost. Almost. I was desperate for him to sink himself into me, slice me in two, break me and put me back together.

  He gives and he takes. I feel in balance. Grounded.

  Darkness and power swirl around us. The inky black night is punctuated with the bright colors of the lights and neon and incandescence of the shops on the street. We pull over to the curb and the limo stops. I peer out the window. It’s stopped snowing. We are in front of a nondescript, plain building. It looks like an old factory. The first floor is dotted with large schoolhouse windows. The building is about six or seven stories high. The front door is large and wooden, old - it looks hundreds of years old, maybe. And there are men outside guarding the door.

  Gabe gets out of the car and punctuates the cold night with the slamming of the door behind him, coming around to the other side to help me out.

  In my stiletto sandals, the tips of my toes meet the fresh, powdery snow on the sidewalk.

  “Stop, Avery,” Gabe says. He bends down and puts one arm easily around my back and the other under my knees, lifting me easily. I’m weightless in his arms.

  I never thought I’d like this. I never thought I’d feel good giving myself over like this.

  But I do. I can’t help it.

  But what if he drops me?

  What if he doesn’t? What if I allow myself to fall into his arms over and over, allow him to kiss me and touch me?

  Let him fuck me?

  Let him see all of me, the way I’ve never let anyone see before?

  Gabe. He disarms me. He strips me. He makes me feel like I am wearing a new skin.

  And I barely even know him.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispers, taking me in his arms. His broad chest anchors me. His features are perfection. His voice is like honey. And his scent makes me feel crazy. My pussy clenches, needy and hungry as he pushes a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

  He deftly carries me across the sidewalk, just a few steps, but it feels like a serene, full lifetime passes in those few seconds. All time stands still.

  And I feel weightless as he puts me down.

  He says nothing, but on the inside I feel that he wants me. Just from his expression. Just from the way that he says nothing.

  I’ve never been wanted like this. Not in this way. Not in the way that makes me feel the way I feel right now.

  I feel that I’ve been infected with some brilliant and special elixir. It’s intoxicating. Like a drug. I feel in control and out of control, in equal measure, all at once.

  And the door opens before us, and Gabe loops his arm through mine.

  We pass the guards. These are the kinds of men they should have employed at the massage parlor. I wince when I think about how naive I was.

  We should have had this kind of security at the whore house.

  A wave of shame sweeps through me, but just as quickly, my breath is taken away.

  We step through the doors and enter a small vestibule. The air smells like fresh cotton, cinnamon and patchouli oil. Lush green curtains cover the perimeter of the space. I don’t know if there are walls behind the curtains, or something else. A vast room, a small room, an expanse of people dancing and drinking, throwing their heads back and laughing at a joke. Maybe a beautiful woman with sun-kissed tanned skin and a man with bulging muscles and a ten-inch...you know…

  Maybe it’s all behind those curtains. But I don’t look.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  “We’re here. This is Club Skin, sweetheart.”

  All the shame I felt before is melting away like an iceberg that’s floated into a jungle. It’s not where it belongs, but it’s changing - adapting.

  Melting.

  A woman hands us two masks. Black masks. Simple. Not like the one I wore for Halloween two years ago. I bought that one at the 99 cent store. No, this one feels like pure, heavy satin atop some steel-hard material. It’s soft and hard at the same time, like a stone at its core but covered with softness. Lusciousness.

  “Come,” Gabe commands, guiding me. He slips his hands around my waist and walks behind me, his presence so imposing but so damn protective.

  A large man in a black tuxedo awaits us just a few feet ahead. He begins to pull the green curtain aside, but nods to us first.

  “You must wear your mask inside,” Gabe says to me gently, taking it from my hands. “It is for your own protection. For you to remain anonymous. It’s a condition of entry. You can only take off the mask in one of the private rooms. It is to ensure that everyone present is consenting to their identity being known. But even then, our membership rules dictate that no one may reveal the identity of those they see inside.”

  He places the mask gently against my eyes. It covers my top portion of my face, ending at the tip of my nose. He ties the velvet panels around the back of my head and fastens the mask into place.

  “Why is it called that?” I ask. I stand up a bit straighter, say my words a bit more solidly.

  “Skin? You’ll see.”

  Gabe

  I got into this business because I didn’t know where else to turn.

  I was lost.

  I inherited money from my father when he passed.

  I didn’t even know him.

  I read recently in the Financial Times that seventy percent of people who come into a sudden windfall lose all of their money within two years.

  It doesn’t matter if it is a small inheritance from a long-unseen uncle, or if they were an early investor into a business that is sold for a record price, or if the person is a lottery winner.

  A big or small amount, that sudden windfall will be gone.

  I promised my mother before she passed away that wouldn’t happen.

  I invested the money wisely. I got involved in the Club before it was a magnet for the wealthy and powerful. Before I was buddies with them. Back when I was an associate in the District Attorney’s office. Ironically, I have more influence now than I had back then.

  Guiding Avery by the hand, we enter the main ballroom. It’s decked out in silver and gold for the holiday; ivy and fresh
eucalyptus tied with silver ribbons adorn the columns along the perimeter of the large space. A bar on the far right of the room is lit up with red and gold uplighting, and to the left, tucked into the corner, is a twelve-foot Christmas tree adorned with white lights and gold and silver oversized ornaments. A band on the stage across from the entrance of the room plays slow jazz music, the notes weaving through the air, setting the stage for a seductive night should our guests choose.

  “There’s only one place I want to take you,” I say to Avery.

  Adrenaline cruises through my body when she looks up at me. She is perfection, and she is here with me. Her lips draw up into a fuckable heart shape, and I die a little inside because she isn’t in my bed. But I want to show her a nice time first.

  First.

  Before I take her.

  “I want to dance with you,” I say.

  As promised, she quickly learns why the club has its namesake. The waitresses come through the space, weaving through the sparse crowd, wearing nothing but black lingerie. Their skin is on display. The male patrons and female patrons alike drink them in with their eyes. And they only look. There is no touching unless in one of the private rooms. Where the masks come off and all of it is on display.

  Avery’s eyes glide through the room, taking in the sights, the curves on each of the waitresses. They are all beautiful, but none compare to Avery.

  I put my hand out and she puts hers into mine elegantly, gracefully, as her eyes trail up to mine. Her lips are perfectly agape, the shape drawn up into a gorgeous cupid’s bow.

  And my heart slams into my ribs.

  “Look around,” I say. The music runs through the room, the darkness punctuated with laughter and the start, just the start, the bubbling up of a night of revelry. Of whatever is desired. “Do you like what you see?”

  “Yes,” she breathes.

  “That’s the only word I want to hear from you. Do you understand me? I only want to hear yes. I want you to want what I will give you. What is rightfully yours.”