The Billionaire's Kitten: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  And oh god, that package. The big man was wearing board shorts, the kind that looked like regular shorts, coming to his knee. But even through the loose canvas material, I could see a hard edge, an outline of something massive, a promise so hard, hot and hungry that my pussy began to tingle, responding to the call of this male animal.

  And as if reading my mind, Mr. Jones grinned at me through the window, winking before turning away to talk to someone, nonchalant, like nothing was wrong. I snapped back to reality. Holy shit, he had seen me, I hadn’t been imagining the eye contact, those blue eyes had read my desire, how I’d grown flushed with heat, needing him, my breasts heaving with excitement. My mind went crazy, spinning into various scenarios, imagining being with him, on him, in him, in all sorts of illicit, crazy positions.

  But real life struck. I was a nineteen year old college girl whereas he was an experienced, dominant alpha male. What did I have to offer him? Chris could get any woman he wanted, any female would be happy for a few minutes alone with that hard, male body. So I snapped myself back to reality. What had felt like a slow-mo scene to me, a fantasy sequence complete with flashbacks and flash forwards, had probably been two seconds of real life at most. I’d probably imagined the whole thing, it’d been nothing but a daydream, the fantasies of an inexperienced girl. Because of course, Mr. Jones was already chatting up some middle-aged woman, a skinny blonde chick with an orange tan who looked him up and down hungrily, eyeing him lasciviously while licking her lips, hanging onto his every word, devouring him with her eyes.

  And embarrassed suddenly, I turned away, head down, grabbing my towel before making my way outside, going over to sit over behind a tree, making myself inconspicuous. Mr. Jones had so many options, the world at his fingertips, women dying to meet him. And as for me? I was a teenage girl, a complete nobody, and absolutely, utterly out of my league.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chris

  I’ve known Lindy a long time now. The first time we met was when she was sixteen and she’d come to a company function. Back then she was rail-thin and mousy with huge clunky glasses, and I hadn’t paid much attention except to say hello to my employee’s family.

  Because Lindy’s dad, Jim, works for United Electric. We’re a small construction outfit, doing jobs all over Long Island, both residential and commercial, and Jim was a great guy, talkative, outgoing, like a friendly golden retriever always ready to do your bidding.

  But there had been some anomalies in his performance lately, some things I couldn’t overlook and I’d had to take it up with him.

  “Jim-boy,” I said casually last Friday, leaning back at my desk. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck happened with that last job?”

  Jim got really red, made all the worse by the fact that he had blonde eyebrows. He looked like a red potato with golden whiskers, fresh from the oven. I almost felt sorry for him, the dude was so uncomfortable and fidgety, but I steeled myself. I was the boss and this was business, nothing more.

  And he hemmed and hawed, making excuses.

  “Costs got out of control, the supplies were more expensive than we thought and you know Danny over with Kamco, he was supposed to extend us credit, but he didn’t,” the man babbled nervously.

  But I shook my head slowly, the drivel running through my ears. These were just shady half-truths. Jim was our controller, he was supposed to be on top of the numbers and the problems didn’t stem from supply issues or cost overruns. It was far more serious, a rotten inner core from deep within.

  So ignoring the other man’s chatter, I leaned over my keyboard, tapping a few times and pulled up a spreadsheet before turning the monitor towards my employee.

  “These are the books from last month,” I said casually, “Your job is to keep on top of them, make sure they reflect United Electric’s daily revenues, our spend, our take from each job.”

  The blonde man nodded miserably, so nervous that he was beginning to sweat, and I could see a shiny slick on his forehead. But I was going in for the kill and this was no time to back off.

  “And this,” I said pointing to a column numbers, “is less than it should be.”

  Instead of denying it, Jim just looked down, nodding, twisting his hands in his lap.

  “I know, I know,” he babbled, “I’ll look at it again, I had a feeling something was wrong, the numbers didn’t square up, didn’t meet our estimates …”

  I cut him off.

  “This has nothing to do with estimates or projections,” I drawled smoothly. “The numbers don’t add up because you’ve been taking from the till, helping yourself to some extra, Jim-boy. Why? Why did you do it? Do I not pay you enough?”

  And Jim looked about ready to burst into tears then, his chin quivering, eyes growing moist and bright.

  “No, you pay me great!” he protested with a hiccup to his voice. “Thank you Mr. Jones, thank you for hiring me, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful, it’s just that … that …” he mumbled.

  I sat silently, expectantly. What could possibly justify stealing from your employer? Shit, I should turn this guy into the feds, this was criminal behavior.

  But the tears began to spill then.

  “I’m so sorry,” blubbered Jim, his nose running with trails of slime, his chin drooping with sorrow, “but my daughter’s college tuition is so expensive I needed some extra to get us through this next year, I’ll pay it back, I swear.”

  I steepled my hands thoughtfully, shaking my head. Jim was disgusting, that was no justification for his actions, there was always the option of student loans, parent loans, or fuck, he could have just come to me for a personal loan. But I got it. A lot of people lied to themselves, telling themselves that they’d just “borrow” some money, they’d take it without anyone noticing, the money would be put back before anyone even realized it was gone. But that’s a bunch of jack shit. That money doesn’t ever come back, it’s gone, flown off to its next destination and the unfortunate part in this case, was that I was his boss and I wasn’t exactly the nicest guy out there.

  “You’re fired,” I said abruptly. “HR will have your paperwork.”

  The blonde man blubbered again, dropping to his knees before my desk and clasping his hands.

  “Please Mr. Jones, no,” he begged. “I didn’t take that much, please don’t, my family needs the money, we have a mortgage, my daughter’s in college, please.”

  I shook my head, turning away.

  “Business is business,” I said ruthlessly. “Get out.”

  But Jim was tenacious, I’ll give him that. Instead of getting to his feet and leaving my office, head down and defeated, he anted up and doubled down.

  “Please!” he screamed, throwing himself at my feet. Okay, now this was getting a little dramatic, like out of a movie. Was I going to have to get security to escort him out? “I’ll give you anything you want. Just another month on the job so that I can find a new one. Please!” he wailed.

  And I paused for a moment. In general, I like to cut a cancer out at its source, discard it before it festers and grows into a huge sore. But in this case, Jim had a point. I didn’t have a new controller lined up and it would take time to interview candidates and conduct a thorough search. So if I kept him on for another month, it would help with the transition, help us keep the books up until someone new stepped in. But I’d have to keep an eye on the fucker. Fuck. That fucking sucked. I was here to bring in business for United Electric, it was my job as the boss to drum up new jobs for us, to wine and dine clients so that we landed multi-million dollar contracts. So to spend my nights as a part-time accountant fucking sucked, it was the last thing I wanted to do. But against my better judgment, I agreed.

  “Fine,” I said roughly. “One more month and then you’re out.”

  And the man bobbed his head up and down thanking me.

  “Thank you, thank you Mr. Jones,” he blabbered, eyes welling with tears of relief. “Thank you, this will give me just enough time to find a new job, and
I will pay you back, I will,” he promised.

  I just turned away, disgusted, shaking my head.

  But the pathetic dude had the temerity to keep going.

  “Is there one more thing I can ask of you?” he begged, still on his knees.

  My head snapped to his, eyes blazing. What the fuck, this guy had just admitted to stealing my money, taking my shit, caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and now he wanted something more from me? Fuck, some people are unbelievable.

  But before I could throw him out of my office, the guy’s face crumpled again.

  “Please come to my twentieth anniversary party this weekend,” he mumbled, “It’s Linda’s and my anniversary, and I don’t want her to suspect anything. I want my wife to be happy and you know she’s been sick lately, she’s been looking forward to this party for so long. Please come so that she doesn’t think something’s wrong.”

  And to my own disbelief, I agreed. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was going soft between this talk of sick wives and family events. But the damage was done.

  “Fine,” I ground out, “I’ll be there.”

  And with that, Jim shuffled out the door, bowing and scraping, his blonde head bobbing, the wisps of white hair comical as they waved back and forth.

  “Oh thank you, thank you,” he blubbered. “You won’t regret it Mr. Jones.”

  And after the door shut, I just sighed. Really, what the fuck was wrong with me? Seriously, I had money to make, a business to build, and I’d just been roped into going to a loser party, put on a happy face so that this thief could make his wife happy. Had the world gone crazy?

  But I knew the real reason. I’m no Mr. Nice Guy. I’m a sick fuck, an asshole through and through and Jim-boy here had something I wanted. I hadn’t seen Lindy in a while, not for a year almost and she’d been captivating, young, nubile, shy but exciting. It was summer break now, she’d be at the celebration, right? And when my dick jerked, growing hard and twitching uncontrollably, I knew I’d made the right decision. Because Lindy was worth it, I wanted to set my eyes on the beautiful girl even if I was firing her dad.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lindy

  I lay on the lounger, sunglasses over my eyes, drifting a little. Most of the guests had gone and I was shaded by a huge tree at the edge of the pool which partially blocked the view. With my eyes closed, I reached a hand out to grab my soda, my fingers questing for the drink sightlessly as I fumbled.

  Suddenly the cool bottle was pushed into my hand, firm and solid.

  “Hey!” I gasped, sitting up, startled.

  And oh god, but chills ran up my spine, my body going weak because Mr. Jones stood over me, his big form looming, throwing me in shadow. And he was so close, so near that I literally began to pant. His massive form was only inches away and I had a perfect view of that huge chest, the chiseled six-pack, and that package. Oh god, that package. A small trail of hair ran from his belly button downwards to his waistband, pointing down, down, down to a bulge that made my mouth go dry. I could see the strong arch, the curve underneath the fabric and my cunt started tingling, sparkling deep inside. Oh fuck, I was seriously losing it just being around this guy.

  And Mr. Jones chuckled, following my line of sight.

  “See something you like?” he said smoothly, eyebrow raised.

  I flushed, immediately flicking my eyes away, embarrassed, pulling my towel over my breasts, trying to look cool although my insides were dissolving, warm and melty. God, I was such an amateur, caught head on, staring at his bulge like a virginal girl.

  “Um hey Mr. Jones,” I said with a weak smile. “How are you? Thanks for coming to my parents’ anniversary party,” I added lamely.

  The big man’s eyes became impenetrable for a second but then it passed, and I shook my head, sure it was a mirage.

  “No problem,” he said smoothly, not sitting down, still looming over me. “I wanted to come, it’s been a long time since I saw you, Lindy. You look great.”

  I colored. I hadn’t seen Chris since high school graduation and that was a year ago. Did he remember? I looked completely different now, no longer a skinny beanpole, now outfitted with a woman’s body that was acting extremely womanly at the moment, creaming slightly down below, my nipples tense, tight with excitement.

  “Oh thanks,” I said with bright smile on my face. “How have you been?” Better to pass my gaffe off as nothing, pretend nothing had happened.

  And big man chuckled low in his throat, taking a swig of his cocktail.

  “Good, I’ve been good,” he rumbled, before fixing me with an electric look, those blue eyes piercing, seeing through my towel like x-ray vision. Oh god, my nips grew harder under his gaze and I cursed my body. Why now? Why, why, why?

  But Chris just shot me another grin.

  “You’ve changed a lot,” he remarked.

  And this time, I was determined to shield my body’s reaction. I pulled my towel even tighter, wrapping it around me like I was a mummy in a blanket. But instead of hiding things, it had the opposite effect. It was so tight on my breasts that my nips stuck out like missiles, hard and pointy, poking out so that the big man couldn’t help but see, his eyebrows rising with amusement.

  “Miss me?” he growled low in his throat, shifting his stance so that the rest of the party was blocked from our intimate exchange, his big body shielding me from other’s gaze. “Your body certainly does, those luscious tits are sending me a message.”

  And I colored again, my hands still. Oh my god, was this really happening? Was Mr. Jones coming onto me, talking about my body, my creamy tits, his dick only inches from my face? Wasn’t this wrong? He was in his forties, more than twenty years older than me, plus he was my dad’s boss.

  But that was the problem exactly. I didn’t want to offend the big man because he was my dad’s boss, and besides, I kinda liked his eyes on me, the way his gaze slid warmly over my curves, eating me up, looking approvingly at my wide hips, my big ass. So I managed to smile and looked at him brightly.

  “My boobs are sending you a message?” I murmured. “I didn’t realize,” I cooed, pulling the towel up, hoping to cover more of myself, like a drape over my torso. Except this effing towel wasn’t a beach towel, it was your standard bath towel and it rose up so that my crotch was bare, my thick thighs on display, the pale skin joining at the top in a beautiful vee.

  And Mr. Jones just chuckled again, not even bothering to hide his amusement, his eyes fixed on my vag, his dick lengthening, growing so hard, so big that it strained against his waistband before popping a bit over the fabric, the pink fleshy helmet gleaming wetly in the low light.

  “Little girl,” he said, “I think you forgot something.”

  And I looked down and gasped, horrified. Because the swimsuit wasn’t doing its job at all. The leg holes had pulled so high, so tight, so that the nylon was basically a string between my pussy lips, bisecting the plump, swollen flesh.

  “Oh god!” I squealed, trying with hasty hands to adjust the towel again. But I just made things worse. I was so clumsy, so awkward that somehow the towel got tangled up over my head and crept up even more, baring more of my exquisite cunt, the lips wet and glistening.

  “Fuuuck,” growled Mr. Jones hoarsely, holding out a hand to stop my thrashing. “Still little girl, still.”

  And like a skittish mare sensing its owner, I calmed under his reassuring touch, the way his big hand was so calm, so dominant.

  “I gotcha,” he murmured again, slowly pulling the towel way entirely, disentangling it from my body, the soft terrycloth dropping away to reveal my lush curves in their full glory. “Fuck Lindy,” he breathed again. “How did you get so beautiful?”

  And I blushed once more, this time a full body blush, the pink spreading from my chest all the way down to my cunt, every part of me slightly rosy from hairline to toes. And I had nowhere to hide from his gaze, there was nowhere to go although truth be told, I didn’t want to hide anymore, his eyes felt so war
m on me, so delicious, leaving tingles wherever they landed.

  “Mis-Mister Jones,” I stuttered softly. “What’s going on? I-I need my towel back.”

  He flicked an eyebrow at me.

  “But maybe I want to see more,” he drawled.

  And I shivered inside, my nips jutting out like rocks now, one boob literally popping out from the top of my swimsuit. Fuck, I was barely clothed, lying back on the lounger with one huge tit out for his gaze, the other straining to break free, my pussy shielded only by a string.

  “Mr. Jones,” I whispered, my eyes begging as I met his. “Please.”

  But the big man ignored me, instead shifting his board shorts a bit so that about three inches of dick stuck out over the waistband and oh god, but he was leaking from the tip, the deep purple head swollen so big and glossy that I could see a vein beating along the bottom, painfully throbbing. Immediately my lips parted slightly, my mouth opened as if in anticipation of a deep suck, knowing where that man meat belonged.

  And Mr. Jones just chuckled deep in his throat then, his eyes on fire now, the blue so hot that it practically threw flames where it landed. He shifted his big body once more to make sure we couldn’t be seen. I guess from over by the food table, it probably looked like we were having a normal conversation, Mr. Jones’s broad back blocking any visual of me other than my legs sticking out. But still, this was so wrong and fucked up and dangerous … and I loved it. My parents were only twenty feet away chatting with friends, with no idea what their baby girl was doing with the boss man.

  And gulping, my heart beating a million miles a minute, I tried again, eyes wide.

  “Mr. Jones,” I whispered softly. “I need my towel. I can’t get up from this lounger without that towel, give it back.”

  The big man chuckled, his fingers tightening into a fist around the soft terry.

  “That’s what you get for wearing that fuck-me swimsuit,” he growled, his eyes running up and down my curves. I colored. This was a modest one-piece, I’d just grown out of it and had no opportunity to shop. But before I could interrupt, the big man continued. “Tell you what, little girl,” he rumbled smoothly. “I’ll give this back to you if you do something for me first.”