Possessive Fake Husband

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Possessive Fake Husband Page 11

by Hamel, B. B.


  “Okay,” I say. “I hear you.”

  “No, I really mean it. It’s not that I hate them or whatever. It’s just, they ruin everything they touch. They take it over, mold it into their own shape. They’re not bad, they’re just… powerful. Let’s just avoid them entirely.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ve got enough problems as it is.” We reach the parking lot and stomp up through the grass toward the gravel. Larry is standing next to a white sedan, shading his eyes and frowning at us.

  “Careful with that rod,” he barks. “It cost me $1,500.”

  I frown at it. “This thing? Really? Does it magically catch fish?”

  “No,” he says. “It’s a piece of shit. But it’s cool.” He walks down and takes it from me, carrying it almost reverently to his car. He fits it in the back then opens his trunk. I put the tackle box in there and he closes it.

  “Thanks,” he says.

  “Now, let’s talk.” I give him a look. “Back my play. We’ll merge with Bushings and come out stronger than ever.”

  “No,” he says, walking to the driver’s side door.

  “No?” I frown and step after him.

  “No,” he says again. “I’m going to sit this one out and let you figure out where we’re going. I don’t want to make an enemy of Seb.”

  “But you’re fine making an enemy of me?”

  “I guess so.” He opens his door and gets in.

  “Hold on a second. You just made me carry your tackle and rod up here.”

  “And I appreciate the hard work, CEO.” He grins at me. “But next time, you should negotiate.” He starts the engine and backs out of the spot.

  I stand there, staring after him, as the car pulls away. Maggie joins me, and we watch him leave, his car rounding a bend in the road and pulling out of sight.

  “Wow,” she says. “I told you.”

  Rage flares through me. Not rage at her, but rage at this situation. I can’t believe I just stooped to carrying that man’s fishing gear. I stooped to cleaning cars, to hiring some asshole kid. I’ll keep stooping, keep getting used, because all these bastards know they can jerk me around.

  I turn to Maggie, rage boiling through my body. She stares at me, head tilted. “What?” she asks.

  “I’m sick of this shit,” I growl. “Sick of them. Sick of the game.”

  “We’re barely been playing.”

  “And I don’t like getting used.” I step up to her and lace my fingers through her hair. She gasps as I pull her against me, pressing my lips against hers.

  Goddamn, she tastes good. I feel my blood pulsing through my body and can’t help myself. I drag her back to the car, throw the back door open, and push her inside.

  “Josh,” she gasps.

  “No,” I say, getting in. She crawls back against the far window. “I’m sick of not getting what I want. You’ll give me this, my wife, and you’ll be happy about it.”

  She bites her lip as I kiss her again, pinning her down on the seat. “Someone might see,” she gasps as I unbutton her pants. I pull them down, revealing black lacy panties and smooth skin.

  “Good,” I say, my fingers finding her pussy. “Let them see.”

  I kiss her, swallowing her moan whole.

  15

  Maggie

  His fingers slip down the front of my panties and I groan as pleasure blooms all over my body.

  I submit to him. I give myself to him. He slides his fingers deep inside my pussy and I realize I’m soaking wet and aching for his touch. He fucks me with his fingers, sliding them in and out, before he bites my lower lip.

  I groan and he drops down between my legs. He slides my panties off and kisses my inner thighs, his mouth getting closer and closer to my soaking spot. He licks me top to bottom then sucks my clit, his tongue rolling around it, tasting me, driving me wild. I grab his hair and roll my hips, moaning as he sucks me, pleasure rocking through my body.

  “Someone might see,” I moan. “Oh my god. It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

  He moves up and kisses me, fingers sliding around my clit. I can taste myself on his tongue and lips, and I love it, god, I love it. “You really want me to stop?” he growls, fingers deep inside me. I gasp, back arching

  “No,” I moan.

  “Damn right you don’t.” He bites my lip again, grabs my hair, fucks me with his fingers. I moan, rolling my hips, as he slide them back out and teases my clit. He moves back down between my legs and licks me, sucks me, drives me wild.

  The windows start to fog. It’s like some cliché movie, but I can’t seem to make myself care about anything but this man’s mouth between my legs. Another car pulls into the lot, parks several spots away, and an older guy with his wife get out. They walk down to the path without even looking over, and once they’re gone, I let out a sharp, loud moan, and grab Josh’s hair.

  He smirks and moves away, sitting down. He takes off his pants as I shift myself onto my knees. His cock is so thick and hard, absolutely rock solid, as I wrap my lips around him and suck his tip.

  I want to take more, but he’s too thick. He pushes me down, makes me gag, and I suck him faster. He growls his pleasure, grabs my hair, pushes his cock deeper into my mouth. He fucks my lips and I stroke him with one hand as I suck his thick cock.

  He pulls me back, kisses me, then drags me over on top of him. I straddle his thick, throbbing cock and shimmy my hips back.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and arch my back as his tip slides inside me. He grabs my hips hard then spanks my ass. I gasp as he thrusts deeper, filling me to the brim. I lean back, hands on his knees, gasping. He growls and pushes again, thrusting his whole shaft deep into my tight spot, and I groan, wild with pleasure and pain. I lean forward again, kissing him, as I start to move my hips.

  “Every second we’re together, I think about taking you like this,” he pants. “I can’t get enough of it. That’s crazy, right?”

  “No,” I moan. “Not crazy. Stupid. Not crazy.”

  “Fuck,” he grunts. “You feel so good. So tight and wet.” He grabs my hair and pulls it tight. “I love the way you moan. I love the way your back arches when I fill you up. Fuck, I love the way you move your hips. I can’t get enough of this.”

  I ride him faster, panting, moaning. I bite his bottom lip and he slaps my ass hard once, twice. He fucks me, thrusts up inside of me, and I let him have me.

  “Go ahead,” I moan. “Fuck me. Take me. I want it too. I think about it all the time.”

  “Yeah?” he growls. “All the time? You’re down in your room, touching your wet little clit, thinking about my thick cock.”

  “Every night,” I whisper, and it’s true.

  “I’m going to sneak down there tonight,” he says. “Find you fucking yourself with your own fingers. I bet you’ll be moaning my name, you dirty girl. Whispering my name. Because you need this thick cock between your legs. You need it, every inch of it.”

  “Please,” I moan, riding faster. “Oh, god, yes.”

  He fucks me hard, slaps my ass, and it’s heaven, god, yes, it’s heaven. He’s right, I think about his cock, about sucking him hard, taking as much of him into my mouth as I can. I dream about riding him just like this, about the way he grabs my hair, about the way he spanks my ass. He takes me how he wants it and I love it, giving him every inch of my body.

  I keep going, fucking him faster, moaning now, losing my mind. The pleasure rips through both of us and I know I can’t hold back much longer.

  “I love your taste, your tight body,” he growls. “I love the look you give me right before you suck my cock. Fuck, you make me feel good.”

  “Yes,” I gasp. “Oh, god, yes. You make me feel good.” I throw my hair back, the whole car rocking and shaking, as I ride him faster. I let him fuck me hard, I rock my hips, and push down harder and harder. He slaps my ass, he grabs my hair, and fucks me like an animal.

  “Come for me,” he demands. “Come all over my thick shaft.”

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nbsp; “Josh,” I moan and arch my back. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t hold back. He fucks me faster as I come. He grabs my hair, holds me tight, thrusts deep inside of me. I’m taken, I’m controlled. I come all over his thick cock, just the way he likes it.

  “Oh, fuck,” he growls, and I feel him finish inside of me. I feel him fill me to the brim, and I grind my hips down, bliss washing through me.

  We finish together, the car a foggy mess. I laugh, grinning like an idiot, and collapse next to him on the seat. He smiles and leans back, closing his eyes.

  “God, yes,” he says. “I could do that every day. Every hour.”

  “Every minute,” I whisper.

  He laughs. “Every minute,” he agrees.

  I peek up at him and his cock is still half hard. He looks at me and smirks. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Say it.”

  “You’re still… you know.”

  “Hard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you’re interested—”

  “No,” I say quickly, laughing. “God, I’m going to be sore already.”

  “Later then.” He smirks, head tilted. “Come here.”

  I move closer and he puts an arm around me. He holds me tight against him.

  “Think anyone… you know, saw?”

  “Maybe,” he says, shrugging. “ I don’t care. Do you?”

  “Not really. I mean, maybe a little bit.” I bite my lip. “Does it make me weird if the thought kind of excites me?”

  “Nope,” he says. “Makes you normal.”

  “I don’t know if that’s normal.”

  “Lots of people are into lots of different things,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with it. So what if you get turned on thinking about getting caught? I get turned on when you bite your lip. I get turned on when I spank your ass. Or when I think about pinning you down on my bed, arms behind your back, your ass up in the air as I—”

  “Okay!” I say, laughing. “I get the picture.”

  “Anyway.” He grins at me. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I lean my head on his chest. I can hear the steady rhythm of his heart. “I won’t,” I say. “Let’s stay here a little longer, okay?”

  “Okay.” He kisses my hair. “We can stay like this as long as you want.”

  I snuggle closer and hold him tight.

  I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s a mixture of so many things. But I know one thing for sure.

  I feel good with him. When I finally let go, when I ignore all the voices in the back of my head telling me to be careful… I feel good. I can forget my insecurities for a little while.

  Even if this is fake, and things aren’t perfect. And we’re supposed to be enemies. And things aren’t going our way.

  It feels good. I love holding him, kissing him, feeling him between my legs.

  That has to count for something.

  At least it does to me. And that’s all that matters.

  16

  Josh

  After that frustrating afternoon with Larry, I spend a few days at home regrouping over the weekend. Maggie keeps to herself, and for the most part, things go smoothly.

  Even though it’s been setback after setback, I still think things could be worse. I have at least two allies on my side, and although Seb knows what’s happening and is actively moving to block me, at least now it’s happening out in the open. I know he’s doing it so I can take steps to counter him.

  But Sunday evening, things change. I’m up in my study when I hear someone ring the front doorbell. I frown and head down the steps, and as I get to the bottom, my pace slows. Maggie stands in front of the door, staring out at someone, an expression of surprise and fear on her face.

  “Maggie?” I ask.

  She turns to me. “Oh,” she says. “Uh, hi, Josh.”

  I cock my head as she opens the door all the way.

  Sylvia Lofthouse stands there, looking stern and somewhat annoyed.

  “Your wife hasn’t invited me in yet,” she says.

  “Mrs. Lofthouse. Please, come in.” I stare at her for a moment as she steps into my home. She’s wearing a smart skirt suit and her hair looks immaculate. She looks like she belongs on any board in the country. I glance at Maggie, who looks like she might fall over out of fear at any second.

  I know the hold the Lofthouse family has over her. I get it, to an extent. They’re like mythic creatures to her. She sees them once or twice per year, gets a taste of their family’s riches, and then is sent back to her own little mundane life. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have someone like Sylvia Lofthouse in my family.

  “Well, this is nice,” she says as she steps toward my kitchen table. She stops and turns to us. “Very lovely. I like what you’ve done with it.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lofthouse.”

  Her frown deepens. “Call me Sylvia. We may as well be a little less formal.”

  Maggie closes the door and drifts over. “Uh, Aunt Sylvia. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to speak with you both, dear. Come sit.” She gestures at the table. I walk over and clear off a couple magazines and a book before Sylvia sits down at the edge of her chair, her back straight, like she’s about to get up and bolt at any second.

  “What can I do for you?” I ask her. “It’s a nice surprise, you dropping in like this.”

  “Yes,” she says. “It is a nice surprise for you, isn’t it?” She gives me a flat look, like she doesn’t care if she’s putting me out. Maggie sits down and crosses her arms, then uncrosses them, then crosses them again like she can’t decide how to place her body.

  I take a seat and tilt my head. “What can I do for you?” I ask again.

  “As you’re aware, Josh, my family has something of a reputation.”

  “I’ve heard,” I say. “You’re apparently very important.”

  Maggie looks totally aghast at my casual tone but can’t quite seem to make herself use words.

  “Yes, well.” Sylvia gives me a tight smile. “So they tell me. I’m here to talk to you about that reputation, unfortunately.”

  “I’m not sure how that applies to me, Sylvia.”

  “Actually, you should. Since you’re married to my niece here.”

  Maggie finally finds her voice. “I’m sorry, Aunt Sylvia.”

  Sylvia gives her a sharp look. “For what, dear?”

  “For… whatever we did…” She trails off.

  I sigh and shake my head. “Again, I don’t see how it has anything to do with me.”

  “Then let me explain.” She turns her gaze back to me. Poor Maggie is bright red and I can tell she’s kicking herself for being so meek. “You’ve been going around to your board of directions, begging for support for some merger, is that correct?”

  “I wouldn’t call it begging,” I say. “But yes, more or less.”

  “Well. There have been rumors about that. Nasty rumors, and rumors that I’m sure aren’t true. But they come back to me, you see. Since my niece is intimately involved.”

  “It’s business, Sylvia. I’m sure you understand that.”

  “Yes, well. I understand better than you might think.”

  “We’re trying to merge Cork Electric with Bushings Telecom. If we can do that, we stand a chance at competing in the wider marketplace and against the big players. But my board needs some… convincing.”

  “You washed cars,” she says, her tone flat.

  Maggie groans. “I’m sorry, Aunt—”

  I put my hand on her knee and stop her midsentence.

  “We did what we had to do to get a vote. I suspect you’ve done some similar things, Sylvia.”

  “Maybe,” she says, and shrugs. “But I haven’t done them publicly.”

  “I didn’t realize any of this was public.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s gotten out. I believe someone on your board wants to put a stop to you, and so is leaking rumors, most of which are patently absurd, but
some of which seem to be true. The cars rumor being the most popular.”

  “That one’s true,” I say. “We washed cars to win a vote. I’d wash more if I had to.”

  “I’m sure.” She purses her lips. “I like you, Josh. I know you can’t tell, but I do. And I’m happy you married my niece here. I’m sure you’ve realized how smart she is by now.”

  “I have,” I say, glancing at her. “I realized it almost right away.”

  “Good.” She smiles though it doesn’t touch her eyes. “I hoped you were putting her to good use.”

  “If you’ll excuse my bluntness,” I say, taking a breath. “I’m trying to understand why you’re talking about this. I’m not entirely sure how it affects you.”

  She blinks at me. “Perhaps you haven’t realized this quite yet, but by marrying my niece, you married into my family. And everything my family does affects me.”

  I clench my jaw. I know what she’s trying to do here, and I resent it. The idea that she could swoop into my home and tell me what I should and should not do infuriates me, especially after everything I’ve already done to try to get this deal through. For her part, Maggie seems more annoyed than horrified now, but she still can’t seem to figure out how to make her mouth form words.

  “Aunt Sylvia,” she starts, but Sylvia’s eyes fall on her and she stops herself.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I think—” She stops again, seems to gather herself. “I think we’re doing the right thing.” The words come out in a rush. “Josh is trying to save our companies. He’s trying to give us a future. Maybe it doesn’t look good right now, but if the companies merge, it won’t matter anymore.”

  “And if they don’t?” she asks.

  “Then it won’t matter then. We’ll be out of the public world and we’ll have to figure things out on our own.”

  Sylvia sighs. “Yes, darling, so you will. But that doesn’t change the fact that your actions now reflect on me. I’m here to ask you both to put a stop to it.”

  “No,” I say. “I’m sorry, Sylvia. I’d gladly help you in other ways, but I won’t give up on this. Not after we’ve come so far.”

 

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