Hating My New Husband (Hate Love Book 3)

by B. B. Hamel

  “Great. Come on, this way.” Avah moves past her and the two girls leave my office. Carly doesn’t even look back in my direction.

  I sigh and reply to a couple emails. I have to actively resist the fact that Carly is doing a photoshoot maybe fifty feet away.

  But of course, I can’t resist that for long.

  Sooner than I expected, I end up climbing to my feet and walking out into the hallway. I practically sneak toward the back room where they’re taking pictures, my heart beating fast, not sure what I’m about to see.

  Someone greets me, but I ignore him. I stop at the door ahead and crack it open, peering into the space.

  It’s where Carly got dressed yesterday morning for our wedding. Today though, it’s filled with lights and several people. I spot Avah right away, and the photographer.

  And Carly, dressed in a short skirt, smiling, an umbrella in her hands.

  I have no clue why she has an umbrella, but I don’t care. I can’t even look at it. I take almost a minute before I can comprehend the scene.

  Carly is posing for pictures, smiling, moving, her hips sashaying, her lips full and perfect. She looks gorgeous, absurdly gorgeous, like they took her inner perfection and made it manifest on the outside.

  No, that’s too poetic. Fuck poetry. In this moment, I’m not feeling poetry.

  I’m feeling lust. I’m feeling fucking. I’m feeling hard as goddamn hell.

  She looks hot. Holy shit, she looks amazing.

  I sneak in the back, unable to help myself. Nobody notices me at first. The photographer instructs Carly and she does as he asks.

  I stand next to Avah. She glances at me, but doesn’t look surprised. “She’s done this before,” she whispers.

  “How can you tell?”

  “She has an ease in front of the camera. Like it’s not weird for her at all.”

  “I can see that.”

  Avah grins at me. “Keep calm, soldier.”

  I glare at her. “I’m calm.”

  “She looks good, I know.”

  “I said, I’m calm.”

  She shrugs, still grinning, and shuts up,

  We go back to watching. Carly doesn’t notice me. She doesn’t seem to notice anyone. They take away the umbrella, they change her top, they put her in pants, they put her in pearls. The whole time she’s focused, intent on the photographer, following his every command.

  And everyone is staring at her. Nobody cares about anything else. It’s all her.

  I can’t tear my eyes away. I watch for a half hour, one picture after the next, over and over again. Carly doesn’t indicate that she notices me, and I don’t want to break the spell.

  “What’s this for anyway?” I ask Avah after a while.

  “Story in People Magazine,” she mumbles.

  “Seriously?”

  She nods. “I’m that good.”

  I snort, but don’t argue. She’s definitely that good.

  More pictures, more poses. Eventually, the photographer steps away and everyone takes a break.

  Finally, Carly notices me. It’s like she’s waking from a dream as she drifts over.

  “What do you think?” she asks, eyes locked on mine.

  “I think you looked good,” I say.

  She smiles, and I’m surprised that it’s genuine. “Thanks.”

  We watch each other carefully. Avah looks between us and sighs.

  “We need you both in ten,” she says, and drifts away.

  I step toward Carly. “Did you do some modeling out in LA?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I’m just not camera shy. Can’t be when you’re trying to be an actress.”

  I nod slowly. “I can get that.” The room’s emptying around us, people drifting out to take their break. We’re left alone, facing each other like enemy combatants.

  She smiles sweetly at me. “I didn’t think you’d care enough to come watch.”

  I smirk in reply. “No way I could resist.”

  “Please. You’re a big, important CEO. You don’t have time for photoshoots.”

  “I have time for you, little wife.” I step toward her. She doesn’t move.

  She’s wearing jeans and a flowing white top, unbuttoned just enough to show off her breasts. I can’t help but stare at her chest, picturing her full breasts in my hands as she rides my hard cock, sweating and moaning, back arching, ready to—

  “What?” she asks. “You’re staring at me.”

  I take a breath. “I can’t help it.”

  “Try harder.”

  “No. I keep thinking about this morning.” I step closer to her. She blinks as I place my thumb on her chin, sliding it up to touch her bottom lip.

  “You should forget about that.”

  “You said you wanted to play along,” I say softly. “You want to play the part. Do you even know what the part is?”

  “Your wife,” she whispers.

  “My obedient wife,” I correct. “My meek, obedient wife.”

  She snorts, shakes my thumb away. “I’m not meek.”

  I step closer, taking her by the hair. She gasps as my lips graze hers on the way to whisper in her ear. “But you do obey.”

  “Davis,” she groans.

  I kiss her, deep and slow. I can’t help myself. Watching her model has my blood up, ringing in my ears, desire rushing through me.

  I love her kiss, her taste, her tongue. It’s a fresh meadow, a spring morning, a mist on the skin during a hike. It’s fresh and good and everything I’ve been missing from my life, all wrapped up into one.

  I pull back and she stares at me, blinking, dazed.

  I tighten my grip on her hair. “I need you to do something for me,” I say softly.

  “What?” she whispers.

  “I want you to prove how much you want to play your part, Carly.”

  “How?”

  “Get down on your knees.”

  She bites her lip. “Right here?”

  I kiss her softly. “Obey me, Carly. Do you want to be rich? Do you want to feel good?”

  She hesitates before sinking to her knees. I’m so fucking hard I can barely stand it.

  I don’t need to tell her what else to do. She reaches forward on her own, unbuckles my belt, tugs down my slacks. She stares up into my eyes, her expression mingled with desire and anger, like before.

  I love it. I fucking love it.

  She pulls down my boxer briefs and I catch a surprised glint in her eyes when she takes my big cock in her hands. I’m thick and long, bigger than I bet she’s ever seen.

  She takes me into her mouth after a few tentative strokes. I let out a soft, satisfied groan.

  “Don’t be shy,” I whisper. “You want to be a good wife, don’t you?”

  She takes me deeper into her mouth. I groan, grab her hair tight.

  “Anyone could walk in right now, Carly,” I tell her as she starts to suck me faster. She can barely fit my big cock in her mouth, but she’s working, her incredible tongue sliding around the tip of my cock. “They’d catch you down on your knees, sucking me off. Is that what you want?”

  She pulls back, stroking me. “No,” she says.

  “Then you’d better suck my cock like you fucking mean it.”

  She glares at me but takes me into her mouth again. This time, she slides me into her throat. She gags once, twice, but I slide deeper, and she takes me entirely.

  I groan. It’s so fucking sexy, watching her deepthroat my cock. She pulls back, sucking me, sliding up and down faster. She trails her lip with her hand, rubbing spit into my shaft.

  I grab her hair, pulling it tight. We don’t have long before someone comes back in, but I’m not holding back.

  I push her down on my cock, pushing into her throat. I fuck her mouth, her pretty face, and she takes it. She works my shaft, sucking me, bobbing back and forth.

  “Fuck, girl, you’re so goddamn sexy. Watching you take those pictures had me fucking hard the whole time,” I whisper to her a
s she works my cock with both hands. “I’ve been rock hard since I married you. Every second I’ve been thinking about you, thinking about fucking your tight pussy, getting you off, making you scream my name.”

  She sucks me faster and I grab her hair. I can’t help myself. I can’t hold back any longer.

  I come in her pretty mouth, thick spurts of it. She doesn’t even miss a beat. She swallows my cum, every single drop. When I finish, she licks my cock clean.

  I groan, buzzing with pleasure. I manage to get my cock back in my pants as she stands.

  “Was that good enough?” she asks me sweetly.

  “That was more than good enough,” I say softly.

  “Good.” She kisses me, opens her mouth, tongue into mine. “Do you like your own taste?” she whispers in my ear before walking away.

  I’m left alone in the room to buckle my belt. I can’t help but laugh.

  God damn. That fucking girl is amazing.

  I’m grinning like a moron for the rest of the day.

  7

  Carly

  The morning after the photoshoot, I’m still buzzing with Davis.

  I’m tired, but I get out of bed and start breakfast. I try to distract myself from thinking of him, of getting on my knees and sucking his cock, how fucking hot it was to swallow his cum, to make him groan, get him off.

  And kissing him, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

  That was just a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself.

  I’m smiling by the time I’m done cooking. I think he liked it when I kissed him after I was done. I think he likes when I get feisty, aggressive, angry.

  He shouldn’t. I’m not acting angry.

  I really am angry.

  But that anger is mixed with confusion. I can’t seem to separate the two out, no matter how hard I try.

  Because I want him. I hate myself for it, but god damn, I want him. Every time he comes near me, I’m dripping wet just thinking about what he could do to my body.

  I want to go wild, lose myself. I want to feel his hands on my skin, make him fuck me until my back arches.

  I want it all. And that big cock…

  Well, maybe not all of it. Maybe not right away, at least.

  I need to work myself up to taking it all.

  I’m smiling as I drink coffee and eat some eggs. He’s still not up when my phone starts ringing.

  An unknown number. I frown, consider ignoring it, but I decide to answer on a whim.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Carly Miller?”

  It’s a man’s voice, terse and serious and deep. “Yes, this is she.”

  “Hello, Ms. Miller. Or should I say, Mrs. King?”

  I laugh softly, although it’s forced. “Right. Mrs. King, I’m not used to that yet.”

  “Of course,” he says softly. “Ma’am, my name is Agent Long of the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement. My office has been buzzing about your recent marriage for a couple days now.”

  My jaw practically hits the floor.

  This is it. I mean, this is what Davis said was going to happen.

  But we didn’t prep. We were supposed to go over his family history and all that, but we didn’t have time. I mean, we’ve only been married for like two days now. I’ve been too busy coming to grips with my situation to actually start studying what I need to know.

  I force myself to laugh again, and I can hear how hollow it sounds. “Really?” I ask. “Why would Immigration care about our marriage?”

  Playing dumb is the oldest trick in the book. It’s probably patently stupid, but whatever. I’m too off guard to come up with something cleverer.

  “You do realize, Mrs. King, that your husband is not a United States citizen?”

  I clear my throat. “Of course, but he’s Canadian. I mean, and he’s been here forever. Why would ICE care about him?”

  There’s a short pause on the other end. I think that’s a reasonable argument to make. I’m playing the silly actress girl from his past, the trophy wife, the bimbo. I have to play a little stupid, at least.

  “Ma’am, our office deals with all immigrants, not just those from our southern border.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Okay, so like, he’s an illegal?”

  “No,” he says. “Not exactly.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  He sighs. I can tell Agent Long is already sick of dealing with the new Mrs. King. I can’t help but smile a little bit at that.

  “Mr. King has been having some issues lately with our office, but marrying you would solve all of those questions. Can you understand why my office would be interested in you?”

  “No,” I say. “I really don’t get it.”

  Another short silence. “We want to speak with you in person,” he says finally. “Will you be available to meet this week?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “We’ll be on our honeymoon.”

  “Of course.” His voice is flat. “When will you be returning?”

  “One week,” I say.

  “I’ll schedule something with you then. Have a wonderful day, Mrs. King.”

  He hangs up the phone abruptly. I stare down the floor for a second, my heart racing.

  I just lied to an Immigration official. I mean, those were pretty small lies, but still.

  I lied for Davis.

  It’s beginning.

  I hurry to the stairs without thinking. I run up then, taking them two at a time. I bypass the second floor, where I’m staying, and head up to the third.

  I stop outside of the door marked OFFICE before pushing inside.

  It looks just like I remember. Bookshelves, desk. Except there’s a door to the right that I missed the first time I was in here, which isn’t surprising. I was too busy staring at Davis to take note of my surroundings.

  I walk over to the door and pull it open, heart racing.

  This is Davis’s room. He explained to me yesterday that I’m not supposed to come up here if I don’t absolutely need to.

  But of course this is a pretty good reason to go seek him out.

  I step inside his bedroom. Up ahead, there’s a large bed, king-size, neatly made with gray covers. There’s a dresser, two nightstands, a lamp. It’s almost bare.

  I turn my head to the right. There’s an open door with some steam spilling out of it.

  And Davis is standing there, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, a towel around his shoulders, his hair damp and tousled.

  I blink for a second as the scene slowly comes into focus.

  Davis, nearly naked.

  His body is lean and muscular. He’s perfectly proportioned, actually. My eyes move down to the boxer briefs, clinging to his body, and the enormous bulge that makes my eyes go even wider.

  Until he clears his throat. “What are you doing in here, Carly?”

  I snap my gaze back up to his face. “Ah, er, sorry, I didn’t realize you were in the shower.”

  He sighs. “I told you not to come in here unless it’s important.”

  “I know, I just, I’m sorry.” I can feel myself blushing. “Do you mind putting something on?”

  “No,” he says. “You barged in here. What do you want?”

  I chew my lip before looking at him. I get myself together. He’s grinning now, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

  “I just got a phone call,” I say.

  He lifts an eyebrow. “So?”

  “From an agent with Immigration and Customs Enforcement.”

  He stares at me without speaking or moving. He’s almost like a statue standing there, mostly naked, mind whirling.

  “What was his name?” he asks me finally.

  “His name?” I blink, not expecting this question.

  “I assume he said his name.”

  “It was Agent Long.”

  He sighs, shaking his head. “So, it’s starting.”

  “What’s starting? Do you know him?”

  Davis takes a deep breath. “Bill Long i
s a friend of Niko’s. He’s the guy that’s going to bring me down if he can.”

  I chew on my lip nervously. “He sounded competent.”

  Davis laughs. “Great. Nice to hear.”

  “I’m just saying. How is this even legal? I mean, that guy using Immigration against you?”

  “He has money and connections. Legality doesn’t apply to a man like him.”

  I clench my jaw. “What do we do?”

  “Don’t worry, little Carly.” He smiles and steps toward me. I watch him as he comes closer, his body still slightly damp, beautiful in the morning light. “I’m rich and connected too. Laws don’t always apply to me, either.”

  “Of course,” I say, shaking my head. “Is this what you people do? You just use people as pawns in your own little games?”

  “Pretty much.” He stops close to me, tips my chin up toward him. “I don’t think you mind. In fact, you can’t keep your eyes off my cock right now. I think you like it.”

  I pull my chin away from him. “Don’t be such a dick,” I say.

  He laughs. “Sometimes you won’t listen to anything else, little Carly.”

  “I listen.”

  “You don’t. You’re too busy thinking about my cock buried between your legs.”

  I glare at him. “Okay, enough. What are we doing about this agent?”

  “It’s time for you to start studying,” he says. “You need to learn everything about me. Every little detail. Think you can handle it?”

  I stare at him, at his amazing body, his intense eyes, and I want to say no. I want to turn around, leave his house, never look back.

  But I don’t quit.

  “I can take it,” I say softly. “Bring it on.”

  His grin is huge and almost terrifying. “Good. Very good. Now get out of my room.”

  I nod once, flip him off, and leave, my head spinning.

  Immigration officials. Naked Davis. I don’t know which one is worse.

  Actually, yes, I do.

  I don’t want to fuck the immigration guy.

  8

  Davis

  “Bring over the materials.”

  That’s all I need to say for Jeremy to show up twenty minutes later with a box literally full of study aids. He drops it down on a table and looks at Carly.