by Nikki Chase
He brushes his lips against mine and swipes his tongue between my lips. Every part of my body pulsates, yearning for more. I open for him and release a sigh against his lips. Putting my hand on his face, I run my fingers over his jaw, smooth from a fresh shave.
The kiss grows more and more intense, making me dizzy and breathless. Ethan puts one hand on my back and leans me back, laying me down on the couch.
Even though neither one of us says it, we both know what’s coming next. Our bodies tell of our desires without words.
Ethan hovers over me, our legs tangled as our tongues continue to twist together. The muscles in my pussy clench around air, and I yearn to be filled up.
I don’t understand these new sensations, but I know I need Ethan more than air right now. I feel more alive than I ever have. Whatever he’s doing, I never want it to stop.
Ethan slips his hand under my back, and I arch my body to give him access. He pulls the zipper down my back, while I reach up and tug at his shirt.
He pulls back just enough from the kiss to quickly yank it off, showing off his sculpted chest and abs. He has a beautiful body. Whoever said that women don’t get aroused by visual stimulation has never seen someone like Ethan.
Under the sunlight that’s pouring in through the big glass panels, he looks majestic. Powerful. And all I want is for him to unleash all that power on me.
“Take off your dress,” Ethan says in a hoarse voice.
“Only if you take off your jeans,” I respond.
“Deal.”
Again, I arch my back and pull my dress off.
I may have been happy enough to let him lavish his attentions on me so far, but it’s time for me to explore his body as well.
I want to see all of him, like he has seen all of me. I want to make him sigh and gasp, like he has made me. I want to make him come—or at least try. I’ve never done this before, after all, and I have no idea how to do anything.
“Your panties. Off. Now,” Ethan demands, resorting to short sentences, now that lust has overtaken him. I can see the primal desire in his eyes, and it only makes me want to be taken by him.
His voice reminds me of those days in the office, when I used to follow his orders without even asking, and even back then, it used to send chills throughout my body. Now I know what those were about. I’ve always wanted this man, even when I thought he was a heartless monster.
I obey him, slipping my panties down my legs as he throws his pants down on the floor. I can’t help but stare at Ethan’s cock. It looks big, hard, and frightening.
Of course I’ve seen cocks before in pictures and videos—this is 2017 and you can find anything on the Internet. But seeing one in real life is completely different, especially when I know it’s about to go inside me,.
“You can touch it if you want,” Ethan says when he notices my curiosity.
I gingerly raise my finger to his cock. As soon as I graze the velvety skin, it jumps. I hear Ethan gasp, and my gaze flicks toward his face. His jaw is slack, his mouth open.
I haven’t even done anything, but he’s already reacting. I don’t know what I’m doing, but he doesn’t seem to mind; he just wants my hand on him. I know now why he always wears an intense expression when he makes me come; this is a trip.
I get bolder and touch him again, with my whole hand this time, wrapping my palm around his cock like I’ve seen people do online. It seems I’m doing something right because Ethan groans, a sound that gets right under my skin.
The thick shaft of his cock is hard, but the head is kind of spongy. A drop of clear liquid has gathered at the tip, and I’m overcome by the urge to taste him, just like he has tasted me. I brush the tip of my index finger over it and stick it into my mouth. It's thick, salty and musky.
“That's the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ethan says, his voice low and dangerous. He’s been staring at me, I realize, while I’ve been preoccupied with his cock.
I give him a smile and reach back down to grab him again, but he takes my wrist and pins it against the couch, over the top of my head.
“Stop, or you’ll make me come,” he says.
“Maybe that's what I want to do.”
“Oh, you’ll get to do that, don't worry. But if I’m going to come, I’ll going to come inside you.” He gathers my other wrist and holds them both with one hand, while his other hand travels south to find my folds.
I’m still slick from the orgasm he gave me at the rooftop, and from the raw sexual energy crackling between us right now. Running his fingers over my pussy, he stares into my eyes and says, “You're ready for me, aren't you, kitten?”
I bite my lower lip and nod.
“This might hurt, but you don't care anymore, do you?”
I softly shake my head while looking up at him in surrender.
“That's what I thought.” Ethan puts the tip of his cock right at my opening and locks his gaze on me, watching me as he takes my virginity.
He pushes inside. It just feels strange at first, and then it gets painful as his thickness stretches me. I wince.
“You okay?” He stops and waits until I’ve collected my breath and nodded. Then, he slides a tiny bit deeper.
It hurts and I can't help but wince again, even though I want this really badly.
The next time Ethan stops, he gets up. I worry he might be getting fed up and want to end this. I'm just about to beg him to continue. But instead of leaving, he just gets on his knees and pulls me up until my thighs are over his.
He puts his finger on my clit, reminding my body of its arousal. I moan. It feels exquisite, this mixture of pleasure and pain. Gradually, the pleasure trumps the pain, and it doesn't bother me as much anymore.
With his cock still halfway inside me, Ethan rubs my clit with circular motions. As my arousal builds up, my muscles grab onto his cock and I feel myself grow wet.
“Come for me, kitten,” Ethan commands.
Like a good pet obeying her master, my body starts to shake on its own, and soon I can only throw my head back as an orgasm tears through me. Through the fog of pleasure, I’m vaguely aware of Ethan moving inside me. When I open my eyes to look at him again, he’s staring where our bodies are joined together.
“You just creamed all over my cock,” he says. “I love how wet you get.” Smirking, he adds, “I’m all the way inside you now.”
“I know,” I say. I can feel his balls pressing against my ass. He feels strange and foreign, but I have to admit, it feels good when my muscles have something to grab onto as I come.
Ethan slides his cock out, then he pushes himself back inside me. With the added lubrication, it doesn't feel painful anymore. It's actually starting to feel good.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he says as he leans down to hover over me, slowly sliding in and out of me to a steady rhythm.
I moan when he kisses my neck and pinches my nipples. All the pleasurable sensations—on my neck, my nipples, all over my skin—shoot straight to my pussy, which is still sensitive from the orgasm. My muscles grab on tight to the thick cock inside me.
Ethan growls in my ear as he picks up his pace, although I can feel him holding himself back. Maybe he's afraid he might hurt me. I feel precious, being treated with such care by a man who doesn't waste his affections on most people.
I put my hand on his ass and pull him close, urging him on. I feel his muscles tense and relax, as he pumps into me harder and faster, taking my invitation. His fingers seek out my clit and effortlessly find it. Rubbing my pleasure button, he continues to fuck me. When I come for the third time at his hands today, he swells bigger inside me.
“You’re mine,” he says as he stares right into my eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Say it,” he groans.
“I’m yours,” I gasp.
I feel his cock twitch inside me as we both explode together. I can only hold on, my fingers digging into his ass cheeks, when he grinds into me and stills.
“Say it a
gain. Say that you're mine.” Ethan gazes at me with tenderness and possessiveness. He wants to own me, and I want to belong to him.
“I’m all yours.” I have no idea if he’s my husband or my lover. Somehow, we’ve skipped the boyfriend-girlfriend phase and jumped straight into this strange, intense live-in relationship.
But as Ethan kisses my temple softly and strokes my hair, I know I’m right where I belong.
“I’m yours, too,” he says.
Ethan
I smile to myself as the clients leave my office.
This has been a really good day, and a lot of it has to do with my fake wife.
I woke up this morning smelling her hair, which put me in a good mood instantly. The big meeting has gone well, ending in a deal that will bring in hundreds of millions of dollars over the next few years.
Now, I can’t wait to go home to see Megan again.
Ah, fuck it. I’ve worked hard enough for long enough. Maybe it’s time to slow down and smell the roses.
Now that the big meeting is done, I can leave the office and be confident that no disaster will happen for the rest of the day.
Maybe I should go home. If I hurry, I might be able to squeeze in some time for a little sexy fun with Megan before we pick Penny up from school.
My cock stirs in my pants as I imagine myself buried balls deep inside her. In my mind, she’s lying spread-eagled underneath me, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth gaping open as I fuck her hard. Her face grows red and she fights for air as her muscles grab onto my cock like they’re never letting go…
Ah, fuck it. I’m going home.
I get up and grab my car key. I should leave before my imagination goes so wild, the whole office can see me walking around with an obvious hard-on.
Just as I take my first steps toward the door, I hear knocking.
I check the watch on my wrist. Strange. I’m not supposed to have any appointment at this time.
One of the executive assistants in the office has agreed to help out with my schedule. But without a dedicated assistant, some things have been slipping through the cracks. And I’ve been too busy with Megan to mind the little imperfections.
“Come in,” I say as I lean on the side of my desk, hoping this is nothing important so I can still go home early.
When Eliza enters the room, she’s wearing a solemn expression that immediately tells me something big has happened. Something bad.
“You may want to sit down for this,” Eliza says as she marches across the office with purpose. She’s holding something in her hand. A magazine.
“What hateful bullshit did Ashley spew this time?” I ask, drawing a deep breath.
“That’s not the wife you should be concerned with today.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Did they print something bad about Megan?
This is what I’ve been afraid of. The last thing I want is to drag her into the media storm I’m currently trapped in. But given the situation, there’s no way for her to stay out of it.
Eliza says nothing. Instead, she sits on the guest chair at my desk and hands me the magazine in her hand.
As I study the cover, my blood runs cold.
What the fuck?
Megan
“Thank you.” I smile at the barista as I grab the two cups of iced beverages: a caramel macchiato for me and a black coffee for Ethan.
This is nostalgic. I used to get these same drinks when I was his personal assistant. Now that I’m his fake-wife-slash-real-live-in-girlfriend, it feels similar but different.
I actually look forward to giving him the drink now. I used to dread going into his office because I was so consumed by my blind hatred.
I imagine Ethan’s face when he takes it with his hand, and the thought makes me smile instead of scowl.
When I decided to become his fake wife, I never would've imagined that it would lead me to this place. I never thought I’d ever fall for him.
Well, maybe that's a little too soon to say. This is all too new for me to say I’m falling for him. But nobody has ever made me feel like this before, and I can’t help but crave more closeness with the source of all these wonderful, new feelings.
Before Ethan, I thought I was frigid or even asexual. Most of my friends had already paired off and had sex, and I hadn't. I also didn't want to. It didn't appeal to me. I was too afraid of men because I thought they were all evil users.
But Ethan's different. And that's why I trust him enough to let my sexual side come out to play.
Of course, it helps that he happens to have the body that belongs on the cover of Men’s Fitness magazine, along with the face and the dress sense of a GQ cover model.
But I’ve always known that; I’m not blind. I just refused to see him for what he is. I used to hold on tight to my preconceived ideas about him.
“Hello, Mrs. Hunter,” Paul says as I enter the apartment lobby.
“Hi, Paul.” I feel weird being addressed so formally, but I am here to be Ethan’s pretend-wife, so it's probably good to let him call me that. Besides, “Mrs. Hunter” has a nice ring to it.
“Special night? Mr. Hunter is home early, and now you’ve bought him some drinks.”
“Maybe.” I give Paul a polite smile as I walk past his counter, remembering Ethan's words about not trusting the guy completely.
I’m glad to hear he's home, though. What a nice surprise. I was planning to hide the drinks in the fridge until he comes home, but now I can just give him his iced coffee while it's fresh.
I walk faster, eager to see Ethan. I enter the elevator with a drink in each hand, sticking a digit out for the fingerprint scanner so it will take me to the correct floor.
It’s funny how I get used to the little things. Yesterday, when we were at the office, it seemed strange to me that someone had to press a button for it to start moving. If I’m not careful, soon I’m going to end up just like those stuck-up celebrities I hate so much.
“Ethan?” I shout as soon as the elevator stops and the door opens. I make my way toward the living room, my heels click-clacking against the white marble floor, which looks golden as it’s bathed by the afternoon sun. I say again, “Ethan? Paul told me you’re already home.”
Strange. There’s no response. This place is big for an apartment, but it’s still small enough for my voice to be heard throughout. Maybe he’s in the shower?
As the living room comes into view, the corners of my lips pull up on their own.
I can see Ethan’s back. He’s sitting on the couch with his back to me. His dark hair traps the golden sunlight, making it appear light brown. He’s looking down, probably doing some work on his tablet or phone. He’s always so focused when he’s working.
““There you are,” I say. “Is Penny home, too?”
I step onto the rug, which muffles my steps. I’m glad I got dressed, even if I was only planning to buy coffee. I like looking pretty for Ethan.
“No, I told the driver to pick her up,” Ethan says in a serious voice.
“Oh, I could’ve done that if you couldn’t make it.” As I get closer, I raise the transparent plastic cup that contains Ethan’s black coffee, the dark liquid swishing inside with my every step.
“That wouldn’t do. Because I got home early to talk to you.” Ethan still doesn’t turn around to look at me.
Is this some kind of a game? Does he have a surprise for me? Is this some kind of a role play scenario, something I’ve only ever heard of in all of my twenty-one years?
When I finally see Ethan’s face, it becomes clear that something is wrong. Terribly wrong.
His face is in the shadows, but it’s easy to make out the lowered dark eyebrows, the pinched bridge of his nose, and the horizontal lines across his forehead.
He’s worried, or angry, or concentrating hard on some complex problem. Or all three.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I lean down to place both cold cups on the coffee table. The wet condensation from th
e outside of those cups has stuck to my fingers, so I wipe it off on my skinny jeans before I take a seat.
“I don’t know. You should be the one doing the explaining here.” Ethan stares into the distance, even as he speaks to me. This feels impersonal, like how he used to treat me, back when we were just boss and assistant.
My chest pangs with pain at the lack of acknowledgement. He had been so sweet to me up until this morning. He kissed the back of my neck before getting ready for work.
Like the elevator fingerprint scanner, sweet Ethan hadn’t taken long for me to get used to. I was starting to forget what he used to be like, and now the old, distant Ethan is back.
“What’s going on?” My heart pounds in my chest as my mind races, trying to come up with all the things that could’ve gone wrong.
Did I forget to make up his bed this morning?
No, that can’t be it. He wouldn’t come home early just because of that. Besides, even if I forgot to make the bed, how could he have found out before getting home?
No, it has to be something more serious than that. Way more serious.
Did I leave any trace when I downloaded his files off his gadgets?
Was I recorded on any security cameras?
Did Ethan somehow find out about my mission to bring him down with an exposé? If so, that would be ironic, because I just ended it last night with a quick email to Michelle.
I stare at Ethan for some indication of what’s really happening, but he continues to ignore me. When he finally looks at me, he simply gestures at the stack of thick photography books on the coffee table.
At the top of the stack is a magazine that I haven’t noticed.
It’s thin.
It’s pink and yellow.
The headlines are written in big letters meant to grab attention at check-out lines across the country.
Oh my god. It’s the latest edition of The Goss.
And my face is on the cover, a little off to the side. There’s a small photo of me, Ethan, and Penny.
This can’t be good.
With a trembling hand, I lean forward and take the magazine. It won’t stop shaking, so I put it on my lap. But my legs can’t stay still either.
