The Billionaire's Kitten: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  I nodded. Because of course our manager was the proverbial government lifer who had nothing better to do than push papers around while lording it over us, his subordinates. But he was the boss, so what could we do? I sighed, resigned.

  “Listen,” continued Tanya in a hushed voice. “Let’s play hooky today. Let’s leave at four and tell stupid Saunders it’s because we’re checking out those new signs up in the Bronx. That way we’ll have an excuse to leave early, and you know what? I live up in the Bronx so we’ll head there afterwards and drink wine. Wine, baby, wine, everything’s good with wine.”

  And I giggled softly as Tanya boogied down in my cube, shaking her ass while doing a dance of joy. Normally I would have taken her up on the offer because checking up on our signs was part of the job, and it was only too easy to swing by my friend’s place afterwards for a sip of the good stuff. But I actually had plans tonight.

  “Um, thanks Tan, but it’s a no go, I have some business to get to,” I said, biting my lip and going slightly red.

  Tanya didn’t even hear me, she was still getting down, twerking against the gray cube wall, bouncing her butt against the soft fabric. I just rolled my eyes again. Seriously, my co-worker really wanted the cube to come crashing down with the way she was bumping and grinding.

  “Tan,” I said louder, raising my voice. “I can’t tonight.”

  This time she heard.

  “Why not?” she asked, making a pouty face, her lips pulled in a frown, standing up straight. “Red, red wine not good enough? You want white?”

  And I laughed while shaking my head again.

  “No, I have plans already, you know, stuff that I committed to ahead of time,” I said pointedly.

  The blonde pouted again, but changed her tune on the turn of a dime.

  “Oh my god, you mean divorce stuff?” she whispered, her eyes suddenly wide. “Sorry, honey, didn’t realize. Sure no problem, tell Gary to fuck himself, he deserves it,” she added.

  And I tried to keep my expression neutral. In fact, it wasn’t divorce stuff I had on my plate, but it was easier to let my co-worker think it was, distract her from the real story. So I just nodded soberly.

  “Yeah, I have some papers to sign and all that,” I mumbled, dropping my head as if devastated. “It’s really tough.”

  And Tanya was immediately repentant.

  “Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she cooed, putting an arm around me, her hand warm and reassuring. “Like I said, tell him to fuck himself. Tell Gary DeGroot that Tanya Smead says ‘fuck you.’”

  And I had to laugh again.

  “Okay, I will. How about the Bronx tomorrow?” I asked to appease her. “We should check out our handiwork at City College, who knows where they hung the signs this time?” And it was true, last time our stuff was posted in a utility closet where absolutely no one could see it. Literally, in a dark closet with the door shut where it’d be no good to anyone. God, sometimes I just didn’t know how the world continued to function, what City government was coming to.

  And Tanya nodded.

  “Absolutely hon, I’m saving that wine for you. Kay, gotta get this ass back to work before Saunders swings by and beats me. Toodle-oo!” she sang with a wave and a wink, and just like that, my co-worker disappeared into the maze of cubes, swallowed up by the labyrinth.

  I sighed before swinging back around to stare at my monitor again, my head rushing with my thoughts. Because there was no divorce stuff to take care of, no papers to sign, no loose threads to tie up. That shit was done, and for the better because Gary was an afterthought now, a nobody from my past. Instead, my thoughts were consumed with Tucker, his big body, his laugh, the way his blue eyes took me in, my every curve, my every eager, hungry breath. The delivery man was curious about me, had asked me a lot of questions about myself and shamefully, I’d asked almost none about him, it’d been a one-sided conversation.

  But it was easy enough to remedy. After all, I just had to place another order with NYC Concierge and my delivery man would show up like magic. My body heated up just thinking about it, my mouth going dry, my cunt beginning to moisten. Oh god, oh god. I was supposed to be working, supposed to be looking over papers, plotting strategy, doing business things, but all I could think about was touching, savoring, tasting my delivery man’s package … all over again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Laurie

  I flipped open my laptop at home and clicked to NYC Concierge’s page. Hmmm, what to get today? Unconsciously, I licked my lips, my body heating up a thousand degrees, my mind already whirling with anticipation of the fun times ahead.

  Because I knew how concierge services worked. You put in an order and then a messenger gathers your purchases and makes the delivery. But NYC Concierge had gone one better and part of their white glove “elite” service was that you could request a particular messenger for your delivery. In this case, of course I was looking for Tucker.

  I clicked over to the “About Us” portion of the web page and I scrolled down the list of names. My eyes lit up upon the word “TUCKER” in all caps, and when I clicked on the link, sure enough, a photo of the big man popped up, his face half-turned away, partially hidden in shadow.

  But it was definitely my illicit lover. I could tell by the strong profile, the straight nose and mobile lips, the square jaw apparent even in the slightly blurry image. Oh yeah, that was my man and I clicked on his picture with relish.

  Bingo! The site said that Tucker was “currently available” and all I had to do was place an order. I pursed my lips, thinking. What did I need? Well, everything come to think of it. I was still sitting in an unpacked apartment, piles of stuff heaped around me, half the boxes still taped shut. I’d dug around to find some work clothes so that I could show up for my job, but pretty much everything else was still boxed up.

  So my fingers skimmed over the keys, impatiently strumming when suddenly inspiration struck. I needed laundry detergent. I hadn’t been able to locate any despite pawing through mounds of stuff and had given up finally, spending the evening on my soiled sheets. Or more accurately, the sheets that Tucker and I had covered with our love stains. The cotton was saturated with our sex smells and I’d rolled around in them naked, breathing in the scent of the big man, his woodsy, masculine musk, pretending that he was there with me still. Okay, you got me, I did more than that. I pressed my nose to his semen stain, the circle of dried cum and inhaled deeply while frigging my cunt, pretending it was Tucker’s fingers touching my plush lips. And I came all over again, my snatch creaming wetly as I shrieked, legs scissoring wildly on the bed, losing it as my pussy pulsed and spasmed, driving me to the wildest heights. Yeah, Tucker did that to me. I’d come all over again just from smelling his semen because I’m a dirty, nasty girl.

  But I only wanted more now. So I punched in the name of a laundry detergent, just a regular brand that you could pick up at the local bodega and pressed “Checkout.” My computer whirred and then the words “Delivery Accepted” popped up, with a countdown ticker. Oh my god! Tucker was going to be here in fifteen minutes, that was barely enough time to get ready.

  I hurried out of my work clothes, pulling off the shapeless blouse and struggling out of the tweed wool skirt. Yeah, I’ve put on some weight recently with the divorce and ballooned a little, all my clothes are a little tight now. Unfortunately, a new wardrobe wasn’t in the cards, that would cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars, and I didn’t have any money to spare. Fuck. I was going to have to watch my diet to make sure I had stuff to wear. Hate that.

  But my cheeks flushed because Tucker had liked my curves, devoured them like candy yesterday. Oh yeah, he hadn’t minded that there were handfuls of flesh spilling everywhere, my thighs dimpled and sweet, my ass huge and bountiful. And you know what? There was still one item of clothing that still fit me perfectly. Shoes. Oh yeah, even with the added fifteen pounds or so, my sexy heels were still perfect, elongating my legs, the four inch stilettos making me feel powerful and des
irable.

  So I slipped on a pair of red peep-toe pumps, real fuck-me shoes if you saw them, patent leather and sky high. Pursing my lips, I stared at the mountains of boxes before me again, half-heartedly sifting through a pile of boring work clothes, stained jeans and flannels, and an armful of raggedy lingerie. I didn’t want to wear it, truth be told. A lot of the clothes were uninspiring, all of it musty-smelling from being packed away, most of it worse for the wear, grimy and wrinkled.

  But oh wait, there was something that would be perfect. I peered into a monster sized box, plunging my arm into the darkness and managed to snag a hip-length faux fur jacket in black. Yep, no wrinkles on this and the fur was really soft, even a little oily, just like the real thing. There’s no way I’d ever buy real fur even if I could afford it, but I’d come upon this gem at a consignment shop and forked over the two hundred dollars because it was sassy and hugged my curves just so.

  I modeled it in the floor length mirror propped against the wall. Oh yeah, you could see my little cunt poking out just below the hem, my smooth shaved lips already glistening with desire, my meaty thighs thick and strong. And with the red peep-toes, all I needed now was a slick of red lipstick and I was ready to go. Pulling out a tube of Revlon’s Vampiress, I outlined my lips, pressing them together to saturate the color, then slowly licked them for a glossy, glistening effect. Perfect. I was a seductress waiting for my man, a vixen in heat.

  But as I turned this way and that in the mirror, waves of doubt began welling up inside. What was I doing? Was I, Laurie Holmes, a regular office worker, really doing this? Was I really sexing it up, wearing nothing but a fur coat and high heels to seduce my delivery man? Suddenly I felt unsure of myself, really insecure. Maybe my curves were too much, maybe I was coming on too strong, too eager, and it would drive Tucker away, turn him off in disgust

  But then I steadied myself. Down girl, I calmed myself, that’s not it. It’s the divorce that’s doing this to you, making your emotions rush around, making you play games in your head. Get a grip, you’ll be fine.

  Besides, it was too late for second thoughts because a knock rang out suddenly.

  “Ms. Holmes,” came the deep voice. “Delivery.”

  And taking a deep breath, steadying my nerves, I made my way to the door, pressing my eye against the peephole. Oh god, he was here and my heart began racing immediately. Tall, broad, imposing, Tucker had his cap pulled low but that did nothing to disguise his strong jaw and mobile mouth. And oh god, where that mouth had been yesterday made me shiver and tremble all over again, my cunt moistening immediately, gushing with sweet juices. Suddenly my doubts were forgotten, my body on high just from a glimpse of the man through the fisheye peephole.

  So I unlocked the door, peering out from behind the wooden frame and shot him a sweet smile.

  “Hi big guy,” I said shyly. “Thanks so much. Do you have my package?”

  His eyebrows raised at my contorted position, only my head and neck visible, craning like a goose.

  “Sure,” he growled, gesturing to the box on the floor. But he held an electronic tracker as well. “But you’ll have to sign for it.”

  This was like a re-play of yesterday. Except this time I was prepared. Glancing quickly around the landing to make sure no one was there, no sounds of approaching footsteps or distant voices, I made my move.

  Sashaying out from behind the door, I posed provocatively before opening the coat, my boobies bare, my cunt wet, clad only in my high heels.

  “Hey big boy,” I purred. “Just wait a minute while I get a pen. You wanna help me look for one?”

  And the big man was stock still for a moment, his eyes ravenous, eating me up. Of course there was no need for a pen at all, nothing so mundane. Technology was advanced that all I had to do was take the electronic stylo and sign away, the magnetic field would pick up my scrawl. So it was a lame excuse at best, straight out of a corny porn flick, but it worked. Tucker was looking at me like a starving man come upon a feast in the desert, his eyes trailing my every curve, his dick punching out with assurance. And all my previous insecurities, my “oh gods” and “what ifs” flew out of my head like mist dissipating in the bright sunshine. This was a man who wanted me, who saw nothing but perfection judging from the way his eyes were on fire, the way his big body went rock hard. And in two long strides, Tucker was in my apartment, door slamming shut behind him, package forgotten on the ground as he dropped to his knees in front of me.

  “Fuck, you little slut,” he breathed hotly, the warm air gusting against my cunt. “Fuck, you’re one horny little girl, aren’t you?”

  And I jiggled in front of him, my boobies almost bouncing off his head, my cream gushing wetly.

  “I am for you, big boy,” I cooed. And daringly, I reached a hand down and slipped it between my legs, pulling my labia apart to show him my clit, my wetly creaming hole.

  “Taste it, big man?” I breathed, squatting a little so his mouth was exactly level with my cunt, canting my hips forward so that he could gaze up my channel, the hot pink, glistening flesh such a contrast to my pale white labia.

  And like magic, it worked. Tucker was on it in a second, hard, hot and hungry because this was no gentle massage with his lips and tongue. He went straight for my clit, seizing the big nub between his lips and shaking his head, pulling it this way and that like a dog in a frenzy.

  “Oh fuuuck!” I cried, my eyes dropping closed, my pussy gushing like a fire hose. “Oh!”

  And Tucker chuckled deep in his chest.

  “You’re such a fucking slut, your clit’s as big as my thumb, look at this thing,” he growled, popping it out if his mouth and flicking it with his fingers. It was true, my clit was so aroused and stiff that it waved in the air, the warm gusts of his breath only making it stand up even more, become more engorged.

  “I know big boy,” I panted. “I’m a cunt slut … just for you.”

  And Tucker was on me again. He rubbed the bottom side of my clit with the pad of his thumb, massaging that sensitive nub before trailing his fingers around the stiffness, the circular motion driving me mad.

  “Ahhh!” I shrieked. “Ahhh ahhh!”

  The big man just chuckled slyly.

  “Scream all you want, little girl, I love hearing it,” he ground out before lowering his mouth to my pussy. And without hesitating, he licked me from bottom to top, the flat of his tongue covering as much acreage as possible, flicking my clit with a flourish at the end.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” he growled before going at it again.

  And this time he held me open, lapping up the side of my right labia before doing the same to the other, tasting my walls, filling himself with my honey, even smacking his lips at my sweet taste.

  “Fuck, cunt juice is amazing,” he growled, nose and lips still buried in my pussy. “And you’ve got so much of it.” Because he was covered in my cream now, the bottom half of his face slickly wet, sticky and shiny from my fluids but the big man dove in for more, nuzzling me, drinking up the ambrosia.

  And I screamed, electric sensations shooting out from my pussy, my weight propped up against the wall because my legs were so weak and trembly.

  “Please Tucker, please,” I gasped. “I’m gonna gollapse, oh god!”

  He chuckled deeply.

  “Hold on, little girl, give me one sec.”

  And with that, he inserted his thumb into my cunt, burying it deep before fanning his fingers across the front of my pussy, stroking my clit, running them through my wet folds, making me feel so good.

  And I really did lose it then, my legs giving way, knees buckling as his fingers did wonders. Oh fuck, that thick thumb felt so good in me, blunt and short, rubbing me on the inside as his other fingers teased the rest of my pussy. Where the fuck did he learn these tricks? I’ve been fingered a couples times, but jamming a thumb in my hole while fluttering his palm across my nub? That took some creativity and a massively dirty mind, and I fucking loved it, my legs turning to jelly
as I screamed, my pussy clamping down on him, enjoying the wiggling, jiggling digit inside.

  And lucky for me, the big man swung me up into his arms then, striding to the bedroom in two seconds flat. He threw me onto the queen-size, my curvy form bouncing up and down as he looked his fill.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rasped harshly, his eyes trailing my body, hot on my tits as he sucked his thumb into his mouth. “And you taste good too,” he ground out, lapping at the cream on his digit.

  But he had a surprise for me this time.

  “Your turn,” he commanded, popping his thumb out and thrusting the finger into my mouth, the thick digit wetly slick with a mix of my cum and his saliva. And oh god, but my eyes rolled back in my head as I sucked. Oh god, tasting my own pussy cream was so nasty, so dirty and yet so delicious that I was fast losing control, my body quivering and shaking in anticipation of what was next.

  And Tucker didn’t disappoint.

  “You know there’s tit for tat,” he said silkily, eyes gleaming, watching as I sucked his thumb.

  My eyelids flickered a bit.

  “Mmm?” was all I managed, still savoring my pussy juice.

  “Yesterday you sucked me off while sticking a finger in my butt,” he continued smoothly, his voice neutral even though dark slashes had appeared across his cheeks, his chest and abs tight, a huge tent at his groin. “And I’m gonna do the same to you today.”

  My eyes flew open. He was going to what? Put something up my butt while eating my pussy? And the big man read my thoughts, his eyes going dark as he nodded.

  “Yeah, why do you think I put my thumb in your cunt first?” he asked with a nasty grin. “I wanted to lube it up because it’s going in your ass next.”

  And my little anal pucker clenched involuntarily then, the pleats going tight in anticipation. Oh fuck, oh fuck, no one had ever touched me in back before, this man was going to be my first.