Page 39 of Gilded Fake

“God damn,” I groan. “I love coming inside you.”

“I love it too,” she says with a little smile, straightening and tugging down her skirt.

“Can I do it every day for the rest of my life?” I ask, drawing her into my arms.

“God, yes,” she says with a breathy little laugh.

The elevator dings, and I barely have time to step back, shove myself into my pants, and zip before we’re staring out into hallway, where Royal and Harper stand waiting for the elevator.

“Jesus,” Royal says, glowering and shaking his head. “Get a fucking room.”

“You’re so crass,” Gloria says, rolling her eyes, looking vaguely annoyed, as if nothing at all just happened, as if she’s not standing there with cum dripping down her bare thighs, with her panties still in my pocket.

“Oh, I see,” Harper says slowly, nodding as realization dawns in her eyes. “That scene in the ballroom makes a lot more sense now.”

“Nothing happened,” I say. “Gloria’s a lady.”

“You have cum all over your face,” Royal says flatly, stepping in to jab the button for the penthouse suite. While he gets out his card to unlock the exclusive top floor of the Hockington Hotel with access to the rooftop pool and party area, I turn to the mirror.

The entire bottom half of my face is indeed glistening with the evidence of Gloria’s pleasure. “Damn,” I say, grinning at myself. “Now that’s hot.”

“Wipe it off,” Gloria hisses as the door whisks open.

“Not a fucking chance,” I say, laughing as I step out. “They can wash it off before they bury me.”

Royal strolls into the suite like he owns the place, tossing his wallet and key card on the island with a half dozen bottles of liquor and mixers. He heads for the open French doors, beyond which at least a dozen people are crowded into one spot on the narrow balcony that runs along the length of the building.

“Seriously,” Gloria says, grabbing my arm. “Go wash your face. That’s me all over you.”

“And you’re going to stay all over me,” I say, grinning and pulling her against me. “I’m wearing this as a badge of honor for the rest of my life if I have any say in the matter.”

“That’s gross.”

“Then I’m gross,” I say, releasing her. “Come on, let’s go smoke.”

I amble out onto the balcony, where I’m surprised to see a dozen more people further down, outside another door that leads to one of the suite’s bedrooms. The party’s already started up here.

How long were we in that elevator?

We step into the crowd, and someone shoves a joint at me. I take one look off the balcony and my stomach swims, and I close my eyes and inhale a long drag before passing it to Lo with shaking fingers. She has the grace to ignore my momentary terror, though she glowers at me while she takes a puff. Duke throws one arm around me and reaches for the joint with the other.

“Who smells like pussy?” he asks.

I shrug and pull out my cigarettes. “It’s prom. Everyone gets lucky.”

“Somebody started early,” he says, sniffing the air.

“Maybe it’s you.”

“Oh damn,” he says, rubbing a finger under his nose and sniffing it. “Maybe it is.”

“I thought you’d be down there soaking up the attention all night,” I say, handing Lo a cigarette and tucking one into the corner of my mouth.

“Jealous?” Duke asks with a wide grin, looking delighted at the idea.

“No,” I say. “I don’t care about any of that shit.”

“You sure?” he asks, reaching up to pluck the crown off my head and set it on his. “You’re finally back on the throne, the official king. You gonna knock my teeth out for touching your crown? Or your queen downstairs?”

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