Page 87 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

I reach for my wallet, grateful for the packet I keep there out of long-standing habit. It’s been months since I’ve been with anyone. Not since her. Not since that night. And the morning after.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, needing to hear her say it.

“Positive.” Her eyes hold mine, pupils blown wide with desire. “Now fuck me on this desk before I die of frustration.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I unzip her dress enough to expose her breasts, groaning at the sight of her nipples already hard and waiting for my mouth. When I take one between my lips, her back arches and she clutches my head to her chest.

“God, Gideon,” she moans.

I reach under the short hem of her dress. Herunderwear is delicate black lace that tears easily in my hands. She gasps at the sound of ripping fabric, her eyes darkening further.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” I promise, slipping my fingers between her legs to find her already wet and ready. “So fucking wet for me.”

“Just for the show,” she pants, but the way she rocks against my hand tells another story.

I slide one finger inside her, then two, watching her face as she bites her lip to keep from crying out. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind me linger at the back of my mind. Anyone in the building across from us with the right angle could see us. The thought shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.

“Let them see,” I tell her, rubbing circles with my thumb as I pump my fingers. “Let them see how beautiful you are when you come.”

Her eyes fly open, locked on mine as her inner walls begin to pulse around my fingers. “Gideon, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, good girl,” I encourage her, the words falling from my lips without thought. “Come for me.”

Her orgasm washes over her, and I swallow her cry with another kiss. She’s still trembling when I roll on the condom and position myself at her entrance.

“I want you so bad,” she whispers against my mouth, and something in my chest cracks open at the simple admission.

I push inside her, intending to go slow, to savor every inch of her. But the moment I feel her heat surrounding me, my control shatters completely. I thrust hard and fast, burying myself to the hilt in one desperate movement.

“Fuck,” I groan, my forehead dropping to her shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Please don’t stop.”

I lift my head to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, her eyes glazed with pleasure and scotch. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life.

“Move,” she pleads, wrapping her legs around my waist.

I begin to thrust, faster than I intended, as her nails involuntarily dig into my shoulders. The edge of the desk will leave bruises on her thighs, but neither of us cares. Papers cascade to the floor. A pen holder crashes next to them. The obscene sounds of our bodies joining fill the office, punctuated by her moans and my grunts.

“Fuck, Ava,” I groan as she tightens around me. “So good. So fucking perfect.”

She’s close again. I can feel it in the way she’s clenching around me, in the pitch of her cries. I slide my hand between us to where we’re joined, finding that bundle of nerves with my thumb.

“That’s it,” I encourage her. “Come on my cock. Be a good girl and come for me again.”

Her second orgasm hits harder than the first, her entire body convulsing as she cries out my name. The sight of her coming undone, the feel of her pulsing around me, it’s too much. I follow her over the edge, burying myself deep inside her as release crashes through me.

I slump, and for several moments, we stay just like that, panting and still joined. Reality slowly seeps back in. What we just did. Where we did it. The rules we broke.

I carefully withdraw, zip up my pants, clasp the belt. I dispose of the condom in the bathroomattached to my office. When I return, Ava has zipped up and straightened her dress, and is attempting to gather the scattered papers. Her hands are shaking slightly.

“Leave those,” I tell her. “I’ll get them later.”

She nods, not quite meeting my eyes. The air between us feels different. Complicated.

“So,” she says finally, “that should convince anyone watching that we’re a real couple.”

And there it is. The out we both need to take. The way to pretend this was just part of our arrangement rather than what it really was.

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