Page 35 of My Possessive Billionaire: Our Fake Marriage

“I remember that part. Tell me the rest of it. Now.”

I smacked his hand off my shoulder and leaned in, my tone growing more guttural.

“I was worried when I took this job that I would lose myself in the role. That I would get confused about what was real, and what was just the job. Only now I think you’re the one who’s got it all twisted up.”

“You watch your mouth,” he said.

“Oh, watch my mouth, is that how it is?” I sneered. “I guess you can order me to wear tape over my mouth, or a nice ball gag. Then you won’t have to hear me speak, even though you just ordered me to tell you something.”

His expression darkened.

“You think this is a game?”

“Let me answer your question with a question, dear husband. Why?”

He waited, but I didn’t say anything else. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Why? Why what?”

“Why do you care so fucking much about me wearing the stupid fake wedding ring for our stupid fake relationship? Huh? Why do you care so much?”

My voice had taken on an almost pleading quality. I realized thatI was showing my hand, letting on that maybe I felt more than I should have, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Why do you care so much about your fake wife forgetting to wear her fake wedding ring? It’s all bullshit, anyway. All of it, it’s not real. It’s just not real…”

Evan’s eyes burned like fire. He took me by the shoulders and then pulled me into a fierce kiss. My eyes widened, and I stiffened against him, but then I lost myself in the moment. I gave in to the feelings I’d been fighting all night long, letting myself sin, and forget it was all fake for a few blissful seconds.

Evan pulled away from me after stealing my breath and stared at me with eyes shining with purpose.

“Is that real enough for you?”

Chapter 13

Evan

The taste of her kiss set me afire from the inside out. Passion blazed in my chest like a rising phoenix. I’d been aching to get my hands all over her all night long at the movie premiere. Now I was getting my wish.

Apparently, my kiss was plenty real for her. I went in for seconds and she met me halfway, eager to give me some passion of her own. I kept thinking, God, why couldn’t it be like this between the two of us all the time? Why did we have to run either ice cold or fiery hot?

Then I put my hand on the nape of her neck, and she moaned into my mouth, and I forgot all about anything resembling a complaint. I forgot all about the fact it was a fake marriage, too. All I could think, feel, breathe, and experience was Amanda. She was my whole world, my whole universe at that moment.

I pulled her into my lap. She gasped, drawing her knees up and sitting on me more or less side saddle. I saw she was considering a protest. I smothered her with another kiss, and her reluctance melted away like the morning dew under a midday sun.

My hand slid down to cup her glorious bottom. I’d been staring at her sweet ass all night, well evidenced in the sheath dress. I loved the way it hugged her body like a second skin. Her generous curves were on display.

I never understood those guys who wanted to cover up theirwomen. That was like owning a Maserati or a Shelby Cobra and keeping it under a tarp all the time when you drove it. I liked showing her off to the world. I felt a swell of pride at the idea that everyone thought I’d tamed the tigress on my arm.

She moaned when I kissed her neck. I ravished her tender flesh with kisses and luscious licks. I loved everything about her, even the taste of her sweat. It reminded me of when I’d drank in the ambrosia of her pussy on that perfect, fiery night on the airplane.

Amanda clutched at me, her fingers pressing furrows into the sleeves of my tailored blazer. I stroked my hand down the back of her silken mane and then kissed my way back up to her lips. Amanda gasped, then splayed her thighs, hiking up her skirt until she sat fully on my lap facing me. I kissed her deep, thoroughly taking what was mine.

She ground her hips against me, rubbing the growing bulge in my trousers with her panty-clad pussy. I could feel the heat emanating through them, even through three layers of fabric. Her soft breasts pressed into my chest, reminding me of her femininity and making me feel that much more like a man.

The limo rolled to a stop. We were home. Parked right outside the manor. My driver knew better than to come and open the door, however. He just kept the engine running and took a conveniently timed cigarette break.

Amanda and I showed no signs of stopping. I devoured her, ravishing her neck and lips with kisses. I loved the feel of her skin against my own. She ran her fingers through my hair, letting out soft cries and deep, guttural moans.

“Amanda,” I cried. “Amanda, my darling.”

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