35. Dani
DANI
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
Ugh, and the evening was going so nicely, then I blew it.
“It was a fake evening with a fake boyfriend.”
It was stupid, all that talk of marriage.
“You’re so dumb,” I hiss at myself as I try to peel the super-sticky Costco tape off my chest. I have not drunk enough for it not to hurt when I rip out the little hairs on my boobs.
“God, I hope those just sprouted this morning, because if those were there when Graham was sucking on them the other night… ugh, this is embarrassing.”
Last night was embarrassing. My life is embarrassing.
Who am I kidding? Even if Graham had seen me with my boobs all taped up like a weirdo, he’d have seen that I take too much work to even be a passable billionaire’s girlfriend.
Sure, it’s one thing to have sex with me. According to Gran, men will fuck anything even remotely hole-shaped.
But he doesn’t want a future with me.
The worst of it was that until I almost flashed the tape at him, it felt so real. It was everything I always dreamed of as a girl—the coming home from a fun, fancy evening, the handsome husband, him being sweet and doting all evening but still thinking I’m desirable.
It felt like love. Like the kind of love you get in books or movies. The kind of love that happens to other people. For one magical evening, it felt like, wow, maybe it could happen to me too.
I pick the last of the tape off in the shower. I’m showering in Graham’s room because I’m not ready for the death of the dream.
My parents are right. This is the closest I’ll ever get to happily ever after, and it’s just a story I plagiarized off of .
I slip his shirt on and button the top two buttons.
I debate about just lounging on his bed until he comes back in, but then I decide I do want some of those leftovers.
If he just wants me for sex, then that’s fine. Sex is good; sex is nice. If I only have five weeks with him, then I’m going to make the most of it. I’ll tell all my future dog and cat children about that time I was a billionaire’s fake girlfriend.
It’s too bad Graham’s standing in the kitchen, shirtless, baby-talking to my dog.
He would be a good father.
The thought punches me in the ever-expanding gut, and I collapse on the floor, wailing. A complete mess.
I’m never going to have this. It’s so cruel to be shown this shadow of love then have it snatched away.
Graham silently crouches down next to me, cupping my face. He lifts my chin with two fingers and says, “Tell me who I need to destroy.”
“You’re not destroying anyone.” I sniffle. “Stop playing.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
“I have a kidnapped girl in my penthouse. I think I’m qualified.”
“Just ignore me.”
“Is it Kraig?” The deep voice sounds murderous.
“No, it—”
“It’s me, isn’t it?”
I barely hear the words. I look up at his green eyes.
“Dani, I—”
“Look, I know.” It bursts out of me. “That I’m not who you wanted.
I know you probably thought I was someone prettier and thinner and cooler when you kidnapped me.
And I wish I was better, because this is so unfair.
” I sob. “You can’t just be nice to my dog and be so good in bed and be so amazing at pretending to be my boyfriend, then just not be mine. ”
I wipe my nose. “You keep saying I’m yours, but you’ll never be mine. We won’t get married, and we won’t have kids, and you’ll never tell me you love me.”
“Dani.”
“You’ll never love me, will you? It’s not fair that you can be so perfect—”
“I’m not perfect, I—”
“Yes, you’re, like… possessive and romantic—”
“Please take the money, Dani.”
“I’d rather have you.” I look up at him.
“No, you wouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m like my father—my real one, not Frank. I can’t be trusted around you.”
It’s Beauty and the Beast. My own Heathcliff. He just needs love to save him.
“Dani—”
“I drank too much. Ignore me.” I wipe my eyes.
“Dani—”
“God, this is why I don’t date—because I always knew deep down that I can’t handle it. I can’t handle things like this. I don’t even watch scary movies.”
“Dani, I can’t love you. You don’t understand.”
“I know, I know.”
“No, you don’t.” His thumb wipes the tears from under my eyes. “Do you love me?”
“I don’t know you, really. I just have a fairy-tale prince version of you built up in my head.”
He stares at me. “Do you even want to love me?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want to be in love. Everyone else finds love except me.”
“You want me to make you love me?” He whispers it. Those green eyes are as bright as the diamonds that are inexplicably all over the floor.
I swallow. “Yeah.”
He’s still for a moment. Then he jerks his chin. “Get on your hands and knees.”
“You gonna fuck my ass?” I shiver. That’s what I need—to get fucked, to feel that dick pounding in me.
He grabs my ass, spreading my cheeks. I think he’s going to push me back onto him, give me his cock. Then I feel his breath there.
“What are you… oh. ” I moan. My body seizes up as his tongue flicks out to lick my slit. “You can’t do that. My mom says nice girls don’t let guys—”
There’s another long, slow lick.
“So you want me to stop?”
“Um…” This time his tongue circles my pussy opening. “Weeell, I mean—”
“I want to make you fall in love with me.” The deep voice is a little muffled.
How can his mouth there—where it definitely should not be—make a girl fall head over heels for—
“Oh my fucking god.” I drop down on my elbows as that tongue wraps around my clit. “Shit, that—”
He pulls me back to him and sucks on my clit. The sensation is so deliciously vile. Like there’s a man with his mouth on my pussy eating it like chocolate cake, and suddenly I’m coming, making embarrassing, needy noises as my hips hump his mouth and nose while he licks me.
“Okay, okay.” I swallow. “That was—”
“I’m not done with you,” he growls.
There are diamonds biting into my hands as I moan, my head thrown back, his mouth between my legs. His tongue there feels better than the dildo, feels better than his fingers, feels better than his cock.
“Shit, Graham, that’s…” I moan deep within me.
He reaches up to grab my breast, kneading and pinching the nipple as his tongue licks me, dipping into my opening.
“You were really holding out on me.” My hips are jerking back. He holds my ass spread open for him. Just the image in my head—of him back there, me with my legs spread, just having my pussy licked clean—is enough for me to come again.
“Oh my god, you turned me into a slut,” I whisper. “You gonna fuck me now? Give me that big, huge cock?”
He ignores me. His thumbs part my ass higher.
“I want your cum in my ass,” I whimper.
“God, I really ruined you, didn’t I.” His breath is hot, then I feel his mouth there. And I’m moaning.
“Oh, you really can’t… that… oh my god, that feels so good.”
His mouth is hot and wet with my pussy juices as he eats my ass. It’s way different from taking his cock, and I can’t take it—it feels too good. I come with his fingers on my clit and his tongue dipping in my ass.
“Oh man, that was crazy.” I’m breathing hard. “Wow, you’re good at that.” I reach back to pat him. “What happens now?”
“Now you fall in love with me.”
“Too late,” I moan. “Fuck me,” I beg him, pushing back up on my hands, my knees still splayed.
Then his fingers are where his tongue was—oil-slick as he presses a finger into me, then another. A low moan escapes from me. My knees tremble as he adds a third finger, getting me nice and ready to take his cock.
I’m salivating thinking about his hot cum filling me up. My pussy still feels like it’s on fire from his tongue, and I’m so loose and wet from the pleasure of him. It feels like heaven when his cock slides into me.
“Oh, Graham,” I moan, rocking as he takes me slowly, powerfully. “I’ll never let any other man fuck me.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll only take your cock. Only want your cock. Make me yours. Give me your cum,” I pant as he speeds up, fucking me harder. I arch my back as his hips thrust that hard cock deep inside of me. “I’m your little cum slut, Daddy.”
“Fuck yeah, you are.”
“Daddy, I’ll only take your cum. Give it to me. I want you to fill me up,” I beg him. “Give me your cum. I want you to fill me up. Oh, oh, oh my—”
His fingers are suddenly on my clit, making me come as he spills white-hot inside of me. He rubs my ass as he slowly draws out of me while I let out a long, quiet moan.
I wrap my arms around him. I want to kiss him. I lean forward to catch his mouth, and he turns his head away.
My stomach flips.
Graham nuzzles my nose.
“You still need me to kill someone?” He picks me up, cradling me briefly in his arms, and carries me to the sofa in the adjoining open living space.
The clock chimes midnight. My fairy-tale evening is over.
“No,” I whisper, draping over the couch armrest.
Maybe he knows something’s wrong. Maybe he doesn’t care.
“Let me make you something.”
“I had too much tonight. Too much rich food, way too much alcohol. Probably too much sex.”
“Which is why you need tea.”
He puts on the kettle. It burbles on the counter.
“Milk?” he offers.
“Yeah.”
Steam hisses as he froths milk on a fancy built-in espresso machine that I’m not sure he ever uses, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink coffee.
So I watch the most perfect man in the world, shirtless in the kitchen, making me tea.
“This is a special blend,” he tells me, setting the cup down on a coaster on the coffee table.
“Mr. Fancy Billionaire.”
“I don’t drink coffee. I like tea.”
“That answers that question.” I nudge him with my foot.
“It’s hot,” he warns.
“If it’s cool enough to drink through a straw, then it’s not hot enough.” I burn my tongue. “Ow,” I lisp.
He grabs my hand and takes the cup.
God, it feels so real.
“I want you to do that again while it cools. Just a little bit.”
“It’s going to be ice-cold by the time I’m done with you.”