The Billionaire's Kitten: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 11

  The thought of children with this man made my heart flutter. What would it be like to grow heavy with his child? What would it be like to give birth to a little boy with Gray’s blue eyes and black hair, sweet and dimpled? But the voice in my head spoke up again. Stop this shit, it screamed. Stop it, Kitty Jones, you’re nothing but an employee to this guy. So give the fairy tales a break and get with real life.

  The pain in my soul stung, but I forced myself to turn and look at the big man again.

  “Gray,” I began slowly. “What we have, it’s hot, it’s exciting, but being a parent is completely not part of our contract. Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head firmly. “So we’ve got to do something. I’ll see the doctor about getting on the pill, but in the meantime, we have to use condoms. We have to.”

  Gray’s expression didn’t change, his eyes fixed on the road, but a muscle twitched in that strong jaw involuntarily. Oh god, was I in trouble now?

  But he didn’t address the issue head-on.

  “So what if you get pregnant?” he asked casually, not even taking his eyes from the road. “So what?”

  I gasped. This was not what I expected.

  “We have an agreement!” I said, completely stunned. “We get married and then divorced as soon as you get control of The Milano. Don’t you remember? We agreed!” I sputtered.

  “Of course I remember,” the big man answered smoothly, raising an eyebrow at me. “I could never forget that pussy fuck in my office, with my mom walking in to boot. But sweetheart, that’s the thing,” he continued. “There was no talk of a baby during that conversation.”

  I gapsed at him.

  “But wouldn’t a baby be a no-no?” I asked. God, why did I have to use the word “no-no”? It made me sound like child myself, so I took a deep breath and tried again.

  “Gray,” I said firmly. “I can’t get pregnant. We can’t get pregnant. We’re getting divorced remember? And if we’re getting divorced, there’s no way we should have a baby together.”

  The billionaire just shrugged.

  “Maybe I want you as my baby mama,” he growled, throwing me a look, blue eyes flashing. “Maybe what that saleslady said was right. You’re eighteen, ripe and fertile, so why not? You could have a couple of my kids, it’d be no problem.”

  I stared at him even as my body thrilled to the idea. Oh god, not just having one of his kids, but a few? Getting pregnant over and over again, that virile sperm seeding my fertile body in perpetuity? God, I wanted it, I absolutely wanted it.

  But common sense took over because I frowned then, brown eyes grave. The billionaire was just throwing things out there, none of the words even made sense.

  “Gray, please,” I said in a soft voice. “Please be serious. You don’t need a baby mama, I don’t need to be anyone’s baby mama, what we need to do is to use protection. I’ll get on the pill asap, but it takes a while to kick in. So promise you’ll use condoms next time, okay?”

  The alpha was silent, staring at the road in front of us, those eyes inscrutable.

  “Gray?” I prompted again, this time reaching a hand out to rest on a strong forearm. “Do you promise?”

  Looking down at where we touched, those blue eyes blazed as he answered.

  “I promise,” he growled, swinging that devastating gaze at me, making me shiver. “If that’s what my baby girl wants, then so be it. I promise.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time, my heart was heavy. Because for a split second there, the clouds had parted and a ray of sunshine had touched my soul. The unthinkable had happened and that was the possibility of children with Gray, and maybe, just maybe, even a future. Could it come true? Could something so amazing happen to a poor girl like me? Oh god, please, yes.

  But my inner voice spoke again. You’re just a hired gun, it said scornfully. You’re getting paid just like the thousands of other women who work at his hotel. So don’t get your hopes up. You’re no Cinderella, and Gray’s no prince. Get your head out of the clouds and back to Earth, the voice commanded. Once the alpha gets his money, you’re a goner.

  And tears pooling in my eyes, I nodded silently. God, the voice was right. I was a no one, hired to play a role so that the billionaire could fulfill the terms of some godawful will. And once he got what he wanted, I’d be tossed out like yesterday’s trash, my shelf life expired. All this had been made clear from the get go. So why was I hoping? Or more accurately, why did I want to be with Grayson Channing so bad?

  I bit my lip and looked out the window, mind whirling this way and that, spinning all sorts of reasons. But I forced myself to stop because it didn’t matter. The boundaries were drawn, every line crystal clear. I was nothing but an actress and once the curtain went down, there was only one way out … the exit.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gray

  Holy shit, is this really happening? Is this really going down?

  I was standing in a small wedding chapel at the Milano, dressed in a gray suit with a blue tie. The sun streamed through stained glass windows, lighting up the small room, teak pews gleaming as the minister beamed.

  And yeah, this really is my life. Gray Channing is getting married, the impossible was coming true. So? the voice in my head snorted. It’s just a fake marriage, you’re getting divorced as soon as the money’s released.

  And my internal voice was right. I should have felt nothing. This ceremony should have meant absolutely zero, but instead I was proud to be here. My huge chest was strong and straight, arms powerful as I waited by the altar. And though I looked relaxed, in no way was I relaxed at all. If anything, my heart was thumping like a fucking drum, practically bursting with excitement.

  The voice came again. What the fuck is wrong with you? That wedding certificate isn’t even worth the paper it’s printed on. So what the fuck?

  But my heart wouldn’t listen to the words in my head. Because oh shit, I was getting married to the sweetest, most beautiful woman I know. Kitty was gonna be here in just a sec, and I couldn’t wait to see her curves, to gaze into those beautiful brown eyes as we said, “I do.”

  And as the door opened, the air whooshed out of my chest. Because Kitty stood there, framed in the doorway and oh shit, but she was everything I’d dreamed of. The girl was so fucking gorgeous, unbelievably innocent yet sensuous, a smile wreathing her lips, eyes looking straight into mine. And oh shit, but that material clung to her curves, outlining those sassy tits, the way her hips swung like a sexy pendulum.

  She shot a secret smile my way, making my blood boil, but there was nothing I could do because the wedding march began to play. And on cue, the girl stepped forward, one petite white shoe trailing the other.

  But immediately a growl rose in my chest because yeah, the female was walking with a limp. It wasn’t obvious or anything, someone who didn’t know her wouldn’t be able to tell.

  But I fucking knew. I knew from the way her hips swayed that she had a deep pussy ache, her cunt sore from the regular poundings of my dick. And oh fuck yeah, as she limped a little more towards me, her ass twisted weirdly too, making me grin like a motherfucker. Because I’m a two-hole man and I go at that delicious rump like there’s no tomorrow, like I’ll never get enough.

  So fuck yeah, a wash of pure masculine satisfaction rolled over me as the woman approached. She was the female of my dreams, sore in both special places because of my hard work, and it was so fucking awesome. But this was literally our marriage ceremony, and not the time to be ravaging a sweet princess.

  “Hi,” she whispered, stepping next to me and taking my hand. “Hi.”

  I looked deep into those caramel eyes, limpid pools of sweetness.

  “Hi yourself,” I ground out, gripping her small hand tight. “How are you, Mrs. Channing?”

  She giggled slightly, about to say something, but then the minister began.

  “Dearly beloved,” he intoned. “We are gathered here today …”

  Of course, only my mom was here as a wit
ness, so the “we” was a little exaggerated. But still, who the fuck cares? The fact is that I was getting married to a nymphet, the girl of my dreams, and it was gonna be legit in the eyes of man, god, and the law of the land. Nothing was gonna tear us apart.

  Emotions whirled, my chest tight. Who would have thought it’d feel this good to tie the knot? I’ve always seen it as an evil. Not even a necessary evil, just pure evil. Because why would you put yourself through something like marriage? There’s a shit ton of pussy to fuck, why restrict yourself to one? There’s a world of cunt juice to sample, so why stick with only one flavor?

  But looking down at Kitty, the reasons were crystal clear. Because this female is unlike any other. She’s curvy, sweet and ripe, without a mean bone in her body. She’d give her coat to a homeless person on a cold day, she’d give her last quarter to a child going hungry.

  And all that should have turned me off. After all, I’m a business magnate, I run homeless people off my property and children going hungry? There’s no time for shit like that when my casino is practically minting money.

  But somehow Kitty’s shown me another way, and I love the goodness that radiates from that curvy form, how she has a smile for everyone. I love the fact that she’s soft to my hard, the sweet to my sour, gentle and giving one hundred percent.

  So yeah, here I was beaming at my bride, chest puffed out like a fucking penguin. And when the minster intoned, “You may kiss the bride,” there was zero hesitation. I enveloped that curvy form with arms like steel bands and ravished her mouth, the world fading to a blur around us.

  “Umm, Gray,” she murmured, breasts heaving against my chest. “Mmmm.”

  Fuck, it was such a fucking turn-on, her lips so sweet, breath like perfume. So I went in for another deep kiss, this time one hand going up to squeeze a big breast, to feel that heavy weight in my palm. Fuck yeah, I was gonna fuck these titties, they belonged to me now.

  But the minister coughed politely and we broke off, panting. If my mom hadn’t been here, I would have fucked into Kitty right here, torn that dress off and let her pussy get the ride of its life.

  But we’ve already shocked Rhonda once, and there’s no need to do it again. So instead, I grabbed my new wife’s hand, planting one more kiss on her lips before turning to face my mom.

  “Rhonda, meet your new daughter-in-law,” I grunted. “The new Mrs. Channing.”

  My mom laughed, leaning forward to kiss Kitty’s cheek.

  “I’m so glad you’re Mrs. Channing now,” Rhonda said with a sparkle in her eye. “Because being called Mrs. Channing always made me feel so old,” she confided.

  We all chuckled but then Kitty’s face grew serious.

  “I’m honored to be the new Mrs. Channing,” she said in a soft voice. “I won’t let you down.”

  My chest puffed out.

  “Of course you won’t,” I ground out. “You couldn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

  “Oh there goes Gray!” sang Rhonda, waving a hand in the air. “I’ve never seen him act like this, you’re the perfect match for him,” she added with a confidential air. “With his past girlfriends, he never even smiled. I don’t know why he dated them,” she said with a mock frown my way. “But are you ready for your wedding brunch now? Because we need to celebrate!”

  I snorted under my breath. Of course my old girlfriends didn’t make me smile. That’s because they weren’t much more than fuckbuddies, warm bodies that had a mouth and two convenient holes down below. They made my dick spurt and that’s all I needed.

  But with Kitty it’s different. Kitty’s a whole new ballgame, there’s so much more than that to this chickadee. There was the smile that made me hard, the sweet intelligence, and of course that round body. Those generous curves belong to me now and I was salivating, just thinking what I’d do to her later.

  But every woman deserves a wedding celebration, so the three of us went upstairs to a private dining room, and dug into a five-course brunch, complete with endless champagne.

  “Mmm,” murmured Kitty, savoring a tall stack of pancakes generously doused in syrup.

  I looked on approvingly.

  “Baby that’s all yours,” I growled under my breath. “And if you need more, we can always ask the staff for seconds. Or thirds.”

  Kitty grew red, going still.

  “I don’t want to seem like a pig, but this is just so delicious,” she murmured. “The pancakes are fluffy and buttery, yet light and crisp too. But no bride should eat this much,” she added ruefully, looking down at her stomach. “I’ll explode from this dress.”

  I, too, looked down and the sight made me hard. Because Kitty’s tummy was exactly right. It pooched out beneath the white lace with a curve of its own and my thoughts immediately got dirty. What would it feel like to rub my dick against that swell, to fuck into her belly button before burying myself between her legs? What would it feel like to fill her up with jism until that stomach grew huge and round, bursting with my child? Oh hell yeah, I wanted it, this brunch couldn’t end sooner.

  But unfortunately, my mom was here, and Rhonda had to have her say.

  “It’s great that you eat,” she clucked, plucking daintily at a berry on her eggs. “Gray’s old girlfriends never ate.”

  I groaned under my breath. Why was Rhonda bringing up my exes? It was so fucking annoying, the past was the past, couldn’t she keep her trap shut?

  But Kitty gasped, looking at Rhonda with wide eyes.

  “They didn’t eat?” she asked. “But how did they survive?”

  “Who knows?” shrugged Rhonda, cutting up some ham. “Those girls all had eating disorders, it was so unfortunate. There was that one who always excused herself in the middle of a meal. What was her name again? Rose? Sunflower?”

  “Violet,” I grunted. The sooner my mom stopped the better, because this was about to get gory. But Rhonda was on a roll, and it’s impossible to stop her when she wants to talk.

  “Right, Violet,” she cooed. “That poor thing always got up in the middle of a meal to throw up. We’d hear her inside the bathroom hacking and coughing, vomiting up a storm, with the inevitable three flushes afterwards. So much comes up, you know,” she confided to Kitty. “It’s far more than you realize.”

  Kitty gasped.

  “I’ve never thrown up in my life,” she admitted. “Not since I was a kid at least.”

  “Exactly,” said my mom triumphantly. “Why throw up unless you have stomach flu? It’s a waste of good food. But the story gets worse,” she said in a dramatic manner.

  Kitty stared, the tension in the air palpable.

  “What? How could this be worse? I’d imagine the vomiting sounds during each meal would be bad enough.”

  “Oh it was terrible!” exclaimed Rhonda, waving a hand in the air. “Absolutely terrible. But you know, honey, sometimes these girls can’t get to a toilet in time, and yet they still throw up,” she said.

  “But where?” asked Kitty. “Where do they go?”

  “Oh just into a broom closet, a linen closet, any private space they can find. And so Violet did that sometimes. She always had plastic bags on her and would do her upchucking in a spare room. But the thing is she left her bags there. She figured housekeeping would come and pick it up, but sometimes we got there before housekeeping did.”

  “Oh my god!” gasped Kitty, a hand covering her mouth. “You guys would stumble upon bags of vomit all through your house?”

  Rhonda nodded.

  “Absolutely,” she said with a regretful smile. “It was disgusting and it smelled disgusting too. Because you know bulimics have stomach problems,” she said in a low whisper. “Their digestive systems are wrecked after years of this stuff.”

  Here, I had to step in.

  “Mom, stop,” I growled. “Stop talking about my exes, it’s our wedding brunch for crying out loud. Stop this shit,” I commanded.

  Rhonda nodded, brushing it off.

  “Oh I know,” she said airily.
“I just wanted your new wife to know that she’s a dramatic improvement over the others. As long as you don’t go leaving bags of vomit around my house,” she threw at Kitty teasingly.

  My wife smiled then.

  “Oh don’t worry I won’t,” the brunette reassured Rhonda. But then her expression went serious. “But I do feel for those girls. It’s so terrible, they have real mental illnesses that are very serious. I hope they were able to get professional help.”

  I looked at my new wife hard. Was she fucking serious? But the big brown eyes were grave, and emotion welled up from deep inside, chest going tight.

  Because Kitty is a sweet girl who’d give you the clothes off her back, and that was happening right here, right now. She should have hated these women on sight, should have cackled merrily at their misfortune. But instead, Kitty just wanted the best for them. She understood that these were females whose minds were so fucked up that they couldn’t even put food in their gut. I was amazed and stared at the female appreciatively, hardly believing she was mine now. What did I do to deserve this?

  “Gray? Gray, Gray, you alright?” clucked my mom. “Earth to Gray.”

  I snapped back into focus, tearing my eyes from Kitty’s heavenly body.

  “Sorry, just got distracted for a sec,” I grunted, turning back to my eggs. “Sorry, you were saying?”

  But Rhonda smiled then.

  “Oh I shouldn’t be here,” she cooed. “You were distracted by your beautiful bride, of course. This should be a romantic brunch for two, and instead I’m here, spoiling the moment.”

  “Oh no!” Kitty exclaimed immediately. “That’s not it at all! We love having you with us, don’t we Gray?” she looked at me meaningfully.

  I grunted. I’ve known my mom my whole life, and Rhonda’s got a way of getting her way with everyone. Unfortunately, my new wife wasn’t exempt.

  “Right, we love having you,” I muttered under my breath.

  And that was exactly what Rhonda wanted to hear. Because she smiled sweetly and dropped the bomb then.