Marriage Of Convenience: A BWWM Billionaire Love Story Read online

  James smiled. “Perhaps not. I would consider it in the most positive light if you answered me anyway.”

  “What you consider or don’t consider is none of my business. you tried to manipulate your family with your money. You lost. Get over it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding to get ready for.”

  James’ eyes glowed with anger. He opened his mouth to retort but then closed it again, turned around and stalked out. Leila slumped on the seat feeling like her heart might just leave her chest, it was pounding so hard.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  She picked up her phone, intending to text Jonathon and tell him but then decided no. There was no need for him to be perturbed. She texted his mother instead to inform her. Just in case.

  *****

  It was a beautiful ceremony. The groom and his mother cried, while the bride and hers provided tissues and wide smiles. There was a procession through the street between the church and the reception led by a marching band. There was a lot of dancing in the street and the bride at one point alighted from the horse drawn carriage they were in to dance a jig with her cousins. The groom looked on and laughed. The reception continued in much the same vein, laughter and tears and embarrassing speeches from both sides. Jonathon could not remember when he’d been so happy.

  They drove off halfway through the festivities.

  “God, I can’t wait to consummate this bitch, it's all I’ve been thinking about all day,” he said as he bit into her ear.

  “Really? Even when you were saying your vows? That’s what you were thinking about?”

  “Yes,” Jonathon said trying to burrow into her dress to get to her breasts. They were tightly ensconced in a corset so she wished him luck with that. He did eventually manage to scoop them out though, and sucked happily and so loudly that Leila was embarrassed for the driver. They reached their apartment and Jonathon covered her bared breasts with his coat and carried her upstairs. It was an impressive feat and she made sure to reward him with kisses. There was a package waiting at their door, with a note attached.

  “What’s this?” Jonathon asked as if they hadn’t both just arrived together at their door. He put her down and picked it up, studying it. It was long and heavy, wrapped like a present.

  “Hey, maybe Carlyle sent it,” Leila suggested. “Its probably a bong.”

  Jonathon snorted and opened the door, placing the package just inside, he turned around to pick Leila up in his arms again.

  “Well whatever it is, it can wait until after,” he said.

  “After what?” Leila asked in feigned ignorance. Jonathon didn’t deign to answer. Just slammed the door behind them and hurried to the bedroom, dropping her unceremoniously onto the bed.

  “Hi,” he said with a lascivious smile on his face, discarding his shirt as he did so.

  “Hi,” she answered, pulling her dress up and showing all the nothing underneath.

  Jonathon’s eyes glazed over. “You always know exactly what I need don’t you?” he said as he dived between her legs. Leila let out a scream as his tongue touched that sensitive nub inside of her.

  “That’s because you always know what I need,” she replied breathlessly just before she felt her spirit leave her body. Jonathon was applying himself with admirable dedication, sucking and biting with just enough pressure to drive her around the bend.

  “Ughhh,” she murmured, arching off the bed and into his mouth. He gripped her thighs, trying to control her movements. It was difficult; she got twitchy when she was very aroused. He took her legs and put them on his shoulders, digging in with his tongue and carving himself a niche within her. Her body shuddered and she leaned forward, demonstrating extreme athletic ability as she caught hold of his hair and pulled his head out of her.

  “Fuck me now,” she ordered, legs still shaking.

  “Your wish is my command he said, releasing her legs from his shoulders and standing up to divest himself of his pants and socks.

  “C’mere,” he whispered, catching hold of her legs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna penetrate you so far I’ll never be able to find my way out.”

  He flipped her over onto her stomach demonstrating to her that he was a lot stronger than he looked. He caught hold of the sides of her hips and lifted them up so she was on her hands and knees, on the edge of the bed, at perfect height for him. She waited breathlessly as he ran his hands up and down her sides and in her gluteal cleft, as his breathing got harsher and the heat in his hands escalated.

  “Do it Jonny,” she pleaded. “Do it now.”

  It was apparently the signal he’d been waiting for; he surged forward and was deep inside her in one thrust. The shock made her lose her breath for a moment and then she was pushing back at him as he fucked into her. She could feel him inside with each thrust, and the gathering heat was making her literally crazy.

  “Faster. Fuck me faster. Harder. Now. Please,” she said reaching back to grasp his thigh and pull him closer. He obeyed, going faster and breathing harder and louder.

  “Fuck!” he whispered hoarsely as his whole body shuddered. “Leila,” he said as he released himself inside her. Her whole body convulsed, her back arched as her own orgasm took her.

  She shuddered and fell forward, propelling him too so he fell on top of her, reaching his hands out to prevent himself from crashing into her. Leila laughed as he bent backwards to withdraw from inside her and then flopped down on the bed beside her.

  “I love you,” he said happily.

  “Yeah. I know,” she replied.

  Epilogue

  The package turned out to be a long decorative pipe. Jonathon opened the note with curiosity, hoping for an explanation.

  Dear Jonathon and Leila,

  When the Native Americans sued for peace with foes, the reconciliation ceremony involved smoking a peace pipe, similar to the one I have given you in the hope that one day, you will smoke it with me. I am an old man, with no desire to repeat the mistakes of the past. Maybe this old dog, can learn some new tricks.

  My heartiest congratulations on the occasion of your marriage.

  Yours with Love.

  Grandpa.

  The end.

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  More Books By Cher Etan (And The Billionaire's Surrogate preview)

  If you enjoyed this story, you'll absolutely enjoy Cher Etan's other book The Billionaire's Surrogate:

  Here's what it's about:

  A complete story with no cliff hanger.

  Money is nothing without someone to love.

  Max is a billionaire with a lot going for him. He has the money, the looks, and a personality to boot. But when diagnosed with prostate cancer, his life turns around in an instant.

  Everything that was once important now seems trivial to him, and he soon realizes he hasn't achieved his one main goal in life:

  Having a baby.

  With his cancer treatment predicted to leave him sterile, he decides hiring a surrogate mother to bare his child is the best option. And Christine, a relative of his house keeper,
agrees to the role.

  But soon after the process, further tests reveals Max doesn't have cancer after all and won't become infertile. Now the question of where this leaves him and Christine arises.

  Will she simply remain the mother of his child? Or will an even more personal relationship form from this unexpected turn of events?

  Find out in this touching love filled romance by Cher Etan.

  Suitable for over 18s only due to passionate love making scenes likely to leave you needing a cold shower.

  Here's a quick preview:

  “Dear all, we are gathered here today to celebrate the nuptials between Christine Alexandre Richards and Rudy Sinclair. If anyone has any objection as to why these two individuals should not be joined in Holy Matrimony, please speak up now or forever hold your peace,” the priest said solemnly. He was inexplicably dressed in a red jumpsuit and had on make up. In fact, he looked very much like RuPaul if Christine was not mistaken. Still, it was her wedding day and she was ecstatic.

  “I object,” the voice said. Again and again and again; that voice always objected. No matter what other details of the wedding changed, that one remained the same.

  Slowly, even though she tried to stop herself doing it, Christine turned around. It felt like one of those slow motion scenes in movies when something horrible is going to happen. The heroine is only ever in time to turn around with a scream and shout “No” in that slow motion voice that sounded like a nineties tape recorder when the tape stuck. The woman was always standing there dressed head to toe in yellow…yellow; such a festive color to choose to go around breaking up people’s weddings…and their hearts. She was a white woman, taller than average and curvy. In fact her ass was just about the curviest thing Christine had ever seen…and she’d grown up in an African American neighborhood so she should know. She wore high yellow heels, they were almost golden in fact and her toes were gaily painted blue. She had on a hat…with a veil. The veil just barely covered her blue eyes and her red lined smiling lips were staring cruelly and mercilessly at Christine as she voiced her objection. When she was sure she had everyone’s attention in the room she sauntered over to the altar and slipped her hand through Rudy’s. He seemed to be frozen to the spot and didn’t object.

  “You can’t marry him because he’s already mine,” the woman said with a triumphant smile.

  It was always at this point that Christine startled awake in a cold sweat; the dream that wasn’t a dream not fading conveniently but echoing as if continuing in some other dimension close by.

  “Rudy,” she would whisper in despair and then get out of bed to go rinse her face and get herself a glass of water.

  “Bad dream?” her grandmother would ask, coming out of her room when Christine did. Christine would shrug like it was nothing and go to the kitchen. Her grandmother would follow and begin heating some milk for hot chocolate.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Christine would say.

  “I know,” her grandmother would reply, eyes on the milk to make sure it didn’t boil over.

  *****

  Max Lestrange was in the front row, sitting next to his beautiful model date, he was pretty sure her name was Kendal but he wasn’t a hundred percent positive of that. They were here to watch the big fight as guests of the mayor of Las Vegas. Max was good friends with her husband. He had been like a father figure to him as he learned the ropes of being an attorney at law and in turn Max had supported him when he and then his wife, had run for office. The press was out in force because the match was a big deal between the defending champion and his closest contender. Max was trying to enjoy himself but it had been a strange day; perhaps he was getting old because all he wanted to do was lie down. The wine he’d taken with dinner was making him dizzy and not in a good way and the room was hot in spite of the air conditioning. He could feel the sweat on his forehead and his upper lip. He really was not liking himself today and wished he could just excuse himself and go lie down. The match was starting though and servers were coming around with more champagne. Maybe that would make him feel better. He took a glass and downed it at once, more for the cold wetness than the taste but it did not make him feel better at all. In fact, if he was honest it made him feel queasy and nauseous. He was afraid he would have to excuse himself soon if things did not settle down on their own. Kendal or Kim or whatever her name was leaned toward him with a smile, murmuring something about how exciting it was. Max murmured something suitable in reply and then leaned over to speak with the mayor.

  “Carolyn, I have to excuse myself,” he said standing up. fighting the wave of dizziness that assailed him. He really needed to lie down.

  “Oh, what’s up?” Carolyn asked.

  Max opened his mouth to reply but then the world was replaced with darkness and he knew no more.

  *****

  He woke to a beeping sound and the feel of a cool breeze on his buttocks. He had difficulty opening his eyes, they seemed welded shut…that or he had no eyes any longer.

  “Hallo,” he croaked still trying valiantly to open his eyes. “Anybody there?”

  “Mr. Lestrange sir, you’re awake,” the voice of his housekeeper said sounding relieved. “I’ll get the nurse.”

  “Martha wait,” he said sharply and felt her stop moving. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

  “Oh, they applied some sort of paste over them, I think to stop them fluttering…you were convulsing sir. Anyway, I’ll get the nurse,” Martha said.

  Max waited impatiently for someone to come and tell him what was going on with him. He continued to try and open his eyes. He thought of wiping the paste off with his hands but when he tried to move them, he felt a pinprick of pain and a pulling sensation he didn’t like so he ceased to do that forthwith.

  “Ah, Mr. Lestrange, welcome back to the land of the living,” a low male voice said to him, sounding too familiar for someone he’d never met.

  “And you are?” he asked coldly.

  “I’m doctor Schofield, your physician,” the voice said.

  “I see,” Max replied. “And what exactly is wrong with me?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” the doctor replied breezily.

  “Could you remove this paste so I can open my eyes?” Max asked irritably.

  “Of course. Nurse?” the doctor’s voice said. After a moment, Max felt a cool cloth wiping him gently around his eyes. He could feel whatever was holding his eyes closed loosen its hold and suddenly he could see again, his eyes were open and he was staring at Martha, his black housekeeper for nigh on fifteen years now, and a young man with black hair and vivid blue eyes who was wearing a white lab coat. He was also smiling at him as if he couldn’t be more pleased with himself. Max hated him on sight.

  “So you don’t know what’s wrong with me, why am I here?” he asked coldly.

  Dr. Schofield’s smile faltered a bit but it came back, almost at full wattage. “We’re running tests. Your temperature was elevated very high when you came in. So much so that you were convulsing. You almost went into shock but we pulled you back. Your white blood cell count is also elevated which means you’re sporting an infection of some kind. Hopefully once the blood work comes back we’ll know more.”

  Max stared into the middle distance. “I see,” he said. “My doctor’s name is Carlyle Benson; I’m sure my housekeeper’s told you. Would you kindly summon him?”

  “Your housekeeper did inform us of your doctor’s name and the fact that you would want him – but he is not affiliated with this hospital and so-“

  “Then move me to a facility with which he is affiliated,” Max interrupted.

  That at least wiped the smile off Dr. Schofield’s face. “Mr. Lestrange you have to know that you are very weak right now and not in any position to be moved,” he said in a more subdued tone than he’d been hitherto using. “It would not behoove you to try and do so. At least wait until you’re stronger.”

  Max glared at him, wanting to punch him in the face but trul
y feeling too weak to move. He hated it, this weakness; and it scared the hell out of him. What had happened to him?

  “Have you checked my system for drugs?” he asked.

  “It's one of the tests requested,” Dr. Schofield said. “If you can be just a little patient we should know in an hour or two what ails you.”

  “An hour or two?” Max exclaimed in disbelief.

  “We ordered extensive tests sir,” Dr. Schofield said.

  Max just glared at him, wanting to get out of bed, possibly hit something; preferably the good doctor. But he just lay back in defeat and stared at the ceiling.

  “Martha, did you bring my bed clothes?” he asked.

  “Yes sir, right here,” Martha said placing a pair of pajamas on the bedside table where Max could see them.

  “Can I at least change out of this mortifying gown?” Max asked the doctor.

  Dr. Schofield opened his mouth to explain hospital policy but then closed it again. This level of politics was above his pay grade. “Sure,” he said and walked out of the room together with the nurse so that Max could change. As soon as they were alone, Max relaxed.

  “Martha what happened?” he asked.

  “You collapsed at the fight sir,” Martha begun at once. “The casino called an ambulance and the mayor called me. They had already brought you here to this hospital by the time I could get here. I called Dr. Benson and he arrived to check on you but they only allowed him in as a professional courtesy but they said he could not treat you because of that affiliation thing. He said to call him as soon as you woke. I’ve already sent him a text.”

  “Good girl. Anything else?” Max asked.

  Martha shook her head. “Everything is under control sir. Whitby is handling the press, Constantine has informed the board of what is happening.”

  “What’s he telling the press?” Max wanted to know.

  “No information at this time,” Martha said.

  Max nodded. “That might not be the best strategy for the stocks. Ask him to change that to a bad case of the flu.”

  “Yes sir,” Martha said taking out her phone to text Whitby.