Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Dismissive Fake-Love Marriage: Kabanata 121 - Kabanata 130

Monica's core was aligned with his dick, her heat through the thin pajama pants a welcoming haven as she holds on tighter. “You won’t.” Jackson doesn't know if she hears him, though, because the promise is made as he kissed along the tendon at her neck, licking up to nibble her earlobe. She tilts her head, giving him more access, and he suckz at the tender skin there. Mon Dieu, he wanted to mark her so everyone knows she was his. No, he wanted to mark her so she knows she was his. So that every time these doubts creep up, she need only look in the mirror and know. When he moves to lift her camisole, planning to lick her breasts until she is liquid for him, she moans unhappily. “The walls, they are too thin. The neighbors will hear.” “I don’t care if the whole world hears you calling out my name.” She laughs as if he was joking, which he was definitely not. “Seriously, if we are doing this, we need to be discreet. I don’t want to piss off Jacqueline any more than I already have, and sh

Taking Monica's hand, he signals to one of the club’s workers, and a few seconds later, they are led to a private room, luxuriously furnished with a round bed that could easily hold a couple . . . or more. Along the walls are various cabinets, and he was sure that if he opened them, he would find all of the playthings anyone could want for sexual pleasure, and probably a few that he had never even imagined. But the only ‘toy’ he wants right now was Monica and what she brings with her to the room. “Dance for me,” Jackson tells her as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “Like you did that first time I saw you . . . shake your ass.” “You want me to twerk?” Monica asks, and he nods as he traces her hips with his own hands. “I’m not that good—” “Now,” he growls, taking command. “Show me how you move that sexy assof yours.” Monica gasps, and for a moment, he wonders if he has gone too far or misread her. But then he sees her breath escape in a shudder and she smiles coyly. Turning, she u

In fact, Jackson sent a gorgeous arrangement of peonies, roses, and lavender to her apartment with a note that he hoped seeing them each night would send her to sleep thinking of him. And they have. She have been head-down in the workroom for hours each day, sewing like a madwoman before bringing garments back to her apartment to do even more hours of tedious and time-consuming hand stitching of the delicate lace toeach piece at night before finally collapsing into bed. The flowers have been a silent cheer from Jackson to keep going. “What do you think?” Monica asks Jeanette. She does a half-turn in her Seduction theme finale piece, checking herself out in the mirror. Inspired by her 1930s lingerie set, she have created a bias-cut dress of thefinest peach silk she could find. Well, in today’s time, it can be considered a dress. In 1930, it would have been considered a nightgown, perhaps part of a bridal trousseau. Especially with the shimmery, semi-translucent fabric. She scans the

She might not understand what she was saying, but she waves at her to do whatever she needs to because Beatrice’s last model is walking out, which means there’s only her four models to go before Jeanette’s walking out there, exposed or not. Thank God she decided on Jeanette’s slow, panther-like walk for all her models. It will give Monica maybe thirty extra seconds. Molly tries to joke. “It’s like a mustache wax . . . only for your tit.” Another time, that might be funny. They all know women have hairs around their nipples and they handle them without making some big announcement about it. But Monica can’t laugh right now. Not when her big finale dress, the one she was already worried about, is in tatters. Monica gets to work, placing long swatches of tape along Jeanette’s chest. “This isn’t fashion tape,” Monica says by way of apology. “It’s pure Gorilla Glue, double- sided, sticky tape. It might just become part of you. Like, you might be able to use it to hold your car keys and pho

“Excuse me?” "Jackson, do not play dumb with me. I’m aware of who you are looking for, and of who you are seeing. You haven’t exactly been subtle, gallivanting allover Paris.” To any bystanders out of earshot, it would appear to be a polite, congenial conversation between close co-workers. Not family. Though there’s bloodbetween them, they were not the sort to make public displays of affection. Nor private ones either, actually. Jacqueline smiles wanly, sipping her champagneas she looks at him with shrewd eyes. Jackson mirror her move, taking a drink of his own bubbly and meeting her eyes. “Are you taking a sudden interest in my social life?” Jackson responds lightly. She clucks her tongue. “I’m always interested in who you see, what you are doing, how you feel. But this? One of the designers? It’s inappropriate at the least, bordering on harassment.”“No need to worry. It’s neither, I assure you.” “No need to worry?” she repeats, horrified. “All I do is worry. Whether you are on