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I asked, moving away from her. She was quiet for a while until she replies; “I’m Gina Lopez. One of Eric’s ex contract mistresses.”

Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up from the ground, but before I could regain my balance, a woman next to me landed a punch, sending me sprawling back down. She raised her phone, shoving the screen close to my face, her voice dripping with mockery. "Look, everyone. This is what happens to mistresses!" The screen was flooded with fast-scrolling comments, and yet I caught glimpses of the vile insults directed at me. They said I deserved to lose my child. They lamented missing the moment when the fake heiress had caused my child's death. They added that I, a mistress like me, should rot in hell with my baby, for it was important to eliminate the problem at its source.

"You think you're better than me, Cynthia? You think you're a real model?" Cynthia chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, I don't just think I'm a model, Loo. I am one. And I have the talent and beauty to back it up." The tension between them was thick. "You're just a common mistress enjoying benefits. Look around, Louisa. You don't belong here. This is for people with class, not cheap mistresses."

I was supposed to be offended by that but somehow I find it cute seeing her do that. It reminded me of our dating days, she was always so cute when she was angry. “I came here to ask how we are going to do this? And are you serious about me being your mistress?” She asks, saying the last part in a serious tone. “It was just to spike you, trust me, though I do want to do naughty things with you but we are going to keep it professional like you said. This is a deal between us, you warm my bed for a year to pay back what you owe.”

Her heels rattled down the hallway as she tried to find his way to her room. The receptionist downstairs had been more than ready to let her into his room. Not surprising. The billionaire playboy must have frequented this place with numerous women whom he barely knew their names. It's just a mission, Emily told herself as she approached The room. All I have to do is have sex with him and secure my place as his personal assistant, steal from him and leave him forever. He's never even going to see it coming. She had no idea how much longer she would keep crossing paths with Edmund Hamilton.

I hated how my body reacted to his, yet I was never going to let him know. “ What is it that you don't want to do anymore? ” He inquired, his tone even more taunting than before. It was such a good time for him to make fun of me. Slowly, I raised my head and found his face just inches apart. ' I get what I want Alice Anderson and with someone as desperate as you, everything is too easy. ' He had said this when he offered me to become his mistress. I did not know or understand anything at that time.

Just below the pic a phrase caught her eyes and that was - " PRINCE OF NIGHTLIFE " •••••• The girl moaned loudly but her moans got muffled by the pillow. She is on her knees and her face is buried deep in the pillow, her hands were behind her back gripped hardly by a man who is plunging his hard rod deep inside her womanhood. Her painful yet pleasurable moans, his raging breath and skin slapping are the only sounds to be heard in the whole luxurious room of the penthouse present at the 100th floor of the building. She screamed more loudly when he gripped her waist more tightly digging his nail on her waist giving her hard yet slow thrust.

~Jolene’s POV~ Lana Luck, that's my screen name. I am a twenty year old Only Fans Model and I am not your typical virgin. Sure, I have never fucked a real man, but, but, but, I have fucked better. I have put every possible toy in my vag and a*s and I enjoy doing so, in front of all my subscribers. I am one of the most followed anonymous webcam models in America. With over 200k monthly subscribers and my earnings are in millions, mostly men, but I even have some female followers.

Apparently, none of that mattered when your ex-mistress was you and your ex-lover was Julian Thorne, billionaire tech mogul and emotional black hole in a three-piece suit. “You signed the Mistress Clause, Camille.” “I burned it.” He tilted his head, like a predator mildly entertained by its prey. “Clause Sixteen,” he murmured. “What the hell is Clause Sixteen?” Julian stepped in close, so close I could feel his breath—cool, sharp like mint and menace. “If the mistress attempts to leave, emotionally manipulate, or engage another man, the beneficiary of the agreement has the right to reclaim control by any means necessary.” I gasped. “You’re not serious—”

"Sophie knows about the penthouse now. It’s not safe for you to stay there. Be a good girl, Sophia." Because I was "sensible," I had agreed to be his shadow for five years.Now, he was trying to coax me into being his kept mistress, hidden away in a different cage while he played house with his wife. I pushed him away hard.Just as I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell, a piercing wail from Sophie echoed from the front hall.