The Borrowed Girlfriend

This is a cheating girlfriend story so if this is not your cup of tea, please avoid it. I have read the idea of this story somewhere on here but cannot recall exactly whose concept I am copying.

"I'm sorry--he what?"

Chelsea put down her glass of wine and stared across the sofa at Mark. She wore an old off-the-shoulder jumper--thin cotton that clung to the curves of her breasts and black leggings that moulded to her hips and thighs. The look was casual, but still very sexy.

Mark gave his best apologetic grin. "He told his work he has a girlfriend. A hot one."

Chelsea rolled her green eyes. "Of course he did."

"He didn't think it would matter," Mark said, shrugging. "But now it's an overnight event--Saturday night gala dinner. Plus, the company booked everyone into this boutique hotel. Partners are expected."

She narrowed her gaze. "And now Mr. 'All Women Want Me' is desperate, I suppose?"

"Well... yeah."

"I cannot believe you're seriously asking me to spend an entire evening pretending to be Sean's girlfriend," Chelsea said, her voice sharp. "Mark, I don't even like him."

"You tolerate him," Mark said, trying for levity.

She gave him a look.

"Fine," he added, raising his hands. "You barely tolerate him."

Chelsea set her glass down and turned to face him properly, crossing her arms beneath her full bust. "He used to hit on me, Mark. All the time."

"That was before we got serious," Mark said quickly. "He doesn't anymore. He respects boundaries now."

"He's still a sleaze," she said. "Always eyeing up women like they're meat. You've seen him--he undresses people with his eyes."

"Not you."

Chelsea scoffed. "Oh, please. Every time we're out with him, I can feel his stare when I turn around. He thinks he's subtle, but he's not."

Mark reached for her hand. "Chels... I know he can be a bit much. But he really is in a bind. This job's important to him. It's one night--he swears you'll have separate rooms. No funny business. You'd be doing him a huge favour. And me."

Chelsea hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"It's black tie, I assume?" she said finally.

"Yeah. Fancy venue, company-paid dinner, live music."

"So I'll need something to wear."

"I'll buy you a dress," Mark said immediately, hopeful. "Anything you want. Something you have always wanted."

Chelsea gave a dry laugh. "You want his jaw to drop?"

"I trust you," he said gently. "And he knows you're with me."

Chelsea studied him, her green eyes thoughtful. She wasn't blind to Sean's appeal. Tall, broad-shouldered, always with that perfectly dishevelled look. That lazy grin. That cocky, self-assured energy. She'd hated it. And, once or twice, she'd felt it stir something anyway. Which made her hate it even more.

She sighed. "I swear, if he so much as brushes my thigh--"

"I'll break his legs," Mark said with a smile.

Chelsea rolled her eyes again, but she was already reaching for her phone. "Fine. Tell him I'll go. I'll need a new dress, heels, maybe even hair done if it's a proper event."

Mark leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You're amazing."

Mark set up a WhatsApp group between himself, Chelsea and Sean.

Mark:

Just spoke to Chels. She's in.

You're welcome, mate.

Sean:

No way.

You serious??

Chelsea--you're actually doing this for me?

You are an actual angel

Chelsea:

Let's not go overboard.

It's one evening. And if you so much as make one inappropriate move, god help you.

Sean:

Promise. Full respect. Two rooms.

VIP service. You'll be treated like a queen.

Mark:

Just don't get drunk and try to impress her with your abs or something.

I'll know.

Sean:

You think I'd pull that old trick?

Wait till she sees the suit. Game over.

Chelsea:

I'm already regretting this.

Later That Week -- Private Text from Sean

Sean:

Hey, just thought I'd check in directly.

What kind of vibe are we going for with your dress? Glam? Sultry? Red carpet?

Chelsea:

Nice try.

Something elegant. Not stripper-chic.

Sean:

Who said anything about stripper?

(Although now that you mention it... ????)

Chelsea:

Grow up!

Sean:

I just want to make sure we look like a real couple. You know--coordinated.

I'm wearing a midnight blue tux. Open collar, no tie. Laid-back.

You?

Chelsea:

Still deciding. Probably something floor-length. Maybe black or deep green.

We'll match enough. Don't worry.

Sean:

Green. Now that I like.

Will bring out those wicked eyes of yours.

Chelsea:

????

Sean:

I'll take that as a thank you.

Chelsea:

You'll take it as a that's enough now.

Sean:

Can't wait to show you off. You're going to blow them all away.

Chelsea stared at the last message for a second too long.

She should have shut it down more firmly. But something about his tone made her smirk despite herself.

Saturday morning, the high street was heaving with late shoppers and couples trailing bags. Chelsea stood outside the boutique, arms folded across her chest, eyes narrowed at the mannequins in the window.

"I still think this is a stupid idea," she muttered.

Mark grinned and nudged her forward. "It's a dress, not a death sentence."

"It's not just a dress," she said, tugging her jacket tighter around her. "It's a gala dinner dress. With Sean."

Mark chuckled. "You're not going with Sean. You're going for Sean. With my blessing. Totally different."

Chelsea gave him a dry look. "You say that now. Wait till you see me all dressed up."

Inside, the boutique a helpful assistant handed her an armful of gowns and pointed her toward the changing rooms.

"Be honest," Chelsea warned as she pulled the curtain closed behind her.

"I always am," Mark replied, dropping into the armchair with a smile.

The first dress was sleek and navy. Chelsea stepped out and did a slow turn.

Mark tilted his head. "It's nice but a bit daytime business..."

She smirked. "Thought so."

The second was a Black velvet, strapless, tight fitting. It wrapped her waist. The neckline dipped low and the back was cut daringly low, exposing her shoulder blades and most of her back. Clearly over the top but a lovely dress. Be nice to wear it with Mark for a night out sometime in the future.

Mark let out a low whistle as she stepped out. "Okay wow. That one's... definitely not business formal."

Chelsea turned side-on, studying the shape. "You don't think it's too much?"

Mark stood and came behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You look incredible."

She met his eyes in the mirror. "Just remember--I'll be wearing this when I am with him first, not you."

Mark laughed. "So long as you wear it with me afterwards, it's worth the wait."

Chelsea smiled... but something in her stomach turned.

She smoothed her hands over her hips. "It doesn't hide much."

"Exactly," he grinned.

"And I'll need new underwear. This backless thing means no bra. And you can see everything through the front..."

He smirked. "Sounds like a job for something lacy and black."

Chelsea raised a brow. "You just want me to buy slutty underwear."

Chelsea was quiet on the way home.

Not moody--just... charged. Still riding the buzz of trying on dresses that made her feel sexy and desirable.

The moment the front door clicked shut, Mark had her against the wall.

"You're such a fucking tease," he whispered, hands already tugging her coat off her shoulders.

Chelsea grinned, breath hot against his neck. "You told me to try it on."

"Yeah, and now I'm hard as fuck thinking about you wearing that tomorrow and I am not there to see you."

"Jealous?" she purred, arching against him.

"No. Possessive." He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand, the other sliding straight down her top to cup her breast, fingers rough, urgent. "These tits. Fuck, Chels... you know what that dress did to me."

"Mmm," she moaned, lips parting. "I like it when you get mean."

He shoved her top up, yanked her bra down and latched onto her nipple, sucking hard until she gasped.

"You like that my little dress-up slut?."

"Yes..." she hissed, writhing under his grip. "I want your cock. Fuck me like you really own me."

He lifted her in one brutal motion, carried her to the bedroom, and threw her down on the mattress. She stripped herself, leaving only her stockings on.

Mark was already naked. Hard, thick, leaking at the tip.

Chelsea moaned at the sight. "Get on me. Use me. Fuck your whore."

He didn't hesitate--climbed between her legs, slammed into her pussy in one deep, unforgiving thrust.

She cried out, head back, breasts bouncing as he fucked her. "Oh fuck--*yes*--fuck that tight slutty pussy--"

He bent down, sucking hard on one nipple, then biting. "You love being used, don't you?"

"YES--make me come--fuck my tits, I'm your fucking whore, Mark--"

He pounded her harder, hand gripping her throat lightly, not choking, just claiming. His cock was thick, fast, brutal, hitting deep. Her moans turned guttural.

"I'm gonna fill this pussy," he growled.

"Oh fuck--yes, yes, fill me--I'm your little cumslut--I'll be leaking--fuck, *I'm coming--*"

She exploded beneath him, thrashing, breasts heaving, fingers clawing the sheets.

Mark groaned and came inside her, thick spurts flooding her pussy as he buried himself deep and held her there, grunting.

They collapsed together, sweaty, tangled.

Minutes later, as the sweat cooled, Chelsea's phone buzzed.

**Sean:** *How'd shopping go? What did you buy? ????*

Chelsea smirked. Mark was already half-asleep beside her, arm draped over her hip.

She didn't reply.

Chelsea lay in bed, Mark's arm draped across her waist, his breathing slow and contented.

Her phone still rested on the nightstand, screen dark now, but the message from Sean played on a loop in her mind.

"What did you buy?"

She hadn't answered. But she'd thought about answering. Multiple times. Thought about sending a picture. Thought about the look on his face if she did.

She shifted on the pillow, her nipples still sensitive from earlier, her thighs sticky with his cum. The sex had been wild--he always brought that out in her when she was fired up..

Sean wasn't stupid. He was flirting. Testing boundaries. And she hadn't exactly slammed the door shut.

The following day, Chelsea sat in her glass office.

She'd closed three client briefs by lunchtime and was well ahead of schedule. She was normally very focused but today her mind drifted every ten minutes.

She kept thinking about the dress. The cut. The backless silhouette. How her breasts felt without support beneath velvet.

How she'd bend slightly at the table during dinner... how Sean's eyes might follow the line of her cleavage.

Would he say anything? Would he behave? And why, exactly, did she care?

The night before, she'd laid out her dress, lingerie, makeup, perfume, heels, and toiletries. Mark hadn't once asked what she needed, or what time Sean was collecting her. He hadn't even double-checked the room arrangements or warned Sean to behave. He was too busy planning his golf trip.

He was checked out--thinking about tee times and fairways. It pissed her off more than she wanted to admit.

The following morning, Chelsea stood in her bedroom wearing only a matching green lace bra and thong set--delicate and sheer. The bra gave no real support but made her full breasts look perfectly perky. The thong left her ass mostly bare.

She chose a soft cream-coloured jumper--slouchy and loose, sliding off one shoulder to show a thin bra strap and a tight high-waisted jeans and nude heels.

She added subtle makeup, roughed her brunette waves, and finished with her favourite perfume.

Her phone buzzed at exactly 10:00 a. m.

Sean:

Outside.

Chelsea grabbed her weekender bag, slung her coat over her arm, and gave Mark a quick shout.

"I'm off!"

He stuck his head out of the bathroom, electric toothbrush in hand. "Have fun, babe. Tell Sean I will call him at some stage."

"Yeah. Sure."

No kiss. No second glance. Just foam in his mouth and a towel on his hips.

Chelsea rolled her eyes, slammed the door behind her, and walked out into the cool morning sunshine.

Sean's black sports car was parked at the curb.

He leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. Sunglasses on. A smirk already playing at the corner of his lips.

"Well, fuck me," he said. "You really are the hottest fake girlfriend in history."

Chelsea tossed her bag in the backseat and slid into the car, legs crossed, cleavage just barely peeking out from the loose knit of her jumper.

She gave him a look.

"Watch your mouth, Sean."

But she was smiling as she said it.

Sean's car purred through the traffic Chelsea crossed her legs in the passenger seat, the stretch of her jeans hugging her thighs, the cream jumper slipping off one shoulder. She kept tugging it back up, only for it to slide down again.

He hadn't commented.

Not yet.

Sean was unusually quiet for the first few miles. Just sunglasses, one hand resting on the wheel, the other tapping the gearstick. Calm. Cool. Not a trace of his usual cocky self.

It threw her off.

They settled into comfortable conversation. Soon, Chelsea glanced over at him and asked, "So, why didn't you just bring a real date? You've never exactly been short on women throwing themselves at you."

Sean gave a soft laugh. "I could've, sure. A few girls would've said yes."

"So why me?"

He tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. "Because I needed someone who wouldn't embarrass me. Someone smart. Funny. Someone my boss would actually remember--in a good way."

Chelsea was intrugued.

"And," he added smoothly, "someone who could walk into that room and make every head turn. Someone sexy as hell, with class."

She laughed, cheeks flushing. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I'm not flattering," he said, glancing over. "I'm just telling the truth. You're the only woman I know who could intimidate a CEO and seduce a room at the same time."

She shook her head, but the compliment warmed her. She looked away, smiling.

They drove on. A few minutes later, she asked, "You still seeing that girl from the gym? What was her name... Kelly?"

Sean snorted. "God, no. That fizzled fast. Not exactly my intellectual equal."

Chelsea grinned. "You? Looking for brains now?"

"I always was," he replied. "Just took me a while to realise I should aim higher."

They both laughed.

"What about you?" he asked. "Any near-misses before Mark?"

"Plenty," she said. "But they either bored me, cheated, or didn't know how to handle a woman who talks back."

"I always liked that about you," Sean said. "You never giggled just to be liked. You told me to fuck off in first year."

"You were being a dick."

"I was. And you still wore those little skirts that made me look all the time."

She rolled her eyes. "Pervert."

"Guilty."

They laughed again, and for the first time in years, it felt like old friends catching up.

Sean reached into the console and handed her a small gold foil box.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Welcome gift. Proper boyfriends bring treats."

Inside, a set of chocolate truffles. Expensive. Elegant.

Chelsea popped one in her mouth. "Mmm. Shit. That's good."

"I'm a firm believer that beautiful women deserve sweet things in their mouths."

Chelsea nearly choked. "Jesus, Sean."

"What?" he said innocently. "I meant chocolate."

"You are the worst."

The hotel was modern and stylish.

Chelsea followed Sean to the desk as she wheeled her small weekend case behind her.

"Reservation under Mason," Sean said to the receptionist, flashing that too-easy grin that somehow worked on almost everyone.

Two keycards later, they were in the lift--mirrored walls reflecting their bodies. Chelsea caught sight of herself beside Sean: cream jumper slipping off one shoulder, tight jeans hugging her thighs. She looked relaxed.

The suite was on the fifth floor. Two adjoining rooms with a shared mini-hallway and a thick white door between which was ajar for the moment

Chelsea FaceTimed Mark while unpacking.

He answered on the third ring, already dressed in golf gear, clubhouse noises in the background.

"Hey, babe! Everything okay?"

"All good. Hotel's nice. Rooms are... close." She glanced toward the half-shut door.

"Great, great. We just finished lunch--teeing off soon. Forecast's holding, so we'll get 18 holes in before dark."

Chelsea smiled, "Glad you're having fun."

"You too, yeah? Remember, it's just pretend."

"I know," she said, softer than intended. "Talk later?"

"Yeah, love you!" he said quickly, then hung up.

She stared at the screen a moment, then let it drop onto the bed.

An hour later, changed into something comfy--a soft grey ribbed vest that hugged her chest, no bra beneath, and jogging pants that sat low on her hips--Chelsea stepped onto the shared balcony with a glass of wine in hand.

Sean was already there, sprawled on a deck chair, feet up, shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

He turned as she stepped out.

"Well, fuck me," he said, eyes sweeping over her.

She smirked and dropped into the chair beside him. "This is my lazy look."

"God help the world when you try."

They sipped in silence a moment, enjoying the breeze. Then Sean spoke again.

"So... what's the dress like tonight?"

Chelsea grinned into her glass. "You'll have to wait and see."

Sen then whispers, "Honestly, Mark's a good guy. I gotta say... if I had a fiancée who looked like you, there's no way I'd have said yes to this weekend."

He said it lightly, jokingly--but it landed.

Chelsea arched a brow. "You think he should've said no?"

Sean shrugged. "I just mean... you're hot, Chels. Like, top-tier. A night away with me playing fake boyfriend? You're lucky I respect boundaries."

She smiled slowly. "That's big talk, Mason."

He tilted his head. "I'm just saying--he trusts you a hell of a lot."

She nodded once, then changed the subject. "So, that hypothetical girlfriend you mentioned in the car... What would she actually be like?"

Sean turned his chair toward her. "Physically?" He gave a slow grin. "Curvy. Like, big, soft tits. Hips that make me want to grab on and not let go. Eyes that flirt without trying. Freckles. Legs for days."

Chelsea raised a brow. "That's oddly specific."

"Oh, I'm not done," he said, his voice lowering. "She'd be smart--like, walk-into-a-room-and-own-it smart. Sarcastic. Quick. Makes me laugh. Calls me on my bullshit. But she'd also know when to let go. How to let me have her."

Chelsea stared at him "And no one's come close?" she asked quietly.

Chelsea looked away first, a flush creeping across her chest.

Chelsea stood in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around her body looking at the freckles on her face and shoulders an cleavage. She got her make up and lotions out

She took her time.

A long, slow moisturise worked into her thighs, her breasts, the arch of her back. She smoothed on foundation, blush, a hint of highlighter. Subtle smoky eyes. Deep red lips. It wasn't for Sean, of course. It was the role. The image. The performance.

And still... she thought of him watching her.

She stepped into the black velvet dress with care--naked beneath it. The fabric hugged her breasts, lifting them, no bra required. It clung to her waist and split daringly up one thigh. The back dipped low, teasing the curve of her spine.

She slipped on heels. Added perfume. Fastened earrings.

When she opened the door to the shared hallway, Sean was waiting.

He turned.

And froze.

"Jesus Christ," he murmured.

Chelsea stood there, hand on hip, one brow raised. "That your professional review?"

Sean ran a hand through his hair. "You're going to make this a very hard night for me."

She smirked. "Good."

He stepped closer, eyes sweeping over her. "You didn't tell me the dress had a thigh-high slit."

"You didn't ask."

Sean wolf wjhistled slowly, offering his arm. "Before we go--just a heads up. My colleagues know me... and, well, they know I usually go with public affection. Hand-holding. Touching. Little kisses. Power couple vibes. I'll try and behave--swear I will--but I do have an image to protect."

Chelsea stared at him for a second.

"Is this your way of warning me that you're about to grope me in public?"

He gave an innocent shrug. "Only if you insist"

She laughed, heart fluttering just a little more than it should have.

"You're ridiculous," she said.

"And you're outrageously sexy. So here we are."

She was just about to open the door when he paused.

"Oh--almost forgot," he said casually. "Just so you're fully briefed... this is what I've told everyone about my 'girlfriend'."

Chelsea turned slowly. "Go on..."

"Hot. Loves wild sex. Went all the way on the first date. Loves it outdoors--beaches, restaurants, carparks. Can't get enough of me. Insatiable."

Chelsea choked on air. "You're kidding."

"Just thought it might come up in conversation."

She shook her head, laughing despite herself. "I swear to God, Sean, I am going to kill you before the night is out"

They made their way down to the lobby, arms linked.

Chelsea caught their reflection in the mirrored lift. Her--elegant and sexy. Him--dark suit, undone collar, alpha swagger. She had to admit, they looked... perfect.

As the lift doors opened, Sean leaned in, voice low.

"Remember--if I squeeze your hand, that's code for 'I need saving from awkward work banter.' If I slide my hand down your back... I'm probably just enjoying myself."

"Subtle," she muttered, unable to stop smiling.

They walked into the hotel restaurant and bar, ready to perform.

Except, it didn't feel like performing anymore.

The hotel's ballroom was impressive. Chelsea and Sean stepped in together, her arm looped through his, the slit in her dress flashing just enough leg to catch stares.

Sean leaned down, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "They're all wondering how I pulled you."

Chelsea gave a soft laugh. "keep on flattering."

He guided her to their table, fingers laced through hers. He hadn't let go since they walked in--holding her hand like they'd done it a thousand times. Comfortable. Possessive.

"Smile for the crowd," he murmured. "And remember--wild sex. Beaches. Carparks."

She shot him a warning look.

He just winked.

Introductions began. Sean was making jokes, charming colleagues with that perfect mix of confidence and cockiness.

Chelsea played her part smiling, laughing, nodding in all the right places. But every time she glanced at Sean, he was already looking at her.

He kissed her cheek when she sat.

Called her "darling" when he passed the wine.

Slid a hand onto her lower back and let it linger. Not enough for anyone to notice. Just enough for her to notice and pause.

It was all sweetheart this and darling that.

Chelsea's thoughts swirled. She was playing a role, yes. But there was something about the weight of his hand on hers, the warmth of his thigh brushing hers beneath the table that made her heart beat that much faster.

A colleague across the table leaned forward. "So, Chelsea--how did you two meet?"

Sean didn't miss a beat.

He turned to her, eyes dancing. "You tell them, darling."

She blinked.

"Well," she said, pasting on her best coy smile, "we met through a mutual friend. It was... unexpected. One of those unexpected situations."

"She couldn't keep her hands off me," Sean added, grinning.

By dessert, his hand was fully on her thigh beneath the table.

She should have moved it.

She didn't.

They clinked glasses. Played the part. Flirted shamelessly in front of everyone.

And when the dancing started, Sean stood and extended his hand to her.

"May I have this dance, sweetheart?"

Chelsea looked up at him, heart hammering, skin flushed.

She smiled.

"Yes. You may."

The music shifted to something slower, the kind that invited bodies to move close.

Sean led Chelsea onto the dancefloor, hand at the small of her back, guiding her with ease. The ballroom lights dimmed as he pulled her close--closer than polite--and she let him.

Chelsea's breasts pressed firmly against his chest, the velvet of her dress silky under his palms.

"You've no idea how many times I've imagined this," Sean murmured near her ear.

She smirked, trying to keep it playful. "Really? This exact scenario?"

"More or less," he said, voice lower now. "The music. The dress. Your tits against me..."

She shot him a look. "Romantic."

They moved slowly, swaying to the beat. His body confident. His hand slid just slightly lower, testing, resting just above her ass.

"You're pushing your luck now aren't you?," she whispered.

"Worth it." He said without removing his hand.

They circled once more. He leaned in, voice teasing.

"By the way, I've had three people ask me your measurements."

Chelsea laughed. "of course you have"

"I guess they assume I'd know. Which I should really. I mean... if you were my actual girlfriend..."

He gave her a slow grin. "So? Want to fill me in?"

Chelsea leaned up to whisper, "Use your imagination."

"Oh, I have," he said, eyes burning into hers.

Back at the table, the flirting didn't stop.

Sean's hand was now on her thigh under the table, warm and insistent.

The final slow song drifted through the ballroom.

Sean appeared at Chelsea's side, already reaching for her hand. "Come on. One more."

She hesitated, searching his eyes. "Not sure I'd want Mark seeing this."

Sean's smile was slow, dangerous. "That's exactly why I wouldn't have let you go if you were mine."

Her heart kicked. She didn't answer. Just took his hand.

On the floor, he pulled her close. Her breasts pressed flush against his chest, nipples brushing the fabric of his shirt. His thigh slotted between hers. His hands roamed with ease--like he belonged there.

"I swear, Sean..." she warned.

He leaned in, lips grazing her ear. "You feel incredible. And if this were real? I'd be fucking you in the elevator by now."

She inhaled sharply. "You're such a bastard."

"And you're trembling."

His hands slid down her back, shameless now. He cupped her ass, giving it a slow, firm squeeze.

Chelsea's breath caught. Her skin burned.

"You're lucky there are people watching," she hissed.

"Exactly why I'm doing it," he murmured. "Gotta keep up appearances."

His hand drifted along her ribcage, knuckles brushing the underside of her breast. She glared at him, flustered, breathless.

Then, without warning, he kissed her.

It was slow. Bold. Possessive. No hesitation.

She stiffened for half a second--but it wasn't resistance. It was shock.

Then she kissed him back.

Not for the show.

Not for the role.

But because she wanted to.

His tongue teased hers, and her body melted into his.

Her mind screamed what the fuck are you doing? But her body... didn't care.

Later, the hotel bar was crowded, chairs mostly claimed by half-drunk colleagues.

Sean sat, legs spread lazily, and patted his thigh.

Chelsea gave him a look.

"Nowhere else to sit," he said with mock innocence.

She raised an eyebrow. But sat.

And immediately felt the full, thick pressure of him beneath her.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

He chuckled softly, hands settling on her hips.

"See what you do to me?" he said, low in her ear.

"Stop it," she hissed, blushing as another colleague walked past.

"Smile," he murmured. "They're looking."

Chelsea smiled.

And stayed.

His hand slid over her waist, up her sides, until his thumb grazed the side of her breast.

She froze. But didn't move.

He continued talking to the table--something about marketing strategies--but his palm wandered, fingers splayed over her stomach.

Every motion was electric. She could feel him beneath her, growing harder through the thin fabric of her dress.

"You look," he whispered, lips brushing her ear, "like the most expensive hooker a man could afford."

She choked on her wine, laughing despite herself. "You're fucking awful."

"And you," he said, gripping her hip, "are playing the part like you've done this before."

She rolled her eyes. "Only in your dreams."

"I've had plenty of dreams," he said, grinding subtly up into her. "But nothing like this."

Her pussy throbbed at the contact.

And still, she stayed on his lap.

He whispered again. "If I slid my fingers under this slit right now, would I find you wet for me?"

Chelsea's lips parted--but no words came out.

She didn't need to answer.

He already knew.

The hallway was quiet. Chelsea and Sean walked slowly, hands still linked. Neither said much.

Sean's thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles across her knuckles. His arm brushed hers as they walked side by side. His eyes were on her--often. And every time she looked up, he was already glancing away with a smirk.

They paused outside their rooms.

Sean leaned in and kissed her cheek. Then her jaw. Then just below her ear.

"Still in role?" she asked softly.

He pressed one last kiss to her neck. And Chelsea let him.

"Come in for a nightcap?" he asked.

She hesitated a beat. Then nodded.

His room was dimly lit. He poured whiskey for himself, a small glass of wine for her and they sat together at the foot of his bed.

Shoes off. Chelsea's bare legs crossed, dress slightly riding up. Sean's shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled back, tie gone.

Sean raised his glass. "To the best fake date I've ever had."

Chelsea clinked her glass with his. "Surprisingly... I had a lot of fun."

He looked at her, voice gentler now. "Really?"

She nodded. "You were... kind of charming. When you weren't being an arse."

"That's my brand," he grinned.

She sipped, watching him. "If you ever need a follow-up date... I might just consider it."

His eyes darkened. "Careful. I'll hold you to that."

They sat in silence a moment, legs touching lightly.

Sean turned to her, gaze softer now. "I hope I didn't push too far tonight."

Chelsea's pulse ticked up.

He leaned in, slow. Testing. Mouth close to hers.

"I just... really didn't want it to end."

His lips brushed hers--gentle. Waiting.

Chelsea didn't move.

Didn't stop him.

Their glasses clinked softly on the nightstand as they kissed again.

This time, there was no one to perform for.

Just the two of them.

And the tension that had been building all night.

The kiss deepened as if Sean was afraid to stop in case that would end the evening.

Chelsea felt his fingers trail up her thigh beneath the slit of her dress. She moaned softly into his mouth, her body already melting against his.

His hand slid around to her back, finding the hidden zip. With a slow, deliberate tug, he lowered it, exposing the smooth, freckled skin of her back.

"You are... so fucking sexy," he whispered, trailing kisses from her shoulder inward. "Every inch of you... fucking perfection."

The dress slipped from her completely to the floor. She stood before him in nothing but the lace thong she'd worn underneath, her breasts heavy, nipples peaked, skin flushed.

Sean sat up straighter, eyes feasting on her. "Jesus, Chelsea..."

He reached for her breasts cupping them in both hands, thumbs grazing her erect nipples.

"You have no idea what this does to me," he murmured.

His mouth found her left nipple, sucking, tonguing, then switching to the other. He took his time--kneading, licking, sucking.

Her thoughts scattered. This is insane. This is Sean. But her body no longer cared.

He laid her back gently on the bed, kissing her belly, her hips. His hands trailed down her thighs, then hooked her thong and slid it slowly down, kissing the skin he uncovered.

She was bare now--naked, open, aching.

Sean spread her legs and knelt between them, staring.

"Perfect pussy," he whispered, breath hot against her folds. "Wet for me already."

She gasped as his tongue flicked over her clit--teasing at first, then deeper, firmer. He licked her slowly, savouring her, holding her thighs apart with both hands. His tongue circled, pressed, lapped. He moaned into her sending shocks through her core.

Her hands gripped the sheets. Her hips bucked.

"Oh god--Sean--don't stop--"

He didn't. He licked her until her whole body tensed, back arching, thighs shaking. And when she came, she came hard--crying out, fingers in his hair.

He climbed up, kissing her deeply so she could taste herself on his lips.

Her hands found his belt. She undid it, then his trousers, pulling them down. He stepped out of them, then his boxers, his cock springing free--thick, hard, dripping.

Chelsea sat up, still catching her breath, and looked down at Sean. He was already half-hard again, and she couldn't help but grin.

"I want to taste you," she said, almost shy, but her eyes were hungry.

She wrapped her hand around him, feeling how heavy and hot he was. She gave him a slow stroke, watching his face. He bit his lip, eyes glued to her.

"God, Chels," he muttered, "you don't have to--"

She cut him off by leaning down and pressing a kiss to the tip. "I want to," she said, her voice muffled against his skin.

She licked him, a little clumsy at first, just getting used to the feel of him. He twitched in her hand, and she smiled, a little proud. She opened her mouth and took him in, slow, her lips stretching around him.

Sean groaned, his hand finding her hair. "Fuck, that's good. You look... Jesus, you look amazing."

She glanced up at him, cheeks already flushed. "You're so big," she mumbled, pulling back for a second to catch her breath. "I don't know if I can get all of you in."

He laughed, a little breathless. "Just do what feels good. I'm not complaining."

She grinned, then tried again, taking him deeper this time, her hand stroking what her mouth couldn't reach. She let her tongue swirl around the head, then sucked, a little harder, just to see what he'd do.

Sean's hips jerked, and he let out a shaky laugh. "Fuck, Chels, you're gonna make me lose it."

She pulled off, licking the tip, then looked up at him, her hair a mess. "You like that?"

He nodded, eyes dark. "Yeah. A lot. You're... fuck, you're really good at this."

She giggled, a little embarrassed, then went back down, taking him in again, a little faster now. She moaned softly, the sound vibrating through him, and he groaned, his hand tightening in her hair.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he said, voice rough. "You look so fucking hot right now."

She pulled back again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I want to see you lose control," she said, a little breathless. "I want to make you come."

Sean's eyes widened, and he let out a shaky breath. "You keep going, and you will."

She smiled, then took him in again, her hand and mouth working together, a little messy, a little eager, but all for him. She looked up at him, wanting to see his face, wanting to see what she was doing to him.

He groaned, hips starting to move, not too rough, just enough to meet her mouth. "Fuck, Chels... don't stop. Please."

She didn't. She kept going, loving the way he sounded, the way he looked at her, the way he was falling apart just for her.

When she finally pulled off, she was grinning, a little breathless, a little proud. "Told you I could do it," she said, wiping her mouth again.

Sean just stared at her, chest heaving, a wild look in his eyes. "You're fucking amazing," he said, voice hoarse.

She laughed, crawling back up to kiss him, her body pressed against his. "You bring it out of me," she whispered, and she meant it.

And she believed him. She turned on her back and guided Sean on top of her.

She guided him to her pussy, the head of his cock slick against her opening. He pushed in slowly, filling her inch by inch, stretching her until she gasped.

He paused, buried deep, forehead pressed to hers. "You feel incredible," he breathed.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Fuck me, Sean. I want to feel you everywhere."

He started to move, slow at first, savoring the tight heat of her. He thrust deep, then pulled almost all the way out, teasing her, making her beg. His hands found her breasts again, kneading, squeezing, thumbs circling her nipples.

Chelsea moaned, arching into his touch. "Harder," she pleaded. "Please--"

He obliged, hips snapping forward, cock driving deep. He fucked her hard, relentless, his hands never leaving her breasts. He bent down, sucking a nipple into his mouth, biting gently, then switching to the other.

She was lost, drowning in sensation--his cock filling her, his mouth on her breasts, his hands everywhere. She clawed at his back, urging him on, her own pleasure building again.

He reached between them, thumb finding her clit, rubbing tight circles as he fucked her. "Come for me again," he growled. "I want to feel you squeeze my cock."

She did--her orgasm crashing over her, pussy clenching around him, breasts pressed to his mouth. She screamed his name, body shaking, and he followed, thrusting deep, spilling inside her with a guttural moan.

They collapsed together, sweaty and tangled, his head resting on her chest, her fingers stroking his hair.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Just the sound of their breathing, the thud of their hearts.

Finally, Sean looked up, a lazy grin on his lips. "I guess you will do."

He kissed her again, slow and sweet, hands still cupping her breasts, as if he couldn't bear to let go.

And for the first time in a long time, Chelsea felt wanted, worshipped, and utterly alive.

For a long moment, Chelsea lay there contented. Her head rested on Sean's shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing circles on her bare back.

Neither of them rushed to speak. There was something sacred in the quiet.

Sean broke it first, his voice a low murmur. "That... was something else."

Chelsea let out a breath, half-laugh, half-sigh. "I think we left 'pretending' behind a while ago."

He turned his head, brushing his lips against her temple. "I don't think I've ever wanted someone the way I wanted you tonight."

Her hand slid down his chest, then lower, casually curling around his softening cock. He twitched under her fingers, half-hard already.

She chuckled.

"I shouldn't say this," she said softly, "but... wow. You're so much bigger than I'm used to."

Sean's grin was obvious "Should I pretend to be surprised?"

Her fingers explored him, wrapping around the base, then sliding up to the tip. "No. You know exactly what you're working with."

He groaned as she stroked him, her thumb circling the head, smearing the bead of moisture there. "You like it?" he asked, voice rough.

Chelsea's cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away. "I love it. God, Sean... I can barely get my hand around you."

He reached up, cupping her breast, thumb brushing her nipple. "Bet you can take it, though. You're a good girl, aren't you? He leaned in and kissed the curve, then sucked softly until a small purple bloom appeared.

Chelsea gasped. "Sean!"

"What?" he said, eyes gleaming.

She looked down at the hickey. "How the hell am I supposed to explain *that*?"

He kissed the other one. Slower this time. "Tell Mark it's a stress rash."

She swatted his chest but was laughing too hard to sound convincing.

Sean's fingers trailed down her side, resting on her hip. Chelsea's leg slid across his, the edge of her thigh brushing against his hardening cock.

Their faces were close. Breaths warm. Kisses gentle.

She kissed him again slow and full.

His hands wandered back to her breasts, fondling them with a mixture of awe and hunger.

Chelsea whispered between kisses. "This was supposed to be fake."

Sean whispered back. "Tell me you regret it."

She didn't.

She couldn't.

And slowly, as their bodies pressed together again, hunger returned to their eyes.

Chelsea's hand slid down Sean's stomach, fingers curling once more around his thickening cock. She stroked him, slow and deliberate, feeling him grow harder in her grip.

Sean groaned, nuzzling her hair. "My kind of girl, ready to go again," he murmured, a smile in his voice.

She kissed his neck, lips brushing his skin. "I can't help it. You make me feel... different."

He pulled back just enough to look at her, searching her face. "Different how?"

Chelsea hesitated, then smiled, a little shy. "Mark's always so careful. Gentle. Like he's afraid I'll break."

Sean's eyes darkened, his hand sliding up to cup her breast. "And you want more than gentle?"

She nodded, her breath quickening. "I want to feel you. All of you. I thought you'd be rougher... especially with a monster like this between your legs."

Sean's lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin. "Oh yeah?"

She met his gaze, eyes burning. "I want to be used. Treat me like your slut tonight."

That was all the invitation he needed.

His mouth was on her breasts instantly--sucking, biting, kneading them with both hands. "Fucking love these tits," he snarled. "So soft... so fucking big. They bounce like a dream."

Chelsea arched beneath him, moaning. "They're yours. Use them."

He slapped one, then sucked it hard, leaving her gasping.

Jesus, you're such a filthy whore," he said, sliding down between her legs. "You want me to fuck you like a goddamn hooker?"

She grinned wickedly, propping herself up on her elbows. "Only if you can afford me."

Sean reached for his wallet on the nightstand. He fumbled it open, pulled out a crumpled note, and tossed it onto her stomach. "There. That's all I've got. Hope you're worth it."

Chelsea picked up the note. "Not even enough for a tip," she teased.

He crawled up over her grinning. "You better make it worth every penny, slut."

She laughed, tossing the note aside. "One night only, baby. No refunds."

Sean leaned in, his mouth close to her ear. "You gonna give me the full service, then?"

She bit her lip, playing along, her voice low and dirty. "Depends what you want, sir. I do charge extra for anything... special."

He laughed, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. "I want it all. Every filthy thing you've got. Show me what I'm paying for."

She arched her back, pressing her breasts up to him. "I don't do freebies.... Watch your little whore take every inch."

He slammed into her, hard and deep, and she cried out, the sound half-laugh, half-moan. "God, yes--fuck me, Sean. Use me. Make me your dirty little hooker."

He shoved her legs open and slammed his cock into her wet pussy --deep, hard, relentless.

Chelsea's breath came in ragged gasps. "Oh my god... you're so deep. I can feel you everywhere."

Sean grinned against her breast, thrusting slowly, letting her adjust to his size. "You feel incredible, Chels. So fucking tight around me. Mark has no idea what he's missing."

She whimpered, her hands clutching his shoulders. "Don't stop. Please, don't ever stop."

She screamed his name, nails scratching his back.

"Fuck, Sean--yes--harder!"

He pounded her, hips slamming into her thighs, hands pinning her wrists above her head. "Take it, slut. Take every inch of this cock."

"I love your cock," she moaned. "Stretch me--fill me--make me cum all over it!"

He bent down, kissing her hard. His mouth claimed hers. His hands returned to her breasts--pulling, sucking, biting.

"You're such a good little whore," he growled. "Taking it so deep."

She met his thrusts eagerly. "I'm your fucking slut, Sean. Use me."

He flipped her onto all fours, yanked her hips back, and entered her again--this time rougher, faster. Chelsea moaned, filthy and raw.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned. "So tight. So wet. You were made to be fucked like this."

"Don't stop," she cried. "Fill my slutty pussy, make me yours!"

He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back as he slammed into her. "You're mine tonight. My hooker. My fucktoy. Say it."

"I'm your fucktoy," she gasped. "Your personal whore--fuck me, Sean, fuck me harder"

He came loudly holding her hips as he filled her.

Chelsea collapsed onto the bed, panting, aching in all the best ways.

Sean lay beside her, pulling her into his arms.

Neither of them said a word for a moment.

Then Chelsea smirked.

"Worth every penny."

Sean laughed, breathless.

"Best money I've ever spent."

Sean lay next to her, Neither of them moved.

Chelsea's body felt raw, exposed and she felt exhausted.

Sean rolled onto his side brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek, his touch suddenly gentle "You okay?" he asked softly

She nodded a smile. "Yeah. More than okay."

He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then finally her lips. Gone was the cocky bravado as his hands moved over her body with tenderness.

He pulled the covers up over them, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close, his fingers making circles on her back. "You're amazing, you know that?" in a sincere tone.

Chelsea let herself melt into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand splayed over his heart.

He held her tighter, their bodies fitting together perfectly beneath the sheets. And as she drifted toward sleep, Chelsea reflected on the wildest sex she had ever experienced.

Chelsea lay naked beneath the hotel sheets, daylight coming through the curtains. Her thighs were sticky, her breasts sore from his mouth, her neck marked. She felt everything. And yet, it wasn't just the physical ache that kept her awake.

It was the guilt.

Mark.

She closed her eyes, biting her lip. She'd crossed every line last night. Lied. Cheated. Betrayed. And yet... she had never felt more alive.

She shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. But the sheets rustled and Sean stirred beside her as the duvet slipped from his waist, revealing his morning erection.

Chelsea's breath caught.

God. He was hard. Thick, full, beautiful.

And just like that, her guilt twisted into desire.

Sean blinked awake, eyes lazy, then focused. His grin was slow. "Morning, gorgeous."

Chelsea didn't speak. She reached beneath the sheets, fingers curling gently around his cock. It twitched in her hand.

"Mmm," he murmured. "Someone's ready to sin again."

She slid down the bed, her lips brushing the base of his shaft, then moving slowly up the length. But Sean pulled her back to him.

"No," he said, voice hoarse. "I want to kiss you."

Their lips met--slow, sensual, hungry. His hands explored her body with aching familiarity. Her breasts filled his palms. He groaned.

"These tits," he whispered. "So fucking perfect. My big-titted princess."

Chelsea moaned as he rolled on top of her, sliding between her legs, not entering yet--just grinding, teasing.

"You're soaked already," he growled. "You love this. Being used. Being fucked like a slut."

She wrapped her legs around him. "I want your cock," she panted. "I need it. I'm your whore, Sean. Use me."

He entered her slowly, deliberately. Their eyes locked.

"Tell me," he demanded. "Tell me I'm better than Mark."

Chelsea gasped. "You are--oh fuck--you're bigger, rougher--fuck me harder!"

He grinned savagely. "That's right. Moan for me, whore. Let him hear how a real man fucks."

The pace quickened. His hands tangled in her hair. He bit her lip, then her shoulder. Her nails raked down his back.

"I love this pussy," he growled. "So fucking tight. You were made to be my fucktoy."

She screamed as her orgasm hit, back arched, legs shaking.

Sean wasn't far behind--he slammed into her with brutal force, grunting as he came deep inside.

They collapsed together, bodies slick, hearts racing.

Chelsea stared at the ceiling, dizzy.

And still--she didn't regret it.

Later that morning, Chelsea stood at the mirror, brushing out her hair, bruises peeking out just beneath the neckline of her blouse. She ran a dab of concealer along the curve of her breast where Sean had sucked a mark deep into her skin

Behind her, Sean zipped up his bag and gave her ass a cheeky pat. "You look edible."

She shot him a look in the mirror. "You're not helping."

He came up behind her, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "You didn't seem to mind last night."

She rolled her eyes but didn't move away.

They made their way down to the hotel's breakfast lounge. As they entered, one of Sean's colleagues spotted them. "There they are! Morning, lovebirds!"

Chelsea smiled and squeezed Sean's hand without even thinking. It felt oddly natural now--leaning into him, kissing his cheek, brushing her hand over his chest like she'd done it a hundred times.

After breakfast, as they packed their bags upstairs, Sean caught her around the waist and pulled her in again.

"Don't think I'm letting you out of this room without another kiss."

He pressed his lips to hers, slow and lingering, hands gliding up her sides to brush under her top.

"Sean," she murmured, swatting him. "You've already marked me enough."

He grinned, eyes dark. "You love it."

The drive home was quieter than expected. Music low, road stretching ahead.

Chelsea stared out the window, head against the glass. Her body still buzzed. Her heart was heavier.

Sean's hand rested lightly on her thigh, thumb brushing lazy circles.

Neither spoke for a long time.

It wasn't regret. Not exactly.

Two streets before her apartment, Sean pulled the car over.

He reached over, his hand finding her thigh again, squeezing gently. "You know, I keep replaying last night in my head," he said. "I can't stop thinking about you. About how you felt. How you sounded. I've never had a night like that, Chelsea. Not with anyone."

She looked at him, not sure whether she was excited or nervous. "You're not supposed to say things like that," she whispered, but she didn't pull away.

Sean's hand slid up, cupping her breast through her coat, thumb brushing her nipple. "I mean it. I know you're with Mark, but... I can't help it. I keep thinking about how you looked when you came for me. How you let go. You were wild, Chels. I don't think he's ever seen you like that."

She bit her lip, her hand drifting into his lap, fingers curling around his cock, already thickening under her touch. "He hasn't," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Not like that. Not even close."

Sean grinned, "I could tell. You needed it. Needed someone to really fuck you. To make you feel everything."

She squeezed him, her breath coming faster. "You did. God, Sean... you made me feel things I didn't even know I wanted."

He leaned in, kissing her--slow, deep, hungry. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. "I want to do it again. All of it. I want to see you lose control for me. Not for him. For me."

Chelsea hesitated, her heart pounding, guilt and desire tangling inside her. She didn't say yes. But she didn't say no, either. Instead, she kissed him again, her hand still wrapped around him, her body already aching for more.

Sean groaned, his voice rough. "Say you'll think about it."

She smiled, lips brushing his. "I'll think about it."