The Billionaire's Fake Bride

Chapter Three

Mason's POV

I gritted my teeth, stifling a groan of frustration as my mother rambled on again about "meeting the right one," settling down, and giving her grandchildren.

"It is very important that you get a wife. You're not getting any younger and I need to carry my grandchildren before I die," she said, her tone dripping with melodrama.

I cursed inwardly. *Not this again.*

"That isn’t important right now, and you are definitely not dying anytime soon," I replied, sighing as I fought the urge to rub my temples.

"How are you so sure?" My mother sighed dramatically, touching her face as if inspecting invisible flaws. "My face is turning all messy and wrinkled from incoming old age. *Sighs*, what to do?"

I barely held back an eye roll. Her face was as flawless as it had been in her twenties. What wrinkles was she even talking about?

The lecture dragged on for what felt like an eternity before I finally muttered an excuse and bolted for the door. The moment I stepped outside, I inhaled sharply, the cool air a temporary relief. I slid into my car, my mum rushed out and shouted " gat back here, we're not done talking" and I shouted back "love you too mum" ,ignited the engine, and sped away .

Forty sighs. That’s how many times I’d exhaled in frustration since lunch began. And I *never* sighed.

---

The road stretched before me, My grip tightened on the steering wheel as my mother’s words echoed in my mind.

*"The right one..."*

A bitter laugh escaped me. *The right one?* There was no such thing. Love was a carefully constructed illusion, a trap disguised as warmth. I’d seen it firsthand—the way my mother had been broken, her spirit shattered by a man who’d promised her forever and delivered nothing but scars.

The memories surged—her bruised face, the hollow look in her eyes, the way she’d whispered apologies for things that weren’t her fault. My jaw clenched.

*"Family and the right one? There’s no such thing."* That's all bullshit.

The moment you let someone in, they became your morning sunshine, your peace… until they weren’t. Until they became your worst nightmare. Let someone in and they will become your anchor; until they pull you under.

The thought ignited a fire in my chest, my knuckles whitening around the steering wheel.

Then—

***THUD.***

My heart stopped.

The car lurched violently, the sickening sound of impact reverberating through my bones. I slammed the brakes, but it was already too late.

Through the windshield, I saw a figure of a woman tumbling through the air before collapsing onto the pavement.

*s**t s**t s**t *

I threw the door open and sprinted toward her, my pulse roaring in my ears.

She lay motionless, a pool of crimson spreading beneath her. The rise and fall of her chest was faint, too faint.

Panic clawed at my throat as I scooped her into my arms, her blood staining my sleeves. My mind raced.

*This can’t be happening.*

The last thing I needed was a scandal ; blood on my hands, a life hanging in the balance. My company’s reputation, my *own* reputation, would be ruined.

I drove off with her lying limp across the back seat, her blood smearing the leather. My hands shook around the steering wheel, heart pounding louder than the roaring engine.

When we finally reached the hospital, I didn’t wait. I quickly opened the door and scooped her into my arms. Her head dangled against my chest, lifeless, her blood soaking through my shirt. I didn’t care.

It was midnight. Thank God the emergency entrance wasn’t crowded.

" I need help!” I shouted, bursting through the hospital doors.

A doctor and a team of nurses rushed towards me, one of them already wheeling a stretcher. “What happened?” one asked urgently.

“She was in a car accident ,” I said, my voice raw.

"Mr Voss would you like us to take her to the VIP ward?" the doctor asked me “yeah take her to the VIP ward,” I replied. The doctor didn’t say anything, he only nodded and carefully helped lay her on the stretcher. I watched as they wheeled her into the ward on the stretcher.

I was forced to wait.

The silence of the hospital corridor was deafening. I sat with my elbows on my knees, staring at my hands; her blood had dried in the creases of my fingers.

Minutes passed. Or hours. I didn’t know.

Then finally, the doctor walked out.

I shot to my feet. “Is she alive?”

He gave me a small, tight smile. “She suffered a few injuries, limbs broken, but it’s the head trauma that’s concerning. She’s unconscious. We’ll need to wait and see when she wakes up.”

I exhaled. The pressure in my chest loosened. At least she wasn’t dead.

I stepped closer to the doctor, my tone turning cold. “By the way... I don’t want a word of this leaking out. Tell your nurses the same. Or they’ll be job hunting tomorrow.”

His face paled. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

I turned and left the hospital.

When I got home, I stripped out of the blood-soaked clothes and headed straight for the shower. I stood under the hot stream for what felt like hours, watching crimson swirl into the drain, my thoughts a storm of guilt and fury.

After drying off, I walked into my closet. My fingers brushed against the silk and wool of my tailored suits, searching for something suitable for the night.

Then, I saw it.

Through my corner of my eyes, the damned blood-red shirt. My lip curled in disgust. Without hesitation, I tapped the command bell on the wall, its sharp chime slicing through the silence.

Within seconds, a maid appeared in the doorway, her uniform crisp, her posture submissive. “Yes, Mr. Voss?” she murmured, eyes downcast.

“Thrash this,” I commanded, gesturing to the offending garment. She moved swiftly, gathering the shirt with delicate fingers, as if touching it might stain her. “Yes, sir,” she whispered before turning to leave.

But she didn’t.

I turned back to my closet, selecting a black singlet and black sweatpant, when I realized she hadn’t moved an inch.

Still, she lingered.

When I turned to face her fully, I noticed the flush of crimson staining her cheeks. Her breath was shallow, her fingers trembling where they clutched the fabric of her skirt. Then, without warning, she grasped a fistful of her own hair, tugging sharply as she bit her plush lower lip. Her chest heaved, the curves of her body straining against the confines of her uniform as she leaned forward.

“Mr. Voss,” she purred, her voice dripping with saccharine seduction, “is there anything else I can do for you?”

The air between us crackled with unspoken tension. Her boldness was either stupidity or desperation; perhaps both. My gaze darkened as I studied her, the silence stretching out between us.

Then, I replied with a slow, deliberate smirk.

Her uniform, already strained, gave way as another button popped open, sending her full breasts spilling free. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, and the cool air or perhaps anticipation had drawn her n*****s into tight, pebbled peaks.

I smirked. Under different circumstances, I might have enjoyed the sight of her like this; her body eager, her lips parted in submission. The thought of her bouncing in my lap, or those plush breasts pressed on me, flickered through my mind. But tonight, I wasn’t in the mood for games.

**"Kneel."**

The command left no room for hesitation. She dropped instantly, her knees hitting the cold tiles with a soft thud. Her eyes, wide and dark with desire, locked onto mine, waiting. A faint tremor ran through her; nerves or excitement, I couldn’t tell.

I untied the towel at my waist, letting it fall to the bed behind me. Her gaze flickered downward, her lips parting further as she took me in.

**"Suck."**

She didn’t need to be told twice. Her fingers wrapped around my length, warm and tentative at first, before she guided me into her mouth. A soft moan vibrated against me as she took me deeper, her tongue swirling expertly around the tip before sinking down again. Her rhythm was slow at first, teasing, as if testing my patience.

I tangled my fingers in her hair, tightening my grip just enough to make her whimper. **"Faster."**

She obeyed, her movements growing more urgent, her lips sealing tighter as she worked me with practiced devotion. The wet heat of her mouth, the flick of her tongue; every sensation was deliberate.

But I wasn’t the kind of man who came undone so easily.

With a sharp tug, I pulled her back, her lips leaving me with a loud *pop*. A string of saliva still connected us as she panted, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glazed with lust.

**"Good ,"** I murmured, thumb tracing her swollen lower lip. **"But we’re far from finished."**

Her breath hitched.

And then I showed her exactly what I meant.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as I tilted her head back, my fingers tangled roughly on her hair. I pressed my d**k further into her mouth. She gagged, her body jerking in surprise, but I didn’t relent. The wet, choked sounds she made only spurred me on.

Tears welled in her eyes, glistening under the dim light before spilling down her flushed cheeks. Drool dripped from the corner of her swollen lips, her body trembling as she struggled to keep up with my rough pace. "You like that don't you?"

She moaned in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through me. But I wasn’t done with her yet.

With a sharp tug, I wrenched her away, her lips parting from mine with a loud gasp. Before she could recover, I dragged her up by her hair and spun her around, slamming her palms against the wall. Her back arched, her body pliant beneath my touch as I positioned myself behind her.

Then I took her; Hard.

She cried out as I buried myself in her swollen p***y. My grip on her hair tightened, forcing her head back as I set a brutal rhythm. Every thrust drew another broken sound from her lips; pleasure, desperation; both blending into a symphony that only fueled my hunger.

Her body clenched around me, hot and tight, as if begging for release. But I wasn’t ready to give it to her. Not yet.

With a final, punishing thrust, I pulled out, ignoring her keening whine of protest. I forced her back onto her knees, her tear-streaked face looking up at me with a mix of defiance and need.

**"Open."**

She obeyed without hesitation. I thrusted into her mouth once again. I picked up the pace, each thrust pressing deeper until I felt the tip of my c**k hit the back of her throat. The tension coiled tight in my core, and with a low groan, I came; spurting hot into her mouth as she swallowed every drop without hesitation.

After coming down from my high, I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my waist. " Get out" I said coldly. "What" she replied looking confused. She tried running her fingers on my chest but I grabbed her wrist and and pushed her away and said "take that shirt and get the f**k out !!!!". And she hurriedly scurried away with her shaky legs in panick, shutting the door behind her