After that night, Chase never left.
Lucien didn't give him a choice- and Chase didn't want one. The penthouse became his world. His new closet overflowed with silk lingerie, high heels skirts tighter than reason, and bikinis more revealing than ever. His name was whispered across social media as the mystery beauty always on Lucien Vale's arm.
Paparazzi caught them leaving cars walking red carpets, sipping champagne in Monaco, kissing in Paris. They were stunning together. Lucien in tailored black suits, sharp jaw and colder eyes, always with a hand on Chase's lower back or thigh. And Chase, in lacy two-pieces disguised as dresses, waist pinched tight, lips glossy, eyes fluttering behind thick lashes as cameras snapped.
They never labeled it.
But everyone knew.
Lucien's wife.
He took Chase everywhere. To meetings to auctions, to galas. People whispered 'He's obsessed.' And they were right.
But what no one saw was what happened the second the front door closed behind them.
The moment the suits came off.
When Chase sank to his knees without a word, hands already stroking up Lucien's thighs. When Lucien bent him over the dining table still wearing diamonds and heels. When Lucien growled "good girl" into his ear while pounding him into the mattress until the sheets were soaked and the city lights flickered like candles.
Chase didn't just love him.
He craved him. His hands. His voice. His obsession.
And Lucien? He didn't go a single day without touching his pretty wife. Every morning began with cockwarming on his lap while reading emails. Every lunch break ended with Chase bent over the desk thighs trembling, wrists pinned. Every night, Lucien buried himself inside until Chase was dripping and dazed, cock leaking, voice hoarse from moaning.
"You're my perfect little wife." Lucien would whisper, trailing kisses along his back, "And no one will ever have you but me."
Sometimes he made Chase ride him in the limo, high heels bouncing while the driver pretended not to hear the cries.
Sometimes he woke him in the middle of the night, hard again, whispering, "Turn over, baby. I need you."
And Chase always obeyed.
Because he loved Lucien.
Even if he was too rough. Too obsessed. Too insatiable.
They had their own twisted vows. Not spoken at a wedding- but through every bruising kiss, every cry against the penthouse window, every orgasm that ended with Lucien's hand stroking Chase's hair and whispering "Mine."
And Chase? He wouldn't change a thing.
He was loved. Worshipped. Fucked breathless and spoiled rotten.
He was the billionaire's wife.
And he was never, ever leaving.
They smiled for the cameras, fingers interlocked like it was scripted. Chase's hips swayed in his glittery pink gown- bare-backed, tight-waisted, daringly slit to the thigh. Lucien's arm was always around him, always low, always claiming.
Onlookers saw perfection. Romance. Power couple vibes.
No one saw the way Lucien leaned down just before every photo and murmured filth into Chase's ear.
"No panties? That's my good girl."
"Smile for them, baby. I'm going to fuck that expression off your face later."
"You're dripping down your thighs right now, aren't you?"
Chase always blushed and smiled brighter.
Because he was.
Every red carpet was foreplay. Every evening ended with Chase dragged into the back of the limo, heels still on, legs over Lucien's shoulders while the billionaire growled, "Hold it in. We're not even home yet."
And once they were?
Lucien didn't even wait for the bedroom.
The front door would barely shut before Chase was slammed against it, dress yanked up, lipstick smeared by a rough kiss. Lucien would drop to his knees, lift one trembling leg over his shoulder, and eat his pretty little wife out until he sobbed against the wood paneling.
"Your hole's twitching," Lucien would groan. "It missed me?"
Chase couldn't answer. Could only nod whimpering.
Lucien never let him go untouched. At night, Chase slept with a plug inside- tight and warm- just so Lucien could pull it out slowly in the morning and slide in with a low moan.
"Mm. Still warm from last night."
Sometimes, Lucien took business calls with Chase on all fours beside his chair choking softly on his cock, eyes wet and eager.
Other times, he knotted Chase's wrists in silk ties and edged him for hours while whispering, "You don't come until I say sweetheart."
Chase loved it.
The leash. The collars. The bruises Lucien kissed after. The way he was treated like a treasure in public but wrecked like a slut at home.
It was love.
Twisted. Obsessive. Devoted.
Lucien even had a private room built for them. Velvet walls. Gold-framed mirrors. A throne- like chair for Lucien to sit in while Chase danced in heels, hands above his head, cock stiff and leaking as he twirled in lingerie.
"God, look at you," Lucien would whisper. "A perfect little wife. So good for me. So filthy."
Sometimes. he wouldn't even undress Chase. He'd fuck him through the lace and pearls, pinning him against the mirror saying, "I want you to see how pretty you look when I take you."
And Chase? He did.
He watched his own face crumble in pleasure every time Lucien rammed in deep. Every time the belt came off. Every time Lucien licked tears off his cheeks and told him, "No one will ever fuck you like I do."'
And it was true.
Lucien was addicting.
Rough and tender. Demanding and gentle. He whispered, "I love you, baby," while pinning him by the throat. He held him after every round, rubbing his hips and kissing his temples.
They were filthy.
But in love.
Always.
To the world, they were flawless.
Lucien Vale, billionaire mogul, always poised in his black-on-black suits, jaw sharp, voice commanding. And beside him? Chase- the elegant mystery, dressed like a dream, with soft waves to his shoulder-length hair, glossy lips, a delicate waist that turned every head, and eyes only for Lucien.
They were photographed at every gala, every rooftop launch, every Paris afterparty. Chase knew how to pose, how to look just scandalous enough- bare back, a slit flashing thigh, a whisper of silk teasing a nipple beneath sheer fabric.
But never too much.
They were tasteful.
Powerful.
Enviable.
Lucien would rest a hand low on Chase's spine or feed him from his plate during candlelit charity dinners. He'd whisper into his ear, make him laugh softly behind jeweled fingers. People sighed and said "They're the definition of love."
And they were.
But not in the way anyone imagined.
Because the moment they got home, the façade cracked like glass.
Lucien didn't help Chase out of his dress- he yanked it up, dragged the boy over the kitchen counter, and pulled the plug out with a wet pop.
Chase would gasp, legs quivering, already leaking down his thigh.
"You smiled at that waiter too long," Lucien would growl, fingers curling into his hip. "You want attention, baby? I'l give you some."
He fucked him right there- no warm-up, no mercy- still in his heels, jewelry dangling against marble, hair twisted in Lucien's fist as he moaned like a good little wife.
Chase went from high-society angel to cockdrunk low.
It was a rhythm now.
Public: graceful, poised, ethereal.
Private: bent over the dining table moaning, fingers clawing at sheets.
Lucien had him trained. During parties Chase knew not to sit unless Lucien allowed. Knew to cross his legs just so, knew not to speak unless Lucien looked at him. It wasn't because he wasn't valued- it was because Lucien owned him, and Chase loved it.
He wore vibrating plugs to brunch. Thin silk panties to meetings. He sat on Lucien's lap during late-night strategy calls, cock tenting under his dress while Lucien whispered, "Stay quiet. I'm almost done. Then l'll use you."
And he did.
God, he did.
There were days Chase didn't even leave the penthouse because he physically couldn't. His hole was too sore. His legs too wobbly. Lucien had spent the entire night between his thighs, fucking him in every position, forcing him to ride until the sheets were soaked and his voice was gone.
But the next evening, Chase would show up in public again- flawless, glowing perfect- and people would say,
"He's so lucky to be loved like that."
And he was.
Because Lucien didn't just love him.
He worshipped him.
Through ruined stockings, through diamond collars, through silent breakfasts where Chase sat on his thick cock, cheeks flushed, and Lucien read the paper like nothing was out of place.
Every look meant "you're mine."
Every touch meant "I remember what you looked like with your legs up and my cum dripping out of you."
And Chase loved it.
The secret. The shame. The worship.
Because he wasn't just Lucien's wife.
He was his addiction.
The penthouse was quiet.
Chase hummed to himself as he padded barefoot through the marble hall, the soft justle of his white satin robe whispering against his thighs. The nightgown clung to his skin like water- thin straps, a subtle v-neck, no bra. Not overtly slutty- just soft romantic, sensual. The kind of thing a devoted, spoiled little wife wore for himself, not the world.
He carried a crystal tray in his hands. Sliced fruits- carefully arranged: juicy mangoes, delicate melon cubes, a few grapes at the center, all chilled just right.
He'd even added a little mint.
Lucien had been in his home office for over an hour. Chase didn't care what it was- conference, meeting, business emergency. His man hadn't eaten. And Chase took care of his man.
He pushed the door open without knocking.
Copied to clipboard
Lucien sat in the massive leather chair sleeves rolled, tie loosened, hair tousled from running his fingers through it too many times. He was facing his sleek black laptop, eyes locked on the screen.
He looked stressed.
Until he saw Chase.
Lucien's gaze snapped up- hungry, alert- and then slightly panicked
"Chase- wait- baby-"
Too late.
Chase walked in, barefoot and smiling, his soft white nightdress shining under the warm office lights. He didn't even glance at the screen. Just floated over and placed the tray on the desk.
"I cut these for you," he said sweetly. "You didn't eat anything again, did you?"
Lucien's board of directors- at least six of
them- sat silent in little windows across the video call. None of them said a word. But their expressions? Frozen. Some looked away, others stared too long.
Because Chase wasn't just in a nightdress.
He was stunning. That robe hugged his waist. His chest bounced lightly with each step. His thighs peeked out through the slit at the side. And the way he moved- confident, loving, oblivious- was devastating.
Lucien cleared his throat. "Baby, I'm- on a call."
Chase blinked, finally glancing at the screen.
"Oh."
A soft pink spread across his cheeks.
But he didn't leave.
Instead, he smiled politely at the camera then turned back to Lucien. "Okay. But I'm still feeding you."
Lucien stared at him, tense. "You really-"
Chase sat down right in his lap, wriggling a little to get comfortable. His nightdress slid up his thighs, cool skin pressed against Lucien's slacks. Lucien's hand instinctively g rabbed his waist- out of sight of the camera.
Chase picked up a piece of melon with the gold fork and held it to Lucien's lips.
Lucien hesitated... then opened his mouth and let Chase feed him.
"Good boy," Chase whispered.
Lucien's fingers dug into his waist.
On-screen, someone coughed. Another voice muttered something like, "I believe that concludes the market projections.."
Lucien said nothing. His jaw was tight, but his eyes never left Chase. He looked wrecked already- and Chase was just getting started.
He fed him a grape next.
Then a slice of mango.
He leaned close, lips brushing Lucien's jaw as he whispered, "I didn't wear anything underneath."
Lucien's breath hitched. His grip on Chase's hip turned punishing.
"Baby," he growled, so quietly only Chase could hear, "you're making me hard in the middle of a live call."
"I know," Chase whispered. "You were stressed. I'm just helping."
Lucien's jaw clenched. Chase shifted slightly in his lap, pretending not to notice the very clear bulge growing beneath him.
The board began wrapping up. Lucien gave one-word responses. He never looked away from Chase.
By the time the call ended, his hand had slid up to Chase's chest, fingers teasing the edge of the silk strap. His other hand stayed on that perfect waist- possessive, twitching.
The moment the screen went black, Lucien spoke, voice gravel-low.
"Get on your knees."
Chase giggled.
Then obeyed.
Lucien didn't even rise from his chair. He leaned forward slowly, elbows on his thighs, staring down at Chase like a man starved.
Chase knelt between his legs, the hem of his white satin nightdress pooling on the polished floor. His hands rested lightly on Lucien's knees, lips parted, eyes wide, cheeks flushed from the thrill of being seen - almost seen- by the whole damn boardroom.
"You have no idea what you just did," Lucien growled, fingers threading through Chase's hair, gripping tight at the roots.
Chase blinked up, lashes fluttering. "I just fed you."
"You just made me sit through a thirty-minute call with a hard-on, acting like the good little housewife in your fuck-me dress." Lucien leaned down, voice dark silk. "You wanted to drive me insane."
Chase smiled. "I wanted your attention."
"Oh, baby," Lucien chuckled low, dangerous, "You have it."
He stood, towering, forcing Chase back slightly. His belt came undone with a soft hiss, the button popped, zipper down. His cock sprang free- thick, heavy, flushed dark at the tip. Already wet. Already aching.
"Open your mouth."
Chase obeyed instantly.
Lucien guided himself in slow- just the tip at first, teasing- then shoved deeper. Chase gagged, drooled, grabbed at his thighs, but Lucien held his head still rocking gently into that sweet little mouth.
"You look so good like this," Lucien rasped. "Down where you belong."
He pulled out with a wet pop, then grabbed Chase under the arms and dragged him up- turning him and bending him over the desk in one motion.
Papers scattered. The tray of fruit clattered to the side.
Chase gasped, bracing himself as Lucien kicked his legs apart.
"You wore this for me," Lucien growled, dragging a hand up the back of the nightdress, exposing the curve of Chase's ass, the dip of his lower back. "No panties. No shame. Just silk and that needy little hole."
He spat down between Chase's cheeks fingers spreading him wide. Chase moaned, arching, heels kicking slightly as Lucien lined up again.
Then he slammed in.
Chase screamed, body jolting forward head down against the wood, one hand reaching back to grip Lucien's wrist.
"You wanted attention?" Lucien hissed against his ear, bending over him, chest flush to his back. "Here it is."
He fucked him hard, furious, fingers gripping Chase's throat from behind while the other hand flattened over his belly dragging him back into every brutal thrust.
The desk creaked beneath them.
Chase sobbed, mouth open, eyes rolling.
"You think you can walk around in that little dress," Lucien panted, "feed me like that, sit on my lap like a tease- and not pay for it?"
"I- I iust wanted you," Chase moaned.
"You have me. All of me."
Lucien grabbed both of Chase's wrists, pinned them behind his back with one hand, and used the other to press on the arch of his spine- forcing him deeper onto the desk.
He pounded into him mercilessly, the sound of skin against skin loud in the echo of the office.
Chase couldn't even speak anymore- just choked cries and whispered pleas, the silk of his nightdress bunched around his waist, sweat making it cling to his ribs.
Lucien bit into his shoulder. "You're mine, Chase."
Chase moaned, long and broken. "I'm yours- I'm yours- I'm- ahh-"
Lucien rammed in deep and held there cock throbbing, grinding slow as he filled him again- hot, thick, until it leaked down Chase's thighs.
They stayed like that- bent over the desk, panting, trembling.
Lucien leaned down, pressing soft kisses along Chase's shoulder blade now. His voice dropped to something gentle.
"You always take me so well," he whispered. "My perfect little wife."
Chase turned his face to the side, smiling tiredly, cheek pressed to the cool wood. "And you're lucky I love you," he whispered back, "or I'd have teased you harder."
Lucien chuckled and kissed his spine. "Oh baby. You will later. I'm not done with you yet."
Lucien didn't give him a break.
Chase's legs were still shaking from the desk when Lucien pulled out- slow and dripping- then turned him around catching him under the thighs in one powerful motion.
Chase yelped, hands flying to his shoulders. "Lucien-!"
He was in the air, legs spread around the man's waist, dress hitched up over his hips, cock already nestled against that messy, swollen entrance.
Lucien's eyes were wild. Hungry.
"Couldn't wait for the bed," he growled backing them toward the wall. "Need you now."
He slammed Chase's back to the cool paneling with a thud, hand gripping his waist so that it now arched, making Chase gasp and moan.
"God, you feel good like this," Lucien murmured, licking into the sweat at Chase's neck. "Just hanging off me. So small. So mine."
Chase clawed at his shirt, whimpering "Please- again- Lucien, I want-"
"You want this cock?" Lucien asked, lining himself up with one hand while the other kept Chase suspended like a toy.
"Yes- yes, please-"
He didn't wait.
With one brutal thrust, Lucien slammed in.
Chase screamed, head tipping back against the wall, fingers digging into Lucien's back- he stretch, the pressure- it was overwhelming. He was split wide, stuffed full, completely pinned between the wall and the man who owned him.
Lucien hissed, teeth at Chase's ear. "So fucking tight. And you just take it."
He pulled out halfway, then slammed in again, bouncing Chase slightly with every thrust. The boy moaned, wrapping his arms around Lucien's neck, thighs trembling where they clung to his hips.
"You were made to be fucked like this," Lucien grunted. "Up in the air, legs around me, taking it like my perfect little wife."
Chase sobbed, tears clinging to his lashes. "I love you- I love you- oh fuck, I-!"
Lucien bit into his shoulder. "Say it again."
"I love you," Chase cried, voice cracked. "Yours, yours, yours-!"
Lucien's hips snapped harder now- deep punishing, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the office like music. He held Chase up like he weighed nothing, using his tight little hole like a cock sleeve, lifting and fucking him midair with no restraint.
Chase's back hit the wall again. His cock bounced untouched between them already leaking.
Lucien looked down at it, grinning. "You're gonna cum again just from this?"
Chase nodded frantically, tears falling.
"Good," Lucien growled. "Let me feel it."
He bounced him harder, hips grinding, cock ramming deep until Chase cried out- and then his whole body trembled, back arching, as he came again, untouched coating both their stomachs in sticky white.
Lucien groaned into his mouth and came seconds later, slamming up into him so deep Chase swore he could feel it in his stomach.
They stayed like that- Chase still pinned to the wall, Lucien breathing against his neck, his arms finally loosening to cradle him instead of gripping so tight.
Chase blinked blearily. "You always do this to me...."
Lucien kissed his lips softly, lovingly. "Because I fucking love you."
Then he carried him straight to the bath- cock still inside.