My Rich Hot and Infertile or Maybe Not Husband

Clair’s birthday party can be described in one phrase lavish as hell

Her friends had invited a bunch of hunky, top–notch male models to perform at the venue

Although they were supposed to be performing, their dance skills were nothing to write home about. But with all those muscle–bound men in nothing but shorts, they were hard to ignore

A glimpse around revealed nothing but glistening muscles, reminiscent of some risque strip clubs, sending the atmosphere through the roof.

Trisha stood up from the pool, about to snap some photos with her phone.

Nicolas pulled her back, hugging her from behind. “Your boyfriend’s right here. How about some respect for me?”

Trisha couldn’t care less about the “boyfriend” thing. She struggled and said, irritated, “I haven’t had a blast in ages. Now, I just want to let my hair down, and you’re stopping me. Are you even human?”

on his chest, whispering, “Am I not

at you is one kind of pleasure. Looking at a dozen

decided to pick her up and walked out of the

to ward off any pretty boy who dared to

the entertainment industry for a long time, Nicolas knew the ins

parties, hoping to catch the eye of some rich

invite these people to his own birthday parties. They were good for livening up the atmosphere, but he never got too

Celeste. Their eyes were practically glued to

clothes were so skimpy they barely covered their

her face and ears red, whispered to