Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 31: Chapter 31

MARAT
Her dark curly hair was swept back from her soft face in some kind of complicated knot at her nape. She had blue eyes lined with some smoky dark shit women did to tantalize men.
I didn’t know shit about makeup or fashion. Never really paid attention. The women I typically dated wore so much crap caked on their faces, the few times I’d seen them without it they were unrecognizable.
Not that I cared what a woman did to make herself feel good. Wear makeup. Don’t wear makeup. It was none of my business what a woman did, and I wasn’t so arrogant as to tell one what she could or could not do.
Then again, maybe I’d simply been uninterested in what other women wore. This woman, though, she interested me. I wouldn’t mind watching her get dressed. Or undressed.
Preferably the latter.
Whatever she did to her face, the effect was stunning. But I had a feeling this woman would not look like a different person if I saw her early in the morning, her face clean of all cosmetics.
Suddenly, I wanted that. I wanted her in my bed early in the morning with nothing on. No clothes. No makeup. Nothing between us. Nothing at all.
I knew quality, and she had that. The makeup she wore was minimal. Even with the dim lights and crowd of people, I could make out her unblemished skin and glossy pink lips from across the room.
Those eyes those, they were the clincher. They fucking glowed like I imagined an angel’s would, and my mouth went dry as I watched her approach.
I could almost picture them trained on me while I dove headfirst between her legs to feast on her sweet ambrosia. And it would be sweet. I just fucking knew it would.
How could it not be? She was so soft. Plump. Delicious. Tempting. So fucking tempting. My sexy little Dumplin’ was made just to beguile and entice me.
Only me.
I wanted her. Any part of her. Every part of her. In my mouth.
Now. Right fucking now.
My line of vision was suddenly cut off, and I growled unhappily as three women, one who looked vaguely familiar, stepped in front of me. I was used to getting approached. Hell, there was a time I welcomed it. But not now.
Not when the only woman I’d wanted in too long a time was headed back my way. Only now my view of her sexy little walk was blocked by this group of skinny, uninteresting females wanting to ride my jock.
“I thought that was you, Marat,” one of the three women said. “Why didn’t you come say hello?”
I ignored the interruption, willing the trio of blondes to disappear. Did I know them? Possibly. But fuck if I remembered.
I knew that made me a dick. But did it, really? Whenever I bedded a woman, I made sure she knew it was casual at best.
I never pretended to be interested in anything other than whatever we had been engaged in at the time. And I never went back for seconds.
These women should have waited for a sign, or an invitation. Neither of which they would have gotten.
Was I an asshole?
Maybe.
Fine.
Definitely.
But I sure as fuck did not call those women over to my table. They were fucking with my mood, and I wanted them gone.
“Pardon me,” Dumplin’ whispered.
Why was she looking down? And why was her voice so soft, so unsure? She was back to looking at Josef, and I frowned harder.
I wanted to catch her attention by any means. But she kept her gaze averted, and it was driving me mad.
“It’s been awhile since you’ve been here,” the blonde kept talking.
How fucking clearer did I have to be that I was not interested in her or anything she had to say? My face averted, I completely ignored the three women.
I brooded instead. Watching Dumplin’ interact with my bodyguard, offering him tentative glances and shy smiles.
Still acting like I was fucking invisible. My gut twisted. It left me feeling stranded, stunned even. How was I supposed to talk to her if she wouldn’t even look at me?
What the fuck is up with this woman?
“Would you like me to pour?” She asked in that husky, rich voice that went straight to my balls.
My dick strained, and the blonde currently bent over in front of me eyed it like she was responsible. I restrained from telling her to fuck off.
Barely.
I kept my eyes on her, on Destiny. Cute name, but I doubted it was real. Besides, to me she was Dumplin’.
A delicious treat I wanted to devour. My wild reaction to her as she continued talking to Josef was completely unprecedented.
Fuck. I was jealous. Me.
To an outsider, my bodyguard might have looked oblivious. But because I knew the motherfucker, I could tell he was getting a kick out of her ignoring me and my reaction to her dismissal.
Simmering fury was a pretty apt description for my increasingly unbridled emotions.
Why won’t she even look at me?
“Thank you, Destiny. That would be fine,” the asshole said, dipping his manly bearded chin as he waited for her to pour.
Fucking dick.
He could pour his own drink. Josef had two hands. It was all I could do not to reach out and grab the fucking bottle, pluck it from the tabletop before she could, and pour his stupid vodka myself.
But I stopped myself. Forcing my brain to ask the questions I’d been avoiding. Like why I didn’t want her to do it? It was her job.
Maybe it was because she was so damn petite and fragile looking. For the first time in my life, I wanted to ease someone else’s burden, and that was a total fucking surprise.
More than likely, it was because I was a selfish, greedy prat who wanted her all to myself.
I made fists with my hands and watched hungrily as she moved the glasses closer to her, tucking the tray unobtrusively away as she opened the bottle.
“Marat?” the blonde whined.
Were they still there? I sighed. These women did not take hints well. It was bad enough they’d approached me without an invitation, but the fact they still stood there waiting for a crumb of attention was just embarrassing. For me and for them.
I’d been downright ungracious, but now it was time for me to be blunt. They needed to take the fucking hint.
“Excuse me, I am having a drink with my friend here. Perhaps you’d be happier chatting with someone more attentive to your needs,” I said, not giving a fuck.
I didn’t acknowledge their affronted gasps. And I didn’t pay attention as they walked away with promises to see me soon.
My eyes and ears were on her alone. My tempting little Dumplin’.
She’d just finished the second pour when I decided I couldn’t wait another second. I needed to feel her.
Never one to deny myself any earthly pleasures, I reached out and touched the soft skin on her wrist with my fingers, making her jump.
“Pardon me,” I murmured, encouraged by the feel of her pulse racing beneath my fingertips. “Do I make you nervous?”