Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 36: Chapter 36

DESTINY
Things like this did not happen to me. I mean, did they happen to anyone? Thoughts like that plagued me the entire ride to his hotel.
I mean, did big, sexy, rich men—he didn’t have to tell me he was rich, the suit, car, bodyguard, and penthouse kind of gave it away—who looked like gods often swoop chubby little waitresses off their feet, kiss them senseless, and carry them back to their lair to have their wicked way with them?
Snort. Okay, so I’m a dork, but whatever.
Besides, I wasn’t wrong. I was pretty sure stuff like that was reserved for romance novels only. It certainly never happened to me.
I was a simple person. Not in the sense that I was dumb. Far from it. Degrees didn’t equal brains, but I was proud I’d earned a BA in English Literature from an online university.
I worked hard and was currently enrolled in three graduate classes, all virtual. They were the only kind I could take with my work schedule. But I’d been a bookworm since forever.
Reading was always my go to back when I was a kid. Hell, I used to devour the written word faster than my fat tabby cat Horace ate his Tender Vittles.
Books were my escape. They were my special hiding place from a reality that was far too often cold and callous. I read everything from poetry to novels to plays, and more.
When I was younger, I dreamed of being on the stage and I used to practice reading aloud. My family was working class. We never had money for recreational activities or fancy lessons like the kind some of my schoolmates took.
Reading helped pass the time. My best friend Timmy and I poured through old copies of the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books his grandmother had given him. After that, I used to act out scenes from plays I loved. God, it seemed like forever ago, but Timmy and I used to read together all the time.
Running away to Sin City had seemed like the answer for a couple of kids from New Jersey whose parents stifled their hopes and aspirations. The only place we could think of that would give us some freedom to make our own choices.
Years had passed since then, and everything was different now. But I never went back. I didn’t know how to.
In the twelve years since I’d moved to Vegas, I’d stopped dreaming. My silly childish fantasies were nothing but dust and memories. Reality was so much worse. The world I’d imagined full of pretty words and colors was a cruel, dark place more often than not. And I’d learned some pretty hard lessons.
Not a day went by that I didn’t stop and say a prayer for sweet Timmy. Leukemia had ended his life far too soon. It was unfair. It fucking sucked.
But it taught me something. Ever since then, I tried to live my life without regret. I never wanted to waste a single minute or opportunity. I worked damn hard to be happy and to keep my outlook on life bright.
It wasn’t easy living in a place that offered so much temptation. But I was honest and diligent, and I tried not to grasp for more than what I needed or deserved.
I didn’t know if Marat fell into the latter category, but I damn well needed him to quench the desire raging inside me. The lust he’d spiked with his fallen angel looks and possessive display back at Lux.
I never had a man stand up for me like that. Seeing him grapple with Royce and hearing his crisp, explicit instructions to Mr. Ferragamo—a man I knew was connected—without worry or care, did something to me inside.
Marat made me feel special, important. He made me feel like someone worthy of his attention. And I wanted it. His eyes, his hands, his lips, his focus. I wanted it all.
Yeah, I was being dumb. I mean, he probably slept with a different woman every night, but knowing that didn’t stop me from wanting to be next.
Maybe I was pathetic. Needy. Desperate. Or some combination of all three.
It made no difference. Opportunity had knocked, and I was answering.
I might have been completely out of my depth. I mean, I knew I was.
Hell, I wasn’t even in the same category as Marat. But I was the one he brought to his penthouse suite. And the feeling that gave me was pure elation.
He could have had anyone at Lux tonight. And there were plenty of beauties. All lithe and lean and decked out like goddesses.
But he chose me. Me.
I couldn’t help the thrill of excitement his touch gave me. Chills raced up my spine, and my blood heated just being near him.
How long had it been since I had an orgasm? It must have been months.
Sure, I had a drawer full of toys, but up until a few hours ago I’d lived with a roommate, and I never felt comfortable doing that when she was home.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had an orgasm with a man. But the second Marat touched me, it was like lightning bolted straight through my body, right to my clit.
I was seconds from spontaneously combusting. And that never happened.
His body was so hot, so hard. And I didn’t just mean the enormous bat in his pants. My hands roamed over the expensive material of his suit, searching, seeking, needing to feel him, and goddamn, he was fine.
“Um, I think I should probably warn you I am not really good at this,” I confessed, my head fuzzy with lust.
“Not good at what?” he asked, his attention on my body.
“At this. At sex.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, stopping his sensual assault on my overwhelmed system.
He looked mildly amused, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kick him or myself for interrupting.
“It’s just if I don’t come, I don’t want you to be upset,” I told him.
“You think I can’t make you come? Did you just say that?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“Look, I’m not insulting you, and the fault is probably mine, but I just have a difficult time and I wanted you to know it’s my problem not yours,” I tried to explain.
His eyes glittered at me, and I could literally see the moment he decided to act.
“Dumplin’, I’m going to make you come so hard you don’t remember your name,” he growled and flexed his hips, pressing his thick dick against my soft belly.
The resulting flood in my panties made me want to bet on him.
“Just hold on, Baby. I got you,” he growled, licking his way from my cleavage to my mouth.
“Oh god, you smell good,” I moaned, my face buried in his neck.
His scent was divine. Spicy and exotic. Like the man, but more. Like he was caught somewhere between heaven and hell. Angel and devil.
He was so beautiful, and when he moaned, it was like a heavenly host.
Marat licked and sucked on the sensitive skin below my ear.
“You smell good too, Dumplin’. So fucking good. I can’t get enough of you,” he moaned against my neck and the sound went right to my core.
Maybe he really would succeed at getting me off. Miracles happened, or so they said. And it was my birthday.
The man made me shiver with just kisses and some petting, I could not imagine what he would do once he got me naked. He was good at this.
Too good.
And really, it should have made me self-conscious, but it didn’t.
I felt desired. Coveted. And as crazy as it sounded, I loved it. I wanted him to cherish me. To make me feel good the way his eyes promised he could.
I read romance novels, not Forbes. So no, I had no idea what he did or how he made his money. He was rich, obviously.
I didn’t recognize his name, but he was someone if Mr. Ferragamo was bowing down to him. That old mobster didn’t cater to anyone.
The one thing I did not want was to think about the total playboy Marat Volkov was. A man didn’t walk around with that face and body without having a flock of females at his disposal.
I could never belong to a man like that. But for one night, I could pretend. I could take the pleasure he offered and give to him in return. I knew he wanted me.
Why? I had no idea, but there was no denying he was as into this as I was.
By some minor miracle, I’d claimed Marat’s attention, and I was so down with reaping the benefits of his sensual assault. It had been way too long since I felt so good.
Truthfully, I never felt such a pull towards someone.
I wasn’t joking earlier when we’d discussed sex and how I’d candidly told him that I was all for letting my few and far between partners know when I wasn’t satisfied.
I was starting to think part of the problem was the lack of attraction. I mean, I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted him.
My entire body was pulsating with my need for him. I was actually close to coming, and we were still dressed.
I couldn’t believe I talked to him about sex and my O face. But with any luck, Marat was going to get up close and personal with my favorite elusive expression. Hopefully, more than once.
Please let it happen. And because I was a greedy bitch I added, and let it be multiple times.
I sent that last bit out into the universe, desperate to reach the ears of any waiting deities in the area.
Hopefully, they’d answer my prayers.