Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 37: Chapter 37

DESTINY
Marat’s room was in one of the ritziest hotels on the Strip. I’d been in the lobby before, but never in a room, and sure as fuck, I’d never been in the penthouse.
But I couldn’t divert any attention to my surroundings. He claimed all of it. The elevator ride was a blur. And as for the décor of the penthouse suite? I had no fucking idea.
I was a fan of beautiful things. I liked art and nature. Even the neon signs and the riotous, sometimes gaudy, interior design of hotels, bars, clubs, and restaurants in Vegas were pretty.
But if someone asked me right then what color the walls were or what flooring was beneath my feet, I would have had no fucking clue.
I could have been anywhere standing on anything and it wouldn’t have made a dent through the fog of passion shrouding my brain.
All I saw, heard, and felt was him. Marat Volkov was everywhere. He was everything. For someone who’d been alone most of her adult life, I hadn’t even put up a fight.
This big, sexy man had walked into my life, and I literally and willingly handed him the reins. At that point, all I could do was hope to god he knew how to drive this thing.
“Goddamn. You taste so good. Why do you taste so fucking good?” he growled against my soft flesh.
My body tingled with desire. It was like someone had flipped a switch and I was buzzing with electricity, vibrating with need. I didn’t know what was crazier, that I wanted him so much, or that he seemed to want me with equal fervor.
I’d never felt sexier or more desirable in my life. I knew very well what I looked like, what I offered. I was plump, short, and not exactly a spring chicken. I had cellulite and stretch marks, my belly was soft, and my thighs were jiggly.
Sure, my face was pretty enough. But I wasn’t in his league. And no, I didn’t have a poor body image. I’d learned early to love myself because it was unlikely anyone else was going to if I didn’t. But I wasn’t delusional.
Marat was a vision of physical perfection, and I was short, chubby, and at best, cute. I was half a second away from panicking. That nasty bitch doubt threatened to creep in, making me second guess myself.
But it was like Marat sensed my growing hesitance. He grabbed onto me, pulling me flush against him, making sure I felt the hard evidence of his heightened arousal.
Chubby or not, he liked what he saw. I could feel it in the way his cock pulsed against me. He growled, the sound deep and sexy. Then he moved faster than I could track.
We moved from the elevator to the hall to the master bedroom on the other end of the suite. His hands were everywhere, cupping my tits, squeezing my ass, and gripping my pussy over my pants.
“Let’s get this fucking thing off,” he said, and popped the hooks of the corset, allowing my tits to spill free.
“Goddamn. Fuck.”
His forehead pressed against mine as he cupped my breasts, feeling their weight. My nipples were so hard, I whimpered when he lowered his head, closing his mouth around one and sucking it into his hot mouth.
“Marat,” I moaned, arching my back.
While he lavished attention on my breasts, his hands were busy. I heard clothing tear and felt him tugging the fabric away from my overheated body. But I was too absorbed by what he was doing to worry about how I looked.
Marat had me stripped down and sprawled before him on top of black satin sheets like some sort of pagan offering in no time at all.
It was fitting, really. From the moment I first saw him, Marat looked like the Devil to me. Perfectly chiseled, sculpted features highlighted by the soft glow of the wall sconces. His obsidian gaze pinned me, and I gasped at how beautiful he really was.
He undressed quickly, and I was completely taken aback by the raw power in his body. The man could have been carved from marble. A living, breathing monument to what a man should be.
He was bulkier than I’d thought. Muscles roped around his long frame. And even more shocking was the enormous tattoo that traveled from his left ankle up his entire side.
The thick tribal pattern called to something primal in me and when he twisted his hips to drop his clothes on the floor, I saw a wolf inked across his ribs. The beast’s hackles were up, the entire tattoo done in black, except for the eyes. Those were red.
The Devil is a wolf.
Need pooled between my legs. My pussy was practically waving a flag and begging him to fill me already.
I’d been teasing him earlier that night when I’d said women probably creamed themselves by just looking at him. But staring up at him from my position on my back I realized that was a very possible likelihood.
How amazing and awful that must be.
The thought pained me, and I reached up, tracing his face from eyebrow to jaw with just my fingertips. I moved up higher, combing them through his thick, glossy hair, then cradling his cheeks as he leaned down.
His breath hitched in his throat, and I was moved by the sudden evidence of his humanity.
He wasn’t some cold ethereal being. He was a man. And I wanted to gift him with some of what he’d given me.
It was dumb. I wasn’t some sex kitten. I was literally no good at this. The few times I’d indulged it was embarrassing, quick, and unfulfilling.
But I wanted to show him how good he made me feel and offer him some of the same.
I pulled him down for a kiss, and miracle of miracles, he allowed it.
But only for a moment. His tongue snaked out, licking into my mouth before he groaned and broke the kiss. Marat moved down my body.
His lips burned with intensity, leaving evidence of his claim in hot, wet trails over my body. His tongue lashed across my skin, awakening a fiery desire I’d never known.
He made me shiver and moan, unable to comprehend the sensations rolling through me.
“Marat,” I moaned his name.
It must have been a good thing, cause he moaned too. He tasted like sin and desire, dark, exotic, forbidden, and I wanted him so damn much.
His fingers were demanding then, and he pushed my legs open, revealing my soaked sex to his obsidian stare.
“Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet. Fucking soaked,” he groaned, his fingers spearing between my legs.
I yelped a surprised sound at his invasion. His fingers delved deeper, curling inside my sheath, and my pussy rippled around his thick digits.
“S’going to be tight, but you can take me. You’re going to let me have you, aren’t you, Dumplin’?” he growled the question, stilling his hand.
His fingers slowly retreated until just the tips remained inside. He pressed his lips against mine, kissing me sweetly.
A deep, guttural sound spilled from his lips. Like it was killing him to go slow. Then he licked along the seam of my lips, begging entry.
He was right. I was going to let him in. I was going to give him everything.
“Give it to me. Let me in, Destiny,” he growled, calling me by name.
I opened my lips, and he hummed in approval. The sound so deep in his throat, it sent shivers reverberating from his chest to mine. Fire spiked through my veins.
All at once, Marat pushed his fingers all the way inside my channel and thrusted his tongue into my willing mouth. I grasped his shoulders, needing something to anchor me.
Without him to hold on to, I might have combusted in an explosion made of sheer desire. I’d never been so completely turned on, and it scared the hell out of me. But I was so fucking glad I said yes to him.
I knew better than to trust a stranger, but the truth was, he didn’t feel like one. There was something so sad and beautiful about the dark-eyed man. The way he looked at me, the way he made me feel seen, was extraordinary. And having him touch me? Well, that was just a bonus.
I knew I shouldn’t acknowledge the connection I felt to him. It was stupid. I was kidding myself. Setting myself up for heartbreak.
But I’d only just found the courage to take something for myself, and I wanted to enjoy it.
No, I wasn’t sure what would happen when I woke up tomorrow, but I was in it for now.
“Going to fill this wet pussy, Baby. Going to make us both feel good. You ready?” he asked.
“Yes. God, yes, I’m ready.”
“Not God. Marat. Call me Marat when I’m about to fuck you.”
His huskily whispered command sent pleasure spiking through my veins. His hands were everywhere. But his attention was all on me.
He made me feel special, cherished, and even if it was a lie, I wanted to believe it. What was the harm in that? It felt so good to be touched. To pretend he cared.
I gasped, rolling my hips as he brushed his thumb across my needy clit. I was on the precipice of pure pleasure. I just had to let go and it could be mine.
I only had to trust him. I could do that. I would do that. For the promise his eyes were giving me right then, I damn well could be brave and give in to the desire we were both feeling.
Just for a little while.
“Marat, please,” I moaned, and the sound of something tearing filled the air.
He moved back, and I watched as he rolled a condom onto his long, thick cock. Holy. Fuck. He was big. Like was he even going to fit big, and I had never had that.
“You can take me. My sweet Dumplin’, you were made for this right here,” he growled, reading my reticence more accurately than anyone ever could.
I nodded, meeting his heated gaze, since he seemed to be waiting for confirmation. I could take him. I was made for him. He said so.
“Please, Marat, I need you now,” I begged.
I had no idea what was going on inside his head. My body was so much softer than his, flushed all over, and swollen with need. But I refused to think badly about myself.
After all, he’d pursued me. The lust in his eyes as he watched me bounce and jiggle said he liked what he saw, bolstering my confidence.
I wasn’t that kid with a fragile ego who’d run away from home all those years ago and fled to Sin City. I was an adult. Had been for a while now. So what if one night stands weren’t my norm?
Did that mean I couldn’t indulge this one time? I was old enough to embrace the fact I was an independent woman, and I had needs. Needs that had gone unmet for too long.
But Marat could meet them. He’d said so. And I believed him. I trusted him to make me feel good. The promise of it shone there in his impossibly dark eyes. Besides, it was my birthday. I hadn’t even had cake.
But this. What he was offering to give me? This I could have. This I could take.
Yes. I would like one orgasm for my birthday, please. Maybe two.
“With me. Stay here with me, Dumplin’,” he growled, eyes flashing black lightning before he slammed his lips against mine.
The man had the Devil’s talented tongue, for sure. I could hardly keep track of my own thoughts. Marat’s obsidian stare bore into me as he notched his blunted head at my entrance. Then he pushed, and all logical thought left my brain.
A long, slow groan accompanied the action, but I was uncertain whether it was his or mine or a combination of us both. He was so fucking big. So thick. So hard.
And it was all for me. For me. I couldn’t contain my response. I raked my nails down his muscled back whimpering as he practically split me in half with his fat cock. Dear god, he was hung.
“Good girl. You’re such a good girl, taking me so fucking good,” he grunted, pulling back, then slamming all the way inside till his hips were flush with mine.
The delicious burning sensation ebbed and flowed, drowning me until all I could see, hear, breathe, and feel was him. Marat surrounded me. He encompassed me.
“Goddamn, you feel so good. Like coming home. Let me in, Baby. That’s it. Take it. Take me,” he grunted, rutting inside me like a madman.
The ferocity of his movements shook the bed, or maybe that was an earthquake. I wrapped my legs around him, unable to do anything but hold on and take everything he gave me.
I was noisy. I knew I was, and the sounds I made reverberated inside the decadent bedroom. Eyes open, I saw the mirrored ceiling and the black, gold, and red design. It was rich and glamourous, but we could have been in a shed for all I cared.
He outshone everything.
Hugging me tight to him, I could feel Marat move, like he was trying to touch every inch of me. He ground his pelvis against mine, rubbing my clit just hard enough to send me catapulting off that preface I’d been teetering on since he shoved that big dick of his inside me.
And. It. Was. Spectacular.
“Fuck, your pussy is squeezing me so tight, You’re going to suck the cum right from my balls,” he groaned, his movements growing jerky.
With a strained growl, Marat reared back onto his knees, spreading my thighs further apart. He looked feral then, beast-like.
His sharp cheekbones were more pronounced as he gritted his teeth, and those black eyes zeroed in on me. I felt that stare down to my toes, but I couldn’t look away.
Then, he started to move. His thrusts deeper than before, and my mouth gaped open.
Holy. Shit.
Grabbing both my hands in his, he slammed them over my head. His knees were wide, forcing my legs to open even more.
Marat pressed down, crushing me with his weight, slamming his thick dick home again and again. He pistoned his hips, faster, harder, and goddamn, I was coming again, and so hard, I almost blacked out.
But I forced my eyes open, not wanting to miss the look on his face as he exploded inside me. And it was worth it. So fucking worth it.
I might have made the right assessment the first time I’d gazed upon Marat Volkov. The man was the Devil.
And I’d just been fucked stupid.