Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 48: Chapter 48

DESTINY
“Marat, welcome home!” a loud voice boomed from the top of the opulent staircase.
I clutched Marat’s hand and felt his responding squeeze all the way to my toes as we walked up the stairs towards a man who could only be his brother. Marat released me to embrace him, and I stood to the side and waited.
“Hello, you must be Destiny,” the man said, his voice revealing a trace of an accent I’d never picked up from his brother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Adrik,” I said, wondering if I should offer my hand, but settling on not when he made no move to touch me.
“Come. Zaika moya is beside herself to meet you, but little Michaela needed changing,” he explained and turned, leading the way inside.
“How was the trip, brother?”
“Good. Josef has the award. He’ll bring it to the office tomorrow.”
“Where is Josef?” I asked, wondering where the bearded man had disappeared to.
“He’s checking in with the security team, but he will join us to eat,” Adrik explained.
The sounds of a baby fussing and a woman cooing reached my ears as we walked into an enormous living room. It was done in shades of black and silver.
Expensive furniture was expertly placed to maximize the space. But what shocked me was the sheer amount of baby toys and books mixed in with all the lavish belongings.
I would have expected nothing short of military order judging from the enormous, intimidating man that was Adrik Volkov. But this space seemed lived in. It looked loved. And my smile was real as I took it all in.
“There she is,” Marat said, walking away from me towards a beautiful woman dressed in a silver patterned jumpsuit, holding a perfectly angelic baby in her arms.
The baby squealed, jumping from the woman’s arms to Marat’s. He lifted her high in the air, speaking another language that sounded suspiciously like Italian, and I almost tripped. I’d never heard him speak anything other than English.
Was it getting hotter in there?
“Hi, I’m Sofia,” the woman said, as Adrik moved next to her and wrapped an arm around her back.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Destiny,” I said.
I was smiling so hard with nerves my cheeks hurt. Taking pity on me, Sofia offered me a glass of white wine, which I accepted. I was trying not to react to the spectacle of Marat holding and charming his formerly fussy niece so effortlessly.
“Well, Destiny, my brother has told me nothing about you,” Adrik began.
“Adrik, she’s not interviewing for a job,” Sofia scolded gently.
“I know this. And please, you must forgive me, but I have questions,” Adrik said, but I had a feeling he was not really asking for my forgiveness.
“Of course you do,” I replied easily.
“Is dinner ready?” Marat interrupted, walking back over to us.
He met his brother’s somewhat hostile gaze and handed Sofia the charming baby. Then he took my hand in his, lifting it to his lips, and I felt his claim settle my nerves.
“Yes, of course,” Adrik said, staring at the place where our hands were joined.
Dinner was easier than the tension I’d felt before. I sat between Marat and Sofia. Adrik was the more reserved of everyone, with Josef following closely. But he was gentle with his wife, and I appreciated that they had a true love match.
“So, what was it like living in Las Vegas?” Sofia asked as we were served delicious platters of rare roast beef, sauteed broccolini, and mashed potatoes.
“Oh, busy, noisy, expensive,” I blurted, then laughed. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you want to know.”
“No, I’m sorry. You see, I’m a writer and my mind is forever working on the next story. I was thinking of setting my next book there,” she said, and I smiled.
“Oh my god, that is awesome! Are you published? What’s your pen name? I devour books. Seriously, I read all the time.”
“Me too,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I am self-published. I write under the pseudonym Z. Wolff.”
“Shut up! I just finished your Billionaires Over Broadway series!”
“You did not!”
“I did,” I squealed.
We chatted about books and the publishing world while we ate, and the men discussed business. Time flew by and I felt completely at ease because of Sofia. Adrik excused himself to take a call, and Sofia left to put the baby down for her nap.
Josef remained, but his attention was on his coffee. When my gaze darted back to Marat, I found him watching me curiously.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t know you liked to read. I didn’t see any books at your apartment,” he said, frowning.
We’d stopped at my place before heading to his private jet. Marat had some people meet us there, and we went over instructions on what they were to pack and ship to New York for me. He was right. I did not have any paperbacks.
“Oh, I read on my phone. Or using an eReader. I mean I love all books, but print copies are expensive. Not to mention they take up space, which, as you saw, I didn’t really have.”
“I see,” he murmured.
We left soon after, and the ride to the penthouse took over an hour with all the traffic. I sucked in a huge breath when the elevator doors opened, revealing the space. I’d expected it to reflect his wealth, and it did.
It had that sparse but opulent vibe. The butter soft couches were black, the floors were polished to shine, and the art on the walls was authentic. But it was the floor to ceiling windows that really got me.
“You can see everything from here,” I whispered reverently, and walked across the room to look down at the city below.
“Yes,” Marat agreed, startling me with his nearness.
“Do you want to rest? Take a bath?” he asked, head canted as he watched me.
We were alone in the penthouse, and night was falling on the city beneath us. No, I was not tired, and I did not feel particularly dirty. There was only one thing I wanted. One thing that would soothe the unease I’d been feeling all day.
“No.”
“What do you want?”
His voice was deeper just then, and it stroked against my skin like hands. I faced him, the window at my back, and shrugged out of the sweater he’d asked me to wear when we were in the car.
Next, I kicked off my sandals and unbuttoned my pants. Marat hummed. The growly sound sending spikes of desire soaring through me.
I was never a stripper. Didn’t have the body or the gumption to perform as those women did. And I’d never undressed with a man watching me so intently.
But he’d asked me what I wanted, and what I wanted was this. To be the object of my beautiful husband’s attention. To bring him peace and contentment. To erase that sad, weary look I sometimes saw behind his obsidian eyes.
I wanted his eyes on me tonight. I wanted this right here. His awareness. His unwavering focus, following my every move as I revealed myself to him, one article of clothing at a time.
Sex wouldn’t solve the turmoil I’d felt earlier on the plane ride. It was rash and stupid. The act of a desperate woman, some would say. But sex was also a form of communication. It was a means to deliver comfort.
For him and me both. I wasn’t sure who needed it more. But after his revelation about love on the plane ride, I thought maybe I was in first place in that particular race.
My body ached, and my soul cried out for a connection.
Okay, fine, I could admit it. I needed my husband. Desperately.
“Fuck.”
I dropped the last piece of clothing, shaking my hair loose from the clip holding my curls in place.
“Look at you, Dumplin’, so fucking hot,” he hummed the last word, raking me from head to toe with his gaze.
“You teased me all day with that body of yours in that thin fucking shirt. Then we get home, and you strip for me. Sexy little thing, showing me what you want,” Marat growled.
His words made me squirm. Each syllable he uttered had the same effect as hands on my skin. My nipples pebbled. My breathing came in short, trembling bursts. Like panting and gasping but all mixed together. The butterflies in my stomach were beating their wings to the symphonic strings playing in my head.
Still fully dressed, to my completely bare, Marat never looked more like the original fallen angel, Lucifer, himself than he did right then, with all of Manhattan laid out below him and me on my knees.
His black on black suit was immaculate despite all the traveling we did that day. He could have just walked off a photoshoot. He was so fucking hot.
“You want me, Baby?”
“Yes. I want you,” I confessed, not bothering to deny it.
“On your knees,” he commanded.
I dropped down, panting with desire. Marat unzipped his fly, not even bothering with the buckle. He reached inside, took out his hard cock, already leaking precum.
I moaned, leaning forward. Mouth wide, I sucked his tip inside and swiped my tongue over his slit. The salty, sweet taste of him had my pussy clenching on air, needing to be filled.
But not yet.
I wasn’t done sucking my husband’s cock. The small taste I’d had wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed it all.
“You going to swallow me down, Dumplin’? Show me what you got, baby.”
Marat pulled on my hair. I lifted my head, nodding as I opened wide. Then he grunted, shoving his hips forward and pushing his thick dick all the way in.
Tears burned my eyes, and my gag reflex activated. He was so big. So thick. But I wasn’t giving up. He made to move his hips away. But I grabbed his hand, holding it onto the back of my head. I covered Marat’s hand with mine, adding pressure as his palm cupped me. I pressed down more firmly, making him hold me in place.
“Goddamn. You want me to fuck your throat? Is that what you want, Dumplin’? Want to swallow my cum?” He was panting by then.
I couldn’t nod, but I kept that hand over his, squeezing to let him know yes, that was what I wanted. My other hand stayed on his hip to steady myself. Moisture pooled between my legs, the wetness dripping down my thighs as I bobbed my head up and down, taking him deeper with every pass.
“Fuck. So good. So fucking good,” He grunted, his hand holding tight to my head.
Never in my life had I felt anything close to what I felt at that moment. Who knew giving head could be so damn hot? But seeing him like that, my fallen angel at my mercy, made me feel powerful.
It made me feel prideful. His mouth was open, and his eyes glittered as he watched me suck his dick. It was the sexiest feeling in the world. I felt slick arousal pool between my legs, and I moaned around his cock.
“Oh, fuck, Dumplin’. Mm. Moan again. That’s it. Good girl. I’m going to come now, Baby. You ready?” he asked, his words so low I could hardly make them out.
I’d never been into the idea of swallowing, but I needed to. With Marat, I needed every drop of his cum down my throat.
“Fuccckkk, Dumplin’. Fuck!” Marat shouted, and I moaned as I swallowed him down.
Eyes wide, I looked up, his cock still pulsing in my mouth as he clenched his teeth and hissed, his orgasm still going, filling me with his essence. He was so goddamn beautiful.
Moaning one last time he dropped his head forward, eyes still closed as his breathing slowed. My heart squeezed and pride filled me, knowing I was the one who offered him this, who brought him relief and peace.
I wasn’t supposed to feel like that. I shouldn’t feel like that. Not about him.
I knew if I grew more attached to him, I was going to suffer. But it was like trying to stop a roller coaster in the middle of the ride. There was no way. Simply nothing I could do about it.
Might as well go down smiling.