Chapter 37
37
Quinn
I ’m on my second prosecco when Roman reappears. I hear the sound of the speedboat starting up.
“They’re leaving.” Roman sits beside me. “I want us to have some time alone. You know, to make it official.”
The way he says it sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. Beneath my dress, my thighs chafe in the restrictive mermaid skirt, my pussy damp between them.
It’s scary how quickly he can get to me. Just the proximity to him makes my pulse pound.
“Listen, Quinn.” I laugh when he sets a sizeable crushed-ice cocktail on the side table.
“That’s not your style at all!”
“Quinn.” He smiles, but then his brows knit together, his eyes darkening. “I need you to tell me your fears. I know what danger I bring into your life, but something stalks you. Other than me, of course.”
I’m struck by regret that he won’t be stalking me anymore. I assume I’ll be living with him now, a caged bird. Perhaps he’ll lose interest, his obsession wilting like autumn leaves now the prey has been caught.
I have to tell Roman about Julian. If I lie and it comes out later, I don’t know what will happen, but I doubt it’d be anything less than a shitshow.
“My uncle.” The words come out in a small, scared voice I haven’t heard since I was a kid. “Julian. He’s my mother’s brother and was my guardian. I ran away from home at fifteen because he mistreated me.”
“What did he do?” Roman’s barely-concealed malice drips from every syllable. “I’ll see he pays for hurting you, Quinn. I swear I will.”
“I don’t want that. I’ve been hiding from him for years. If I’m safe now, that’s all that matters. No need to drag all that back up.”
“But—”
“Roman, it’s not your fight!” Frustration I didn’t know I felt comes bubbling up from deep within, frightening me with its intensity. “I had a life. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. You’ve given me a lot. Can’t you let one thing go?”
Roman stares at me for a long moment before wiping away my tears with his knuckles. “My wife. My beautiful, brave girl. Of course, I can let it go. Don’t cry.” He lowers his lips to mine. “It’s gonna be alright. I promise.”
I close my eyes, a powerful surge of desire flowing through me. His touch is like fire against my skin, and the weight of the world melts away.
As our kiss deepens, Roman’s hand finds the zipper of my wedding dress and slowly pulls it down, exposing my skin to the cool air. I shiver with anticipation as he frees me from the confines of the dress, the breeze catching the firm peaks of my nipples. His eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight before him, his hands moving to cup my breasts.
“Mine,” he whispers as though to himself. “Your body belongs to me, always, whenever I want it. Is that clear?”
I nod, too aroused to protest. He can say anything; I’ll agree if he gives me what I need.
I arch into his touch as Roman’s lips move down my neck. He captures one hardened nipple between his lips, sucking and teasing it until I’m writhing with bliss.
His hands and mouth roam over every curve and dip until he reaches the hemline of my dress, and he rolls it up. He licks his lips when he sees the wetness peeking from between my puffy folds.
“That’s my good girl,” he says. “Always do what I tell you, Quinn. I’ll make it worth your while every time. Now,” he strokes a fingertip over my slit, “what does my slutty wife want?”
“Please touch me,” I say. “I want to see you naked, to feel your cock—oh God, Roman. All of it, everything, all at once!”
“Greedy.” He swipes his thumb over my clit, and I gasp. “Greedy little cock-hungry whore. You want me to fuck you wide open, right here and now?”
“Yes, I do.”
Julian used to call me a slut and a whore too, but this is different. Roman’s words are harsh, but his eyes are soft. How does he have me worked out so fast?
I love it when he calls me nasty things, but only because I feel his adoration, his unselfconscious passion for me.
He doesn’t give a shit that I’m fat, inexperienced, poor, and lonely. He’s undone the last three items on that list by sheer force of character, and the first one…well, he’s positively feral for my generous curves.
With a soft smile, Roman stands up and reaches for his fly buttons. I can see the desire in his eyes as he reveals his erection, standing tall and proud against his taut abdomen.
I sit on the bed, my legs trembling as Roman kneels before me. His fingers trace the curve of my hip, and I feel his breath against my skin as he speaks in a low, husky voice.
“You’re everything, Quinn. This pretty pussy is aching for me and me alone. You’ll never need anyone else.”
His hand moves lower, and I breathe in sharply as he reaches the dampness between my legs, his fingers probing my entrance. With one hand, he spreads my pussy lips and slides his fingers into me, first one, then another.
The fullness is so satisfying, and as he pumps a steady rhythm inside me, his thumb brushes against my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my body.
His mouth descends on me again, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive skin of my neck as his hand continues to explore. His cock grows harder against my thigh, and my internal walls clench around his fingers as he moves in and out, driving me wild with each thrust.
“It’s not enough, is it?” Roman asks, his breath hot in my ear. “You’ve had my cock inside you, and nothing less will do. Be patient, moya zhena . I’ll give you what you want until you beg me to stop.”
“You’re teasing me,” I gasp. His other hand reaches for my nipple, pinching it gently between his fingers, sending shivers of sublime sensation through my body. “Why? Didn’t I do it right last time?”
“You did, and you always will,” Roman replies. He continues to finger me, his cock hard and throbbing as it strains against his body. I can feel the heat radiating from it, and my pussy spasms with need, longing to feel him filling me up.
His erection stands at attention, the head glistening with his own arousal. I wrap my hand around it, and he moans softly as I stroke him, his eyes never leaving mine.
Without warning, he kicks off his pants and straddles my chest, pinning my arms beneath him as he cups my breasts, pressing them together. He buries his cock in the fleshy valley between them, and his pre-come lubricates my skin, making it easy for him to slide back and forth.
“Open your mouth and let me in,” he says, the swollen tip of him bumping my chin with each thrust. “You’re so beautiful, Quinn. Let me fuck your pretty throat.”
I do as I’m bid, and Roman groans with satisfaction as his shaft slides over my tongue. The head of his cock hits the back of my throat, but I remember from before what I need to do and relax the muscles to keep the gagging spasms to a minimum.
He tastes of salt and clean skin, and the relentless hardness of him crowds my mouth. My pussy clutches jealously, and I give a little squeak of shock as he pulls out suddenly, rubbing his saliva-slick length between my tits again.
“I want you to ride me.” He pumps his hips harder, and I wonder if he will come on my face before I even get the chance to feel him inside me. “If I can stop doing this, I’ll move, but fuck . It feels so good.”
He thrusts a couple more times, then climbs off me and drags me to my feet. He rips open his shirt, buttons popping off and rolling away over the deck. He’s like a statue that has come to life, some ancient God figure or something. A Roman God.
“You’re smiling.” Roman tugs the dress over my hips, and I step out of it. “I like to see that. Not shy anymore, are you?”
I’m standing on the deck of a multi-million-dollar yacht, and I’m not wearing a stitch. It doesn’t seem right, but there’s no one here but my husband and me.
Husband. This ridiculously hot man is married to me . This man who is sitting on the seat, muscular thighs splayed, cock standing proud and ready to pound my pussy until I scream.
“I’m not afraid,” I say. “I’m too turned on by you. It can’t be healthy.”
Roman pats his legs. “It’s very healthy, baby. Bring your big beautiful ass over here so I can fuck your wet little pussy. It’s been deprived enough for one day.”
I step to him and turn around. He grabs my waist firmly and pulls me down onto him, pinning my legs closed with his own.
The thick tip of him is hot against my almost-closed entrance, but my juice makes it easy for him to move, and he releases an animal growl as he penetrates me. My thighs burn with the exertion of holding the half-squat, but I remain in place so he can move me as he chooses.
The pressure of only feeling the first couple of inches is maddening, and I can’t resist grinding my hips, trying to get more of him inside.
“Easy.” He lowers me slowly onto his girth, and I give a soundless gasp as he bottoms out. “I know you want it.”
He releases my waist, and I look over my shoulder to see his hands crossed behind his head. “Ride it, rusalka,” he says with a grin. “Fuck yourself with my cock. You’re not a virgin anymore, and your cunt needs me to stretch it out.”
I put my hands on his knees to steady myself and lift my body until only the first inch of his cock is inside me, then slide down again, my ass slapping on his hips. The position makes me even tighter around him, and he hisses through his teeth as he winds my hair around his hand.
“That’s it. Keep going.” He pulls my hair as I move up and down. “Your clit needs some attention, right?”
I’d nod, but he’s holding my head back. “Yes. I just want to come. Don’t torment me. But don’t come inside me again—we haven’t discussed birth control.”
The effect of this remark on Roman is electric. He yanks me backward, pulling me fully into his lap as he tucks his knees between mine.
With a quick motion, he opens his legs, parting my thighs and exposing my flushed pussy lips. My clit is swollen and tender, and as his thumb finds it, I let out a long, slow whimper of relief.
“That’s what my wife needs.” He raises his feet to the couch, digging his heels in for leverage. “Fuck birth control, rusalka . I want your belly swollen with my baby.”
As if to emphasize his point, he shoves me down hard onto him, making me cry out.
“I’m gonna fill you with come,” he murmurs, “but not before you get yours. Prikhodi za mnoy, moya zhena . Come for me.”