25. Michaela
Michaela
T he life of a billionaire’s wife is extra sweet.
Like flying in style on a private jet, landing at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle Airport is different when you’re part of the top echelon.
Customs isn’t a never-ending line of cranky, tired travelers arriving from crammed commercial flights, desperate to get to their hotel or home.
There was practically no wait time for us. We were in and out in a flash.
Money is a beautiful thing.
The same level of luxury applies to the drive from the airport to the hotel. Sitting in the back of a chauffeured Mercedes-Benz beats sitting in the back of a tiny taxi by a long shot.
Been there, done that.
Then, there’s the accommodation.
The hotels I could afford when I visited the city tended to be small in size, with diminutive rooms designed for sleep and nothing more. Everything about the Pompadour Saint-Honoré is grandiose.
Where the Pompadour, Beverly Hills is sleek and modern, this location is encrusted in olde worlde charm.
The exterior of the building is exactly what you’d expect to see in a city like Paris.
The juxtaposition with the ultramodern interior décor is striking.
The luxury hotel is located on Rue Saint-Honoré in the 1st arrondissement––one of the city’s wealthiest neighborhoods.
It’s a convenient walking distance from the Louvre, the upscale shops on Champs-élysées, and steps away from Place Vend?me.
The beauty of this prestigious hotel is unparalleled.
I step out of the bedroom and into the living room. Our penthouse-style suite is so massive, there’s an actual living room outfitted with sofas, chairs, a bar, large screen TV and a kickass sound system.
I clear my throat. “How do I look?”
He turns around from the window where he’s standing, drink in hand.
He gives me a onceover. His blue eyes are electric as he appraises my dress.
“You don’t like it?”
He studies me.
I grow self-conscious under his gaze.
His long strides carry him to the bar cart. He drops his tumbler on the glass surface then slides both hands into his pockets before strutting in my direction.
He gives me another onceover, this one so slow, it feels like a caress. “Jesus.”
“Is that a good Jesus or a bad one?” Nervousness coats my words.
Phoenix’s eyes roam over my body, taking in every inch of me.
I work my lower lip, awaiting his verdict.
“That’s a ‘Jesus, I can’t wait for this damn gala to be over, because right now, I’m seriously debating skipping it altogether so I can spend the rest of the evening sinking my hard cock into your hot, wet pussy’.”
On their own accord, my eyes land on his crotch before meeting his gaze.
He isn’t joking. He’s hard.
Unbelievable.
“You seem to have a minor problem,” I say.
“There’s nothing minor about my cock and we both know it.”
We laugh.
“All kidding aside, I look the part?” I worry the inside of my cheek. “I’d hate to stand out for the wrong reason.”
“You nailed it, Michaela.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
He closes the gap between us. “I mean it, kitten.” He rubs up and down my bare arms. “You’re going to steal the show tonight.”
“I feel quite pretty.”
“Fuck, pretty. You’re breathtaking.” His eyes drop to my feet. “The crystals on the shoes complement the diamond chandelier earrings and bracelet I gave you as wedding gifts.”
I bring my hands up to my earrings.
Another onceover. “You look like a queen. My queen.”
“Thank you for the compliment. It means a lot.”
Tonight, marks our first official outing as husband and wife, and I’m a jittery mess. We’re not talking about a casual dinner party among friends. We’re heading to the opening gala for the Hospitality Experience Excellence AWARDS.
No pressure.
“You’re going to make me the envy of every man tonight,” he says. “Something tells me I might have to beat a few of the men back with a stick if they stare too long at my beautiful wife.”
The tinge of possessiveness makes me giddy.
After a long eleven-hour flight, we arrived at our suite at one o’clock in the afternoon, Paris time.
Phoenix had to attend to business. I took a power nap.
Then, I spent two hours at the hotel’s spa and salon for hair and makeup.
Once the stylists worked their magic, I was ushered to the hotel’s boutique to select a pretty dress.
After trying on six stunning selections, I picked this showstopper.
I didn’t want a long gown, so I went with a form fitting deep purple strapless dress that hits me above the knee in a shimmery satin fabric.
I paired it with Giuseppe Zanotti black strappy heels.
Given Phoenix’s reaction, I’m proud of myself for going with my gut.
“If we’re exchanging compliments, you look dashing.” I run a hand along his torso as I drool all over my husband. My gaze trails down his long, muscular body before meeting his blue eyes. “You wear a suit like it’s nobody’s business.”
“Thank you.” He winks.
Phoenix is clad in a trademark bespoke suit, a shirt and shoes. Tonight, he opted for head-to-toe black. No tie. He looks fierce. Seriously, this unbelievably handsome man could easily double as a model. To say this level of hotness is distracting isn’t an understatement. Not one bit.
“There’s one thing missing on your outfit,” Phoenix says.
I frown and I lower my head for one more inspection. “There is?”
“Hold tight.” Phoenix rushes to the bedroom.
“What are you doing?”
“Wait there. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay.”
He’s back, holding a square red box with an iconic luxury brand scripted across the lid––Cartier.
I stop breathing.
“I got you this,” he says.
“Phoenix, you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
“You’re impossible.” That’s the best I can come up with because I’m still shell-shocked. Whatever is hiding in that box is going to knock me on my ass. I’m sure of it.
“I bought it for you in Beverly Hills and kept it in the safe in the bedroom when we arrived. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Congratulations, it’s a big fucking surprise.”
“The minute I saw it, I knew it had your name all over it. Now, that I see you in all your glory, it’s perfect.” He flashes me a pantie-melting smile, blinding me.
Phoenix opens the box.
My hands fly up to my cover my mouth and I gasp inside my palms.
Oh, my freaking God.
Myriad emotions ricochet through me at the sight of the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen in my life other than my wedding ring and the rest of my wedding collection. It’s like a thousand little diamonds are winking at me under the light.
My eyes bounce from the dazzling bling to Phoenix’s expectant gaze.
“Please tell me those aren’t diamonds,” I say, placing a hand against my beating heart. Perhaps not the most eloquent words, but Holy Jesus, this necklace must have cost a fortune.
“We’ve had this discussion before, Michaela. As my wife, you deserve the best.”
“Phoenix, this is stunning.”
“And it will look even better around your neck.” He traces my breasts with one finger. “It complements the bodice of the dress and it will accentuate the swell of your tits.”
I shiver under his touch.
“Turn around. Let me put it on.”
“Okay.”
He slips it on.
I place a hand against the necklace as if it’s going to fall.
“All done,” Phoenix says, closing the clasp.
“Let me go see myself in the mirror.”
“Use my phone.” He produces it.
I take it from him.
This is stunning.
“You like it?”
“No. Nope. Not at all. I. Love. It.”
“I’m glad you do,” he says. “One more thing.”
“You didn’t buy me more jewelry.” My tone is warning.
I can’t handle more. This is overwhelming.
“No. It’s more of a request,” he says, tracing my jawline with his finger.
Something wicked flashes in his eyes.
I narrow my gaze. “What kind of request?”
He leans into me.
This close, his expensive cologne tickles my nostrils. God, I can’t get enough of his Eau de Alpha scent.
“Hand over your panties.” He whispers his command against my lips.
I lose my ability to speak.
Wh––what?
I stare at him, my lashes fluttering like crazy.
“You heard me,” he says when I remain silent.
“You–– Huh? My panties?”
“Yes, I want you to remove your panties and hand them to me.” And if he doesn’t extend his hand, waiting.
“Phoenix, I can’t walk around commando.”
“No one will know.”
“But I’ll know and you’ll know.”
“That’s the whole point. This is between the two of us.” His grin is dangerous.
I’m still staring at him.
The air between us crackles with a palpable charge as I consider his demand.
“I promise to behave,” he says, sweetening the pot. “Knowing you did that just for me is a huge turn on and it’ll get me so worked up that by the time we get back here, I’ll fuck you like an animal and make you come so hard you’ll forget your name.”
Well, when he puts it like that.
I lift the bottom of my dress, but he stops me.
“Let me.” Phoenix kneels in front of me, his molten eyes searing into mine.
He lifts the hem of my dress, latches his fingers around the elastic, and drags my panties down my body.
“Ah,” I say. The cool sensation of my slickness running down my thighs is unexpected.
He leans forward and drops a soft kiss on my bare pussy.
I gasp.
He does it again.
And again.
The fourth time, he snakes his tongue between my lips and swirls it around my hard clit.
Crap. He’s not playing fair.
My pulse thuds inside my throat, beating hard as naughty memories of our smoking hot make-out session in the bathroom of his private jet assail my memory.
He pulls away. “You’re so wet, kitten.”
Fuck.
The hunger I read in his eyes causes my pussy to pulsate.
“Step out of the panties.”
I balance myself on his shoulder so as not to lose my footing in these strappy high heels.
I lift one leg.
Then, the other.
Phoenix brings my panties to his nose and inhales my scent.
Hooded eyes lift up to me. “You’re going to be dripping and so fucking ready for me, kitten.”
Yes, and yes .
“I can’t wait to fill you up with my cum.”
Neither can I.