Chapter 18
Claudia
Every night since I confessed to Rovin that I’ve been fantasizing about him since the very first night I met him, we have dug into my psyche for another fantasy to fulfill. I have enough of them to last us a lifetime.
But tonight I want something different.
“Tell me one of your fantasies,” I say to him as I pull him into our room.
He frowns a little. “To be honest you’ve been keeping me very satisfied with your own…” he trails off, but I hear the excuse for what it is.
“Well, now I want to satisfy you even more,” I reply, unbuttoning his shirt. I turn around for him to unzip my dress, revealing just the lace thong beneath. The dress pools at my feet as he takes my ass in both hands and squeezes.
“I’d like you to try and deep throat me,” he whispers against my ear and I shiver. “But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”
I turn back to him, taking his hands and placing them on my tits, encouraging him to squeeze them.
“I want to,” I say with a grin and drop to my knees.
I pull open his belt slowly, and undo the button and zip on his trousers, letting them drop to his ankles.
I press my face against his crotch and bite his hardening length lightly over the fabric of his boxers.
I run my hands up his thick thighs, his hips, and tuck my fingers into his waistband before pulling them down in one swift motion.
His cock bobs with the movement, then twitches as it grows more.
I tilt my head back and take the crown of him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, tasting the saltiness of him.
I’ve only gone down on him a few times, and only ever taken the very end of him into my mouth.
Mostly because I have no idea what I’m doing.
But tonight I’m willing to try for more.
Rovin exhales a low groan, encouraging me on, and I take him a little further into my mouth.
His hand comes to the back of my head, holding as I move back and forth, trying to take him deeper on every third stroke. I move one hand to cup his balls, and keep the other on his ass to guide him in my rhythm.
I get him a little over half way before I gag. I pull off immediately and apologize, but he just shakes his head.
“You don’t need to apologize, Claudia, it feels amazing. But stop if you want to.”
Only I don’t want to. I try again, keep going until I gag, but this time I alter my angle a little and manage through it. I gag again when I get him a little further in, my eyes beginning to water with the exertion, but the look on his face is enough to make me want to continue.
He looks like I’m ruining him.
“Fuck, Claudia,” he grunts. “You’re going to have to stop or I’ll end up coming down your throat.”
I slow my movements, not wanting this to be over yet, pressing my tongue against the underside of him until his legs stop shaking. Then I start again. Slower movements, deeper, pushing myself onto him harder until I could choke on his cock.
“Claudia, stop!”
I quickly release his thick, throbbing cock, and turn on to my hands and knees, pulling the gusset of my thong to one side just in time for him to ram himself inside of my wet pussy and fill me up with his hot cum.
His thrust is so hard I have to brace myself against the foot of the bed to keep from collapsing forward, and it’s exactly what I want.
The power of knowing I bring this man to his knees heats me up.
“Fuck,” he yells on the first spurt, holding my hips tight against him.
He pulls out and rams into me for the second, making a fractured sound like something is breaking apart inside him.
The third one comes with a ferocious sounding, “Yes, take it,” and then again through gritted teeth, “take it all!” as he shakes violently against me.
His thrusts weaken off as he fully empties himself with a few last, shaken gasps.
I watch him over my shoulder as he comes back down from his high, and as soon as his eyes lock on mine, they darken all over again.
Without saying anything, he flips me onto my back and ducks his head between my legs, covering my pussy with his mouth.
Hot, insistent strokes of his tongue have me on the edge in seconds.
He eats me like a man possessed. I hold onto the base of the bed with one hand, the other I thrust into his hair and pull him closer.
“Fuck yes, Rovin, eat me!” I cry out as I grind against his face. “Eat my pussy after I choked on your cock.”
He growls against me and I come apart right there on the bedroom floor. Both legs shoot into the air as pleasure bolts through me, Rovin working me through it until I’m left a quivering mess.
After a short while, Rovin lying on the floor beside me, I say, “I’m going to sleep here tonight.”
He laughs, and the sound lights me up just as much as any orgasm does.
The next morning, Rovin lays the contracts out on the dining table.
Marriage contracts. Not a standard prenuptial agreement, or the kind of document a solicitor drafts in a city office with carefully negotiated clauses and exit strategies.
This is a Mostovoi contract, dense with provisions I've never seen before, written in language that blends legal precision with something older and more absolute.
I read it slowly. Rovin sits across from me, not interrupting. Letting me process.
The contract establishes me as Rovin's wife under both civil and family law.
It grants me access to the household accounts, the residential properties, and a personal trust funded with an amount that makes my eyes widen before I school my expression.
It names me as the mother of his heirs and grants me shared authority over their education, security, and upbringing.
And then there's the final clause.
In the event of Rovin Mostovoi's death, Claudia Mostovoi assumes full guardianship of all children and retains all marital assets and protections in perpetuity.
The Mostovoi family pledges the ongoing security, financial support, and familial recognition of Claudia Mostovoi as the surviving matriarch.
I read the clause three times. Then I look up.
"You've made me permanent," I say. "Even if you die."
"Especially if I die. My brothers will protect you. The family structure ensures it. You will never be left unprotected, regardless of what happens to me."
I set the contract down. My hands aren’t shaking, but it takes effort.
"This is more than I expected."
"It's less than you deserve." He leans forward, forearms on the table, and his eyes hold mine.
"You came to me with nothing left. No family support, no financial safety net, your reputation shredded by the press.
You came with intelligence and courage and the audacity to walk across a room and tell a man like me that you chose him.
That is worth more than any financial asset I possess. "
I blink. The backs of my eyes sting, and I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth, hard, until the feeling passes.
"I’ll sign it," I say.
He produces a pen. I sign. He signs. The contract sits between us on the table, binding us together in ink and intention.
"Is there a date for the wedding?" I ask, thinking back to dinner last night and how we are the first and it needs to be soon.
"Saturday."
"That's four days from now. I need to get a dress."