11. NIKOLAI
“Here,” I murmur, offering Andie my hand as I help her up the stairs. She’s a little wobbly on her feet, no doubt from the champagne as well as the heels she’s wearing, and she giggles as she grips hold of my hand.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m just…not used to all that attention, you know?”
Her eyes are sparkling as she makes her way up the stairs.
I guess she deserves a chance to let loose a little, given how careful she has been all night.
I couldn’t have asked for a wife who fit better into the expectations that my family had for her.
Andie was attentive, charming, witty, and engaged with every detail that came out of the mouths of our guests.
Which means I should be pleased with her. But instead, all I can think about is the way they looked at her—and how certain I am that I need to prove, once and for all, that she’s mine.
“You’re not?” I reply. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“You handled it so well.”
She shrugs as we make our way up the stairs toward her room.
I’ve fed the household staff some lie about Andie needing her own space to sleep, and nobody has pressed too much into it.
I’m not even sure she has noticed that we’re both heading to her room right now, but I’m not going to be the one to stop her and point it out.
Not when I’ve been watching her in that dress all night, the way it hugs her body, the curve of her hips beneath the velvet.
“Well, I guess it’s just practice,” she replies with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve been doing this wedding planning thing for ages. You get used to figuring out how to handle it when you’re dropped into a room full of people you’ve never met.”
“I suppose so.”
She glances at me as we reach her bedroom door, frowning slightly. “What is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
She cocks her head to the side. “Nikolai, come on,” she insists. “I know something’s bothering you. I’m not going to be able to do any better next time if you don’t tell me what’s getting to you, alright?”
I cock an eyebrow, eyeing her there in the door.
Saying it out loud seems…dangerous, that much is for sure.
Because if I tell her what’s really going through my head, the way it made me feel to see her charm those men with such ease, absorb their compliments as though they were made for her, I might come across as more invested in this than I intend to be.
She reaches out to touch my hand, and I swear, as soon as she touches me, it’s like something comes apart at the seams.
The same way it did this morning when she asked me what was going on with my father’s business.
She has this way about her, this manner of holding herself, that unfurls something in me whether I want to admit it or not.
“The way they looked at you,” I murmur, and I lift a hand to her face. Maybe I’m a little drunk too, because I feel that swell of intoxication course through me the moment I touch her. “Like they didn’t know you were mine.”
Her lips part slightly. I reach my thumb across, brushing it against her mouth, just for a moment.
She smiles, almost teasingly. “Don’t tell me that you were jealous…”
“I don’t like people thinking they have a right to what belongs to me.”
“Oh, and I belong to you now, do I?” she retorts playfully. She’s trying to get a rise out of me—not something I’m used to, since most of the people I encounter in my line of work are doing everything in their power to keep from pissing me off.
I can’t help but grin. “Of course you do,” I reply, moving closer to her, pinning her between me and the door. “You don’t remember? That’s my ring on your finger.”
“And you think that means I should just lock myself away where nobody else can see me, is that it?” she continues. She parts her lips slightly, dragging them against my thumb, as though tempting me to make a move.
I know she is my wife, that it would not be out of the ordinary for me to claim her all over again, but our situation is so much more nuanced than that.
I don’t know if what we have will last beyond the time we spend in Russia, if I even want it to—if I can make something work with her long-term, given the speed at which it all kicked off in the first place.
But right now, I’m not thinking long-term. I’m thinking about the way she felt when she was on top of me. The way it felt when I was inside of her.
And I can’t think of anything I crave more than to pick up right where we left off.
I grab her arms and pin them above her head, moving in close enough that I can whisper the words right into her ear. “Let me remind you,” I growl. “Exactly who you belong to.”
And with that, I push her over the threshold, hitching her into my arms and carrying her toward the bed before she can say another word.
She clasps my face in her hands, her eyes half-lidded as she looks down at me.
I slide my hands along her thighs, greedy for the feel of her, the soft feminine curve of her body beneath the dress.
There’s something about her defiance, that smart mouth, that makes me want to put her in her place once and for all, and I intend to show her exactly where that is.
I toss her down on the bed and slide my hand beneath her dress, the skirt hiking up toward her panties. I let out a low groan when I see her underwear, black cotton clinging to her slick folds so I can make out every detail of her pussy.
“See how fucking wet you are for me already?” I murmur, as I run a thumb over her clit through the fabric of her panties.
She moans, her hips rising from the bed, and I eye her for a moment, deciding exactly what I want to do with her.
I know that I want to put the thought of every other man she has spoken to tonight out of her head, once and for all.
And as I push her dress up to pool around her waist, I have just the way to do it.
I grab her ankles, pulling her toward me roughly, and drape them both over my shoulders, her heels leaning against my back.
She’s staring down at me, her lips slightly parted, and there’s that flicker of defiance still left in her eyes.
I’m going to make sure she thinks twice before she speaks to me like that again.
I brush my lips along the inside of her thigh, and she squirms before me, her hands balling the covers into fists on either side of her. I chuckle. “You want me to make you come?” I ask her, and she nods.
She must be thinking about our encounter in the plane, the same way I have been since the second we set foot on solid ground. It seems like the champagne gets her feeling some type of way, though—and in a dress like that, it’s hard not to end up right there with her.
I press a kiss against her thigh, just below the line of her panties, and she reaches down, trying to pull me where she needs me to go. But I draw my head away, cocking it at her as I look up.
“If we’re going to do this,” I murmur, close enough to her that I’m sure she can feel the warmth of my breath against her pussy. “Then I’m the one in control. You hear me?”
She squirms again, her hand still in my hair. She isn’t getting it. I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.
Stripping her of her panties, I toss them aside before I grasp her hands, pinning them beside her on the bed, interlinking our fingers so she can’t move.
She wriggles in front of me, and I pause for a moment to admire the glistening wetness of her pussy, her folds just begging to be parted by my tongue.
A fake marriage, real jealousy, and one hidden heir waiting to complicate everything.
See where the trouble starts on Lokepub.
“Look at how pretty your pussy is,” I murmur, dragging my lips against the crease of her thigh. “Makes me want to taste you, baby.”
She squirms once again, clearly trying to tell me in any way she can that she wants more. I grin, working my way across her mound, brushing my lips against her without ever giving her what she truly needs.
“You want me to eat your pussy?”
She nods. Words seem to have escaped her now.
“Oh, now you’re quiet?” I tease her, tightening my grip on her hands. She lifts her hips, desperately trying to get my mouth where she wants it, but I lean back. “No, you have to say it,” I order her firmly. “You tell me where you want my mouth, you understand?”
She presses her lips together, eyes fluttering shut for a second.
I can tell she’s doing everything she can to try and gather herself, and I can feel my cock stirring in my pants at the sight of her so close to losing control.
After seeing her chat with those other men all night—even if that’s exactly what she was there to do—I want her to tell me how much she wants me.
I want to hear it from her own lips, how badly she needs this, that she will do just about anything to show me that she belongs to me.
“I…I want your mouth on my pussy,” she finally breathes, her hips rising again. And this time, I give her what she’s asking for, pressing my tongue against her clit, carving open her lips so I can find her clit and centering all my attention on her slick pussy.
Her musk fills my senses, the sweetness of it addictive. This is what I want to get drunk on, not the liquor downstairs, but the taste of her in my mouth, the sound she makes when I finally give her what she has been waiting for.
I stroke against her clit a few times, flattening my tongue, and flick my gaze up to watch her as I tease her with my mouth.
Her hands are gripping mine tightly, nails digging into my skin, like she’s trying to find some way to work out the tension that’s already building inside of her.
The dress I bought her is pushed to her waist, leaving her lower body on display, and I pause for a moment, pulling back to admire the thickness of her thighs on either side of me, the soft rise and fall of her belly as she draws in deep breaths over and over again.
“Fuck, you look good,” I growl, before I dive back into her pussy, twirling my tongue around her clit before I draw her between my lips and start to apply a gentle sucking pressure.
She moans loudly, her hips shuddering below me, and I know I’ve hit the exact spot she was waiting for.