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“We’re going up? I thought this was the penthouse.”
“This is a penthouse, Zaika. I own the penthouse.”
There was a difference. And I learned what it was the second the elevator opened the opposite from where we’d entered. Gleaming wood floors, expensive, sleek furniture. But nothing compared to the dazzling view of New York City through the floor to ceiling windows that made up the entire front wall.
“Oh my,” I whispered, stunned into silence.
Central Park, Columbus Circle, everything looked so close yet so small. I could even see clear to the Hudson River. Nerves assailed me for the first time since I was in his presence, and it was all because of one body of water. My entire life I tried to get away from my humble beginnings, but there it was, staring me right in the face.
It wasn’t that I was ashamed of where I came from. I had a great family. One of those huge Italian clans where the grandparents came over after the war and bought a building or two back in the 50s in North Bergen. They still owned it, though Grandpa Paolo died when I was in high school.
Most of my family still lived there, my father included. Mama passed just two years ago, and he was still buried in a bottle with Nonna looking after him. No, I wasn’t ashamed, but it was a long way from Kennedy Boulevard to Billionaire’s Row.
“You want a drink?” he asked, and I noticed his accent was a little more pronounced than it had been earlier.
In fact, I hadn’t noticed a trace of it until he’d asked me if I wanted him to hurt that creep. I knew it shouldn’t have turned me on, but it did. I was used to fighting my own battles, but it was nice to know chivalry was not dead.
“Um, sure,” I replied, accepting the glass of wine he held out.
“Should we toast to something?”
“How about knights in, well, I was going to say shining armor, but tailored tuxes has a nice ring, doesn’t it?” I replied.
“This is a suit, not a tuxedo.”
He took a sip of what I thought might be whiskey before placing it on a very chic glass table. He took my wine glass from my hand after I’d sipped the rich, sweet liquid, and placed it beside his glass. Then he stepped closer, invading my space.
“I know. Um, are you always so literal?” I asked, trying not to wince at how breathless I sounded.
“Understanding things is very important to me. I do not like for there to be miscommunications. This dress, is it yours?” he asked.
“That’s a strange question,” I said, frowning.
“I ask because the straps are too big. If it were yours, I’d suggest you find a new seamstress or tailor,” he whispered.
He ran his fingers across my neck, tracing my clavicle, and up over my shoulder, lifting the strap I’d been toying with half the night. One tug and the thing fell down. He treated the other side to more of the same, and by that time my eyes were half closed as I swayed towards him.
“Your skin is like silk, Zaika. I would like to see more of it.”
I don’t know when he started kissing me, but honestly, once our mouths met it was like fireworks went off, planets collided, and maybe whole universes were created with that simple joining of lips. I’d had quite an enthusiastic Physics teacher in high school. The woman sure loved to lecture about atoms.
“So soft,” he growled into my mouth, and every brain cell I had just incinerated.
Next, we were moving against each other. Hands roamed, clothing came off, mouths crashed together, teeth nipped, and I moaned, leaning into every caress and pet he offered. The room was heated, but goosebumps broke out across my skin as he bent down and removed my dress.
“So beautiful,” he groaned, stepping back, and staring at me as I stood before him in nothing but my heels.
I trembled, awareness spiking. It didn’t seem to matter to him that I carried an extra thirty pounds or so, especially in my breasts, hips, and ass. In fact, the big, sexy Russian seemed to like those parts of me best. My soft belly and thick thighs didn’t put him off, and when he reached for me, I felt his desire like it was a living thing.
He walked backwards till he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, keeping me standing before him like some sort of pagan sacrifice. I grabbed onto his head as his lips explored my sensitive body. He sucked my nipples into his hot mouth, biting the tips. I moaned louder, arching my back in an effort to get closer to him.
The heat between us increased another ten degrees, and my sex throbbed and clenched, needing something more. As if he knew exactly what I wanted, my sexy soon to be lover growled out some words in Russian and bit my skin, trailing his tongue down my belly and towards the apex of my thighs.
Even standing in front of him in high heels, with him sitting down on the couch, he was so tall Adrik had to lean over to get to my goodies. Fucking hell, it felt so good when his big tongue lapped at my seam. He put his hands on my thighs, spreading my legs so he could access my now dripping core and I almost lost it right then and there.
It was crazy, foolish, reckless of me to let him continue. Completely wild, and unusual behavior. But maybe that was why I didn’t stop him. How many times in my life was a man like him going to treat me like I was some kind of sex goddess?
Once. Exactly once. And that was why when he picked me up, his big body leaning back as he draped my legs over his shoulders so I could ride his face, I did not hesitate. I was completely on board with Adrik Volkov’s plans to make every carnal fantasy I’ve ever had come true that night.
