The Billionaire's Wife Page 15

  "Nothing goes with orange," she said. "Why not pink?"

  "I like orange."

  Her lips thinned and she seemed to be sizing me up. "I think cream would work best. Cream with a tinge of pink. Orange is too gauche for a wedding, and cream with a tinge of pink is almost orange."

  Almost orange is not orange! I wanted to scream. I didn't even care about colors, but now I wanted orange because I wanted my orange roses, goddammit, and why did I care so much now? It didn't even matter because I was already fucking married.

  She was just going to push and push and get her way. I'd already had a wedding. And, I realized, it had at least been my wedding. I'd walked down that aisle with a vibrating bullet against my clit and my husband-to-be bringing me to climax, and while no little girl had ever dreamed of a wedding like that, it had been between Anton and me, and that was what had mattered. It was all kinds of fucked up, but it was my fucked up. This was for my mom, and she had cancer for God's sake. Why was I even thinking of fighting with her?

  "Sure," I said. "Fine. Cream with pink."

  My mother beamed at me. "It will go lovely with your coloring," she said.

  I sighed. "I know."

  My mother turned to Anton. "Cream with pink, yes?"

  He shrugged. "Whatever my lovely wife wants."

  I cringed inwardly, but I shot him a glare. He merely watched me as, next to him, my mother flitted and fluttered between choices. Invitations, favors, flowers, decorations—all flowed past me, out of my control.

  All of it was out of my control.

  *

  For the tenth time in fifteen minutes my mother checked her watch. The service at the bistro Anton had brought us to was far too slow for her liking.

  "Do you have to be somewhere?" Anton asked her, all politeness and courtesy.

  She started, but recovered quickly. She looked tired. "Yes," she said. "I have an appointment to go to."

  "Please, don't let us keep you waiting."

  As if she were afraid of leaving me alone with him, my mother glanced at me, a guarded look on her face. "Well," she said, dragging the word out, "I suppose. If it's all right with you, Felicia?"

  God, please, I thought. "It's not a problem," I said. Then, because it was getting too much for me, I said, "What appointment do you have?"

  For a moment she was flustered. "Oh!" she said, waving a hand. "Just a doctor's appointment."

  I raised my eyebrows. "In the city? Is something wrong?" Just tell me. Christ.

  But she just shook her head. "No, it's nothing." Standing up, she gathered her purse and coat, then leaned over and gave me a kiss. The cloying scent of her perfume clogged my nostrils, but I held my breath and hugged her back. "I'll see you later today. Don't forget to go dress shopping."

  I nodded. Like hell I was going dress shopping. It hadn't ended very well the last time I'd gone. Maybe Sadie wanted to go drinking with me...

  The moment my mother was gone, Anton turned to me. "Are you hungry, Felicia?" he asked.

  I looked at him in surprise, mostly because I hadn't expected him to be so perceptive. "Actually, I'm not," I confessed. Who knew getting run over all roughshod could wreck an appetite?

  "Then perhaps I should take you home."

  I gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

  "I have to get back to work," he said, "so I will drop you off."

  Oh. Oh, that's why. Oh well. I knew it was going to be like this when I married him. No big deal.

  We rode home in silence, but when the car stopped in front of the house—my house, it was my house now—he got out of the car with me and held the door as I dragged myself inside.

  A note on the kitchen table from my father informed me that we were alone in the house—no doubt he'd run off to do some kind of work as well, or perhaps was going to meet my mother at her appointment—and for the first time since the night before I felt as though I could relax.

  Except for the fact that Anton lingered in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and watching me.

  "What?" I said. I was too tired to even try to be polite with him. "Don't you have to go back to work?"

  "That can wait for a bit," he said.

  I stared at him, not really understanding. "Okay," I said finally. "So... what? You want a quickie before you go back?"

  "Well, yes," he admitted, "but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

  At least he was honest. I arched a brow at him, encouraging him to continue.

  For the first time, I saw him truly hesitate, as though he were about to jump into water with depth unknown.

  "Do your parents always walk all over you like that?" he asked me at last.

  I laughed. "Oh, you noticed?" I said. I gave him a shrug. "I'm their only kid. My dad thinks I'm an asset and my mom thinks I'm a doll she can dress up."

  He frowned faintly. "And you let them?"

  I sighed and began to unbutton my coat. "I was doing pretty well keeping them off my back until you came into the picture," I said, then realized what I'd said. I put a hand over my mouth. "Oh, sorry," I said. "I didn't really mean it like that."

  "Oh? Then how did you mean it?"

  To my relief, he didn't seem angry. I rubbed my forehead and tried to think through the sleep-deprived fog shrouding my brain. "I mean that my life got very complicated. I didn't really talk to my dad before he showed up on my doorstep telling me I needed to marry you. And I hadn't seen my mother in a while. I talked to her on the phone once a week, but she lived in California and I lived here. There was distance." And I had liked that distance. Yeah, working long hours at the bar sucked and eating ramen five nights a week was terrible for me, but it was my shitty life and I'd been mostly free of their drama and control. But all that progress was turned back now, and I was back in the same place I had been in before I'd left home.

  I shook my head. "It's not like they beat me or abused me or something," I said. "They just weren't great to have around. And now they're around again. I can't get away."

  Anton pushed away from the door and came to stand in front of me as I shucked my coat from my shoulders and laid it over the nearest chair. "I don't think that's true," he said.

  I tried not to roll my eyes at him and failed. "Oh yeah?" I said. "Well, you aren't me. I'm not you. I can't just command everyone to do my bidding with a word and a glance of those come-hither eyes."

  "You think I have come-hither eyes?" he said, amused.

  "Don't push it," I told him.

  Anton smiled, real and genuine, not his Zen smile. He was amazing when he smiled. "You do have power, Felicia," he said. "You only have to learn to use it."

  I shook my head. "I don't know how."

  His face softened. Without warning, he reached out and pulled me to him. I stumbled, startled, against his chest, my hands coming up to brace myself, but the sensation of his hard body against the palms of my hands had me pausing, lingering, savoring.

  His fingers trailed over my back, up my arms, and I listed into him, tilting my head back.

  He gazed down at me with intense, green eyes, fixated on my lips. His hands slid up and up, until he cradled my head in his hands. A thumb alighted on my lips.

  "Your voice," he said. "You must use your voice. Speak and make yourself be heard."

  His other hand abandoned my face, slipping down my arm and coming up to cover my fingers where they lay against his chest. "And if people will not listen to you, you must do what you must. Use these hands. I've seen your art—there is power in you. Build your own life, Felicia."

  Tears stung my eyes. How could he say such things to me? I had been coerced into marrying him. Nothing was mine any longer.

  He seemed to read my mind, or perhaps my thoughts were plain on my face. Leaning in, he rested his forehead against mine.

  "I am not the enemy, Felicia. I am your companion, as you are mine. I may have... acquired you in an unconventional way, but I wanted a wife. And you acquired me in the bargain."
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  I closed my eyes. My heart hurt in my chest, as though it had been rubbed raw.

  Anton drew me closer, and I felt the stirrings of his arousal against my belly. I inhaled sharply.

  "You can say no," he said. His voice vibrated in my skin, in my bones. "You always have the last say. I'll not be a rapist."

  I swallowed, hard. "I don't want to say no," I said. "Please, just make me come." Wipe it away. Make me forget for a little while.

  "Gladly," he breathed.

  He kissed me then, and I flung myself into him, into the feeling of his arms around me, his lips on mine. For the first time, there was a tenderness to his possession, a sweetness to his dominance. It reached deep inside me and touched my heart. So much kept us apart, but his strength buoyed me up, kept me afloat. If I could keep my head above water, we could become something.

  But for now, I was content to be his.

  Slowly, deliberately, he broke away from my mouth and placed a kiss on my chin, over my jaw. His hands turned me in his embrace, his lips trailing down over my throat to top of my spine. Reaching up, he swept my hair to the side and planted a kiss in the hollow of my neck and I shivered, my sex melting in anticipation.

  With gentle hands he guided me to the stairs, and with each step I mounted my thighs rubbed against my aching pussy, sending tremors of pleasure through my body. He touched me as we climbed the narrow stairway, his hand slipping over my ass, between my legs, and by the time we reached his room I was breathless with anticipation.

  He undressed me, slowly, standing back to admire me as, one by one, my clothes gathered on the floor. I stood there and let him, my desire building with every sweep of his eyes over my body. At last, when I was fully nude, he stepped away and surveyed me.

  "You are lovely," he said.

  I closed my eyes.

  His footsteps echoed on the floor, and a drawer scraped open. Then he returned to my side and soft cloth whispered over my skin as he tied a blindfold over my eyes.

  In the darkness inside my head, I trembled with want. My whole body, sore still from last night's fucking, stood at attention, and my ears strained to hear his movements.

  Warm hands alighted on my shoulders, and he moved me backwards until the backs of my legs hit the bed. I sat, and he tipped me over until I was fully supine. His hands slid over my breasts, catching my waist, slipping against my stomach, and I arched into him. One finger ran down my slit, then retreated.

  Something cool and smooth pressed against my tender entrance, and I forced myself to relax. It slipped past my pussy lips and snuggled against my g-spot, curving up and over my mound. A double vibrator. Ridges rubbed against my clit.

  Anton turned it on. I came alive.

  His hands traveled over my skin as the toy between my legs ruthlessly teased pleasure from my body. His mouth suckled at my breasts, the cotton of his shirt and trousers scraping erotically over my flesh as he covered my body with his. Mindlessly I thrust against him, needing him inside me, and he turned me over, pulling my hips back until I was kneeling on the bed, my face in the blankets, my pussy dancing with vibration.

  Hot breath gathered in the crack of my ass. I stiffened for a moment, but when his tongue, hot and probing, laved my asshole, I moaned. With practiced hands, he carefully prepared me, pushing in and retreating, relaxing the tight ring of muscle until I couldn't take it any more.

  "Fuck my ass," I begged. "Fuck me, please."

  "Always, Felicia," he said, and then his whole mouth was devouring my ass, hot and wet, until abruptly it retreated, only to be replaced by the soft head of his cock nestling against my tight hole.

  He pushed forward and I moaned. Slowly, inexorably he filled my ass, until I was plugged in both holes, his hot cock stretching me until I thought I would break. Almost sweetly, he began to move inside me, his hips nudging my ass, first in small thrusts, then deeper and deeper until I cried out. Reaching around between my legs, he massaged the vibe over my clit and g-spot, quickly, smoothly, until I didn't even know my name any more. All I knew was Anton's body, Anton's lips on my back, Anton's hands on my breasts, Anton's cock in my ass, Anton, Anton, Anton—

  "Anton!"

  "Felicia," he growled, and then I was coming, coming undone, and he caught me in his iron control, and I spasmed around his thick shaft as he pumped in and out of my ass, my limbs jerking, my pussy contracting, until he grunted and pulled out, shooting warm spurts of his seed over my back.

  When my body was finally spent, he removed the vibrator from my pussy and cleaned me as I lay on the bed, the blindfold still around my eyes. Then he tucked me into bed, kissed me on the cheek, and tiptoed from the room.

  I let myself sleep, swaddled in his care.

  Chapter Seven:

  Bartered Pain

  The Delegate's Dining Room at the United Nations. That's where I was standing.

  Floor to ceiling windows surrounded us. The sun had come out from behind the clouds this morning, cascading warmth through the glass and filling the room with light.

  “This place is huge,” I said.

  Next to me, Anton pursed his lips. “I suppose,” he mused. “Perhaps we'll be able to fit everyone in here. I still think Gotham Hall would be better. It has more capacity.”

  “I agree,” my mother said. “Absolutely all our friends and acquaintances will be invited. We want to make it the social event of the holiday season, and that means we need the most room possible. Right, Jonathan?” She turned to my father expectantly.

  My father nodded. His face looked a little gray at the thought of spending all the money he probably didn't even have yet on a wedding. The freeing up of his credit would happen at the end of the month, presumably, but until then he was betting on my mother's infamous inability to make a decision and stick with it. It's why she had at least two hundred pairs of shoes with 'back-ups' in a different color.

  I sighed. Already I was longing for the intense intimacy of our Las Vegas elopement. It had been frantic and unplanned and I had been utterly alone with Anton and two paid witnesses, but at least I hadn't had to make ten thousand decisions I couldn't possibly care about. Now we were scoping out reception and wedding areas, and I just wanted to throw myself through a window.

  It'd been a week since Anton had showed me the softer side of himself—the strong, powerful man I could lean on, rather than the predator who stalked me and longed only to possess my body—and each night had been strangely sweet. The only things I'd unpacked in 'my' bedroom were my clothes and makeup. My books were still boxed, my kitchen utensils were useless, and my bedding... well, I had yet to spend a night in my own bed, so it seemed rather pointless to take them out.

  In our day-to-day lives, however, it seemed like he was incapable of releasing his mask, at least in front of other people. He blandly agreed with my mother no matter what she said, and the rest of the time he was lost in la-la business land, no doubt wrapping up the particulars of acquiring my father's company. I didn't mind it, really. Our nights were enough for me at the moment. And when our nights bled into our days... Well, that was just a bonus.

  As though he read my mind, a sudden jolt of electricity seared through my nipples and I gasped. Warmth flooded between my legs. Pain and pleasure were beginning to mix in my head, and my body certainly didn't seem to mind it. I shot Anton a glare from the corner of my eye, but he just smiled serenely at me. This was his way of showing concern about my dysfunctional relationship with my parents: I could either endure punishment when I thought about speaking up but didn't, or I could just speak up, tell them to go away, and be left in peace.

  “It's not that simple,” I'd tried to tell him this morning when we'd dressed. “These are my parents. I can't just tell them to fuck off. My mom will be crushed if I don't have a wedding. And what if I tell her to fuck off and then she dies? What about that?”

  He'd paused in the process of placing the electric shock nipple clamps on my breasts, and I immediately felt bad. He was probably thinking about
his own dead parents. Great. Good going, Felicia.

  “What you do with your life is up to you,” he said finally. “You should talk to your mother about her illness.”

  “I can't,” I told him. “I—ooh, god—I, uh, I'm not supposed to know anything about it.” I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way Anton ran his thumb over my nipple, calling it to attention so he could get a better grip with the clamp. “Although I don't know how much longer I can play dumb. She goes to a 'doctor's appointment' every single day. At some point she's gotta know that I'm going to catch on... right?”

  He said nothing, merely put the nipple clamp in place and stared down at me with what I could have sworn was concern. Then he lifted the remote control for the electric clamps and gave me a zap that made my knees weak and my pussy melt. “Oh,” I breathed, and he reached out and caught me, swiping his tongue over my ear and nibbling at my earlobe before pushing me away.

  “Get dressed,” he said. “We have a lot to do today.”

  Mouth dry, I nodded and complied with his command.

  Now, in the UN Dining room, I was getting hornier by the second as Anton slipped his arm around me and rubbed small, seductive circles over my hip with his thumb as my mother chattered on and on about who was getting invited and who had incurred her wrath enough to be officially snubbed and how she was going to let those people know just how snubbed they were.

  Shut up, mom, I thought, then immediately felt guilty about it. But my god, she was killing my mood. Please, please be quiet.

  Another shock lanced through my breasts and I hissed through my teeth. The sound was loud enough to cut through my mother's list of people she felt obligated to invite to the reception, but that weren't special enough to go to the wedding. She gave me a sharp look.

  “Are you all right, Felicia?” she asked.

  Licking my lips, I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “I just, uh, I just have a headache—ah!”

  Electricity crackled over my nipples and my legs buckled.