Bartered Surrender: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 9 (A BDSM Erotic Romance) (2 page)

My heart hurt. “And why did you want a wife?” I asked him.

He turned and looked at me. His green eyes were so deep, so intense. Just like the eyes I gave him in my sculpture. I wanted to fall into them.

“I wanted someone to give a shit about me, I suppose,” he said. I heard the lump in his throat. It was the most raw and honest thing I'd ever heard him say.

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. “
I
give a shit about you,” I said.

His smile turned wry. “I know you do, Felicia. I give a shit about you, too.”

We're so romantic. They should make movies about us.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Then I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him so fiercely he started to cough. Only when he tapped my shoulder did I back off.

I pulled back, but not too far. His face hovered in front of me, warm and full-lipped, beautiful and guarded. Reaching up, I wove my fingers through his luxurious hair and pulled him down until our foreheads touched.

“Anton,” I said, “I don't want a marriage of convenience. I think we're beyond that now, anyway.”

He swallowed. “Yes. Most likely.” He paused. “Your piece... the piece you just made... that was us, wasn't it?”

I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Yup.”

“It was amazing. Sadie made sure I saw all the best pictures.” He sighed. “Is that how you truly feel?”

I nodded against him.

“It was amazing,” he said again. For a long moment, I felt other words hovering at the edge of his tongue. “I hurt you,” he continued finally. “I didn't mean to. I should have said something when I realized you had agreed to our marriage under false pretenses. But I didn't know how to do it. The drama...” He trailed off, but I knew exactly what he meant.

“Fuck my parents,” I said. “Fuck that drama. Where's your family?”

He gave a tiny laugh without humor. “Once I started making a name for myself they recognized me and started coming around for money. I paid them off, made them sign contracts saying they would never contact me again, and sent them to live in Mexico.”

Smart. Really smart.
I should do that,
I thought.
Put that shit on my to-do list.
“Good. Fuck those guys, too. Fuck it all. I don't care about them, and I don't need to know your original name. You're Anton to me. You've never been anyone else. And you weren't the one who told me my mom was dying.”

“I didn't tell you that I knew she wasn't.” He sounded pained.

He was so dense. It was adorable. “And why didn't you do that when you found out?” I said.

He seemed to think about this for a long time. “Because... I suppose because I didn't want you to leave,” he said, and surprise colored his voice. He pulled me close, his arms around me tightening.

“Felicia,” he said. “Don't leave.”

“Ugh. Don't get all sentimental on me,” I told him, and kissed him.

Our lips met, for the first time as equals, and yet the fire that had consumed us was undimmed. Even more, it now had a sharp, sweet edge to it, an edge that sliced right through my heart. Urgently I kissed Anton, and he responded eagerly. His hands, rough and hungry, roamed my body, warming me, filling me up even as my heart spilled out. I parted my lips, and his tongue slipped inside my mouth, tangling with mine. No longer did we fight for dominance, but together we stroked and licked, dancing. The desire I had held for him the entire time we were apart flared up, embers reigniting with his breath.

"Anton," I whispered. "Anton, please."

I didn't know what I was asking for, only that it was out of my reach without him. Then he was pulling me into his lap and we were a jumble, hands and arms and legs, lips falling where they may in fevered kisses, and his hard, warm chest against mine filled me with anticipation. My greedy mouth ran over his throat, and his pulse hammered out of control. My legs hooked around his waist and I moved over him, restless and starving for him. His cock, already hard as a diamond, pushed up into the soft, hot hollow of my pussy. We fit together, sweet and hard, and I wanted to sob with happiness.

Anton lifted me, my legs still locked around his waist, and carried me out of the gallery and up the stairs as my teeth found his earlobe and bit down. I wanted to devour him, wanted him to devour me. I let my tongue wander the folds of his ear and he groaned and trembled, sagging against the wall of the foyer when at last he reached it. His hands on my ass gripped me with bruising force, opening my pussy lips and parting my buttocks, exposing my empty places. I needed to be filled, and quickly. Pushing away from him, I climbed down and grabbed his hand. Together we ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Each step rubbed my thighs together, and my pussy, wet and slick with desire, shivered with the friction.

We barely made it in the door before Anton fell on me, and we went down to the floor. The hard wood jarred me, and I was trapped between two hard things. Above me Anton bent his head to my throat, his hands moving the hem of my sweatshirt up over my stomach, his thumbs stroking the muscles there, and I moaned and bucked against him. I needed him inside me. I needed all of him.

His hands found my breasts, covered them, squeezed, and I cried out. My eyes unfocused with the strength of my desire, my whole body a clinging, wanting thing, with no reason, no inhibitions at last. I wanted to love Anton. I wanted to know him. And he had let me in, just a little bit. The first step.

It was enough for me for now. We were married, after all. We had the rest of our lives to figure it out.

We wrestled on the floor, Anton flipping me over onto my stomach. The control that had always been there had loosened, and he was a man run wild, his hands everywhere, hooking into my pussy through my jeans, his erection grinding against the swell of my ass. I groaned and pushed back into him, begging him to take me however he wanted me, but he couldn't seem to get enough of touching me. As if he had been starving for a month, lost without being able to hold me, fuck me, do with me as he pleased. I reveled in it, in the proof of his need for me. He was in deep, and so was I.

Reaching back, I ripped my shirt off, leaving it on the floor, and his hands unhooked my bra in record time, letting my breasts bounce free. His hands were on them in seconds, rough and possessive, my nipples scraping over his palms as he squeezed, pain and pleasure mingling inside me. He nudged my ass with his hips, his erection working its way between my ass cheeks.

"Fuck me," I moaned. "Please, Anton."

"Felicia." It came out as a grunt, and then he was hooking his arms around me, between my breasts and under my thigh, lifting me up from the floor. The world tipped and turned, and then I was landing on the bed, the softness reaching up to embrace me.

He slipped my shoes and socks off before his hands fell to my waistband, ripping the button from its hole, unzipping my jeans. With a quick, sudden tug I was only in my panties.

"I want to tie you up," he said. "I want to do so many things to you."

"Do them," I said. "I trust you."

A pained look crossed his face. "Thank you," he said, and he lowered his face to mine, capturing my lips in another kiss as his hands wandered to my panties. He moved the fabric aside, dipping his fingertips past my pussy lips, exploring my slippery cunt. His skin burned through his clothes, and I reached up, running my hands up over his hard shoulders, down his chest, crooking my fingers and catching his nipples through the soft fabric of his sweater. He hissed as I tugged at the hem of his undershirt, and the hand that wasn't probing my pussy came up and grabbed my hair. "Felicia," he said, his voice hoarse. "You don't know what you do to me."

His scent filled my nose--warm and rich, the smell of fine fabrics and expensive aftershave, and under that the wild smell of a man who wanted nothing more than to lose control.

He flipped me over onto my stomach, his hot mouth descending on my spine. Frantically he sucked and nipped his way down my back, and I writhed under him as his hands squeezed and worked my ass through the cotton of my panties. When at last he reached my waist, I felt the scrape of teeth over my skin and he was tugging my panties away with his mouth.

I lifted my hips to make it easier for him, and he dipped his tongue into the crack of my ass, making me gasp. Reaching up he worked my underwear off the rest of the way as he rimmed my tight asshole, his tongue dipping and probing inside me. Embarrassment flooded me, but also arousal. He didn't care. He wanted me completely, no matter what the cost. His fingers found my pussy, and then he was pumping away at my cunt as he tongued my asshole.

My hands gripped the comforter, twisting the cool fabric into bunches as he fucked me with his hands and his mouth. It had been so long, so many nights spent thinking about fucking him, spent trying to please myself and failing, that I was already quivering around him, my body galloping toward a violent release. I was no longer in control of myself. I was completely and utterly his, and I never wanted it to be otherwise.

"Anton!" I cried into the comforter. "Anton, please, Anton, Anton, Anton--"

"Fellicia," he murmured into my skin, and inside me he curled his fingers and pulled.

My orgasm flowed over me in waves, pulling and tugging like a riptide, sucking me under. I shrieked into the mattress, my whole body thrashing as his fingers fucked me and his mouth sucked at the tight ring of nerves between the full mounds of my ass. He held onto me, his free hand snaking over my thighs, keeping me still under his ministrations as I came. But even as the pleasure subsided and my orgasm retreated, I felt unsatisfied. I needed him in me. I needed him to come in me, to reclaim me.

"Anton," I said. "Anton, do whatever you want with me."

He withdrew, and the cool air hit my wet, tight entrance, making it quiver. His fingers still pumped inside my pussy, and I just wanted to follow them wherever they went. "Are you sure?" he asked me.

"I'm your wife," I said. "And I trust you. Please, take me."

His free hand smoothed over my stomach as he rose up and curled his body over mine. "Felicia," he said, and his voice quavered very slightly. He was touched by my trust. I knew he wanted to be with me, and only his fear of losing me, of losing what we could be, had caused him to keep secrets from me. But it was okay. It was okay.

After a moment, he retreated and cool air hit me again. Just hearing him move across the bed made me quiver, knowing that he would do what he wanted with me and I would let him.

"Get up," he said, and I did, making sure I kept my ass in the air so he had a nice eyeful of his favorite places. When my feet touched the cold floorboards, I straightened and stood, knowing instinctively that I shouldn't turn around unless he instructed me to do so. Wood scraped over wood as he opened a drawer in the bedside table.

"Turn.

I turned.

Anton stood before me, his green eyes glittering, his powerful body filled with his self-control. I wanted nothing more than to help him find his release through controlling me. I lowered my eyes and let my gaze rest on the bulge in his trousers. His cock strained against the fabric, and I imagined tracing it with my mouth, nipping him through his boxers, making him come in his pants without ever directly touching his cock. Then I realized he held something at his side. A thick coil of rope.

Ah. So he was going to tie me up. He'd never done it with rope before.

He stepped forward and looped the rope around my neck. Licking my lips, I tried to control my breathing, but my heart picked up the pace and so did my lungs. With exaggerated care, Anton tied the rope in knots--one knot, two knots, three knots--traveling down my body in a line. The backs of his hands brushed over my skin, the barest of touches as he tied the rope. More knots, then he let the rope fall, its incredible length pooling on the floor at my feet.

"Step forward," he said.

I obeyed, maneuvering so I straddled the rope. He made a pleased noise, then circled me. I felt him behind me, his incredible presence impossible to mistake or ignore, and closed my eyes. Between my legs I felt my pulse fluttering as he crouched down. The rope brushed over my skin as he fiddled with it, then he was pulling it back and up, laying the two long tails of the rope on either side of my pussy lips. My mouth went dry as he pulled the rope up through the crack of my ass and began to loop it around over my skin, weaving the ends in and out of the spaces between the knots at the front of my body. The rope slipped and slithered over me, an intimate extension of his touch.

"Put your arms behind you," he said. I did so.

His hand landed on  my ass in a sharp spank, and I jumped and gasped, my pussy flooding with moisture. "You've seen this before," he said. "Fold them behind you."

Swallowing hard, I did as I was told, laying one forearm against the other, and he bound them together, tying the rope around and around me in loops until my back arched. The ropes tied my breasts down, making them bulge, and I was utterly immobilized from the waist up.

"On your knees," Anton said.

Shakily, I lowered myself to the ground, my balance gone now that my upper body had been bound. I knelt on the floor as Anton's hand drifted over his erection, still hidden in his trousers. Lazily, he undid the button, and the slice of the zipper coming undone scraped over my ears, sending shivers up and down my spine. Reaching inside his pants, Anton pulled his cock out.

It was huge. Bigger than I remembered, and hard as an iron bar, jutting out to meet me. I licked my lips as Anton stepped forward.

"Suck it," he told me.

I opened my mouth and placed it around his rod, closing my eyes in relief. He tasted good, hot and hard and heavy against my tongue, the sweet musk of his skin filling my nose. Pressing my lips around the head, I pushed forward and took as much of it as I could inside my mouth. Then I swallowed and gave it a long, slow suck.

In front of me, Anton swayed on his feet, the sensation of my lips on his cock too much for him. He'd missed me as much as I'd missed him, and he confirmed my suspicions with a groan that sounded like it had been dredged up from the depths of his belly. I pressed forward again and again, swallowing his cock, hard and forceful, as though I could pull the skin off with just the strength of my mouth, and Anton trembled with each slow, torturous suck.