Page 23 of Beautiful Monster

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, watching as she struggles to focus, her eyes hazy with pleasure. Her chest heaves with each breath, her lips parted and swollen from our kisses. She's never looked more beautiful—disheveled and satisfied, sprawled across my dining table like the feast she is.

"Still think I only want you for your money?" I ask, my voice rough with restrained desire.

A surprised laugh escapes her, and she covers her face with her hands. "I don't know what to think anymore."

I gently pull her hands away, needing to see her. "Think that you're mine now. In every way that matters."

Something flickers in her eyes—not quite surrender, but acceptance. She reaches for me, drawing me down for a kiss that tastes of her own pleasure and something deeper, something dangerous.

"And are you mine?" she whispers against my lips, the question hanging between us like a challenge.

The honest answer terrifies me. Instead, I brush my thumb across my wife's lower lip and say, "Let's get you to bed,kisa. The night is far from over."

Chapter 10

Mikhail

Ilift her from the table and carry her through the shadowed hallway. The candlelight from the dining room fades behind us, leaving only the intermittent lightning to illuminate our path. Her head rests against my shoulder, and I can feel the rapid flutter of her pulse against my throat.

My bedroom door opens with a soft creak. I've never brought a woman here—this space has always been sacred, untouchable. Even Alina had her own room. But Kira... Kira belongs here, in my bed.

I set her down beside the massive four-poster bed, her bare feet silent on the Persian rug. The storm's fury continues outside, rain pelting the windows like bullets. She looks up at me with those blue eyes, still dazed from pleasure but alert, waiting.

"Kneel," I command softly, my voice cutting through the thunder.

She hesitates for only a moment before sinking gracefully to her knees on the plush carpet. The sight of her there, hair tumbled around her shoulders, dress askew, sends liquid fire through my veins.

I reach for my belt, watching her face. "Have you ever seen a man's cock?"

Her cheeks flush deeper. "Never... not in the flesh."

The admission makes me harder if that's even possible. I free myself slowly, letting her absorb the sight of me. Her eyes widen, and I see the flicker of uncertainty cross her features.

"Take it in your mouth," I instruct, threading my fingers through her auburn hair. "Use your tongue. Your lips."

She reaches for me with trembling fingers, her touch feather-light as she explores. When her lips finally part around the head of my cock, I have to grip the bedpost to stay upright. She's clumsy at first, uncertain, but eager to please.

"That's it," I growl, guiding her movements. "Open wider."

She struggles with my size, her jaw stretching to accommodate me, but she doesn't pull away. The wet heat of her mouth, the tentative swirl of her tongue—it's exquisite torture. Her hands rest on my thighs, nails digging in as she finds her rhythm.

Lightning illuminates the room in stark white, casting her in sharp relief—this woman who's brought me to my knees while kneeling at my feet.

I cradle her head in my palms, feeling the delicate curve of her skull beneath my fingers. Her hair spills like liquid fire between my knuckles. Each inexperienced stroke of her tongue sends shockwaves through my body—all the more potent for her innocence.

"Look at me," I command.

Her eyes flick upward, meeting mine through the veil of her lashes. The vulnerability, combined with determination, threatens to undo me completely. She's fighting to take more of me, her throat constricting as she pushes past her comfort.

I ease back slightly. "Breathe through your nose,kisa."

She adjusts and follows my instructions with the same quick intelligence I've glimpsed in business negotiations. The thoughtthat she applies this focus to pleasuring me makes my cock throb against her tongue.

Outside, the storm mirrors the tempest in my blood. Rain lashes the windows in sheets, and thunder cracks so loudly that the crystal decanter on my nightstand trembles. But nothing—not the elements, not the empire waiting beyond these walls—compares to the sight of my wife on her knees before me.

Her confidence grows with each passing moment. She hollows her cheeks, creating a suction that draws a guttural sound from deep in my chest. Her hands, previously uncertain, now explore with greater boldness—one bracing against my thigh, the other tentatively cupping my balls.

"You're a fast learner," I growl, tightening my grip on her hair.

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