Page 89 of Cruel Russian King
I’d hired a photographer, Kimberly Frazier, to do a maternity shoot for Ninel. The yacht was dressed in roses, petals, and candlelight. Waiting inside were diamond necklaces,bracelets, and rings for her to wear during the shoot, along with dresses, lingerie and bikinis I’d chosen myself.
When we pulled into the dock, I kissed her awake.
“We’re here.”
She blinked, looking around. “Here where?”
“I set up a photoshoot for you.” I stepped out, rounded the car, and helped her gently to her feet.
We walked towards the yacht, Ruslan trailing us. When we got there Kimberly stood waiting, a bag slung on her shoulder.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rykov, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted.
We shook her hand.
“Shall we?”
Kimberly stepped onto the yacht first, followed by Ruslan. I guided Ninel aboard and came in behind her.
While Ruslan remained on the main floor, Kimberly, Ninel, and I went up.
“Artyom, this is gorgeous,” she whispered, taking in the flowers, candlelight, and gifts set out in the bedroom.
I lifted her hand to my lips. “Anything for you. Shall we get started?”
For the next two hours, I watched Kimberly guide Ninel through her poses. She was a natural, slipping easily between sweet and sultry to smoking and fucking hot. Some shots were teasing, others far more seductive, showing just enough skin to toe the line. Photos were taken by the railing, on the deck, and in the bedroom.
The bedroom shots were my undoing. My cock stayed hard the entire time, every pose she did feeding the hunger I barely kept in check.
I joined her for a few frames. My favorite was taken in the bedroom: Ninel sat on the bed in nothing but her panties, legs bent and tucked to the side. I was shirtless, chest pressed against her back, one arm loosely draped around her to cover her breasts, the other hand braced on the mattress. My chin rested on her shoulder, her head leaned into mine. Her right hand cradled my face while the other curved below her belly. Her hair was pulled into a high, messy bun, stray strands falling across her cheek. She looked like a fucking goddess.
For shots like that, Kimberly always waited outside until we’d taken our positions. Only then did she step in to capture the moment, because even though she was a woman, she would not live to tell a soul if she ever saw more of my wife’s body than I allowed.
After the photoshoot, I tucked Ninel into bed and told her to rest while I escorted Kimberly to the makeshift developing room on the yacht. Every piece of equipment she brought to take and print the photos would remain with me. I’d be damned if a single picture of my wife ever leaked to the public.
I sat behind Kimberly as she slipped on her headphones and worked, swaying lightly to the beat of her music while the images came to life. Different sizes. Different angles. My favorite shot I demanded in the largest size to hang above our bed, where I could see it every night.
When the last photo was finished, I paid Kimberly and told her that once the baby was born, I’d be in touch. Ruslan escorted her off the yacht while I made my way back to the bedroom.
I stripped out of my clothes and crawled between Ninel’s legs, parting her pussy lips with my tongue. It didn’t take long before her body arched with need, and throaty, breathless moans filled the cabin.
“Artyom…”
Her hand fisted in my hair, pulling rough, and I growled in response. Sliding two fingers inside her, her hips leapt off the bed. My tongue and lips stayed locked on her clit, teasing, sucking, nibbling…while my fingers drove into her, relentless. Her cries grew louder, rawer, each one fueling me. Good thing I’d soundproofed the cabin, because every scream, every moan belonged to me.
“Artyom!” she cried out, shattering in my hands. And even though the only part of me inside her had been my fingers and tongue, I came undone right with her.
I moved up her body, pressing my forehead to hers.
“I love you, Mrs. Rykov. Thank you for wanting forever with me.”
Her lips brushed mine, softly. “I love you more, Mr. Rykov. Thank you for choosing me to do forever with.”
I pulled her into my arms, holding her close as her breathing slowed, and her eyes fluttered shut. I closed mine too, knowing with absolute certainty that I was the luckiest Bratva bastard on the face of the earth.
*****
THE END
