by Vivian Gray
His mouth was warm and relentless, finding my sensitive bundle despite how wildly my hips were quaking and bucking. Then, just when I thought I had never felt so good, he slipped his tongue inside of me, and I almost blacked out. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on grinding against his face.
“Oh, God,” I moaned out, my body barely even touching the floor anymore. Every muscle was contracted, lifting and thrusting and clenching. I had never considered myself a moaner during sex, but the sounds coming out of me were hardly human. “Yes, Anton. God, yes.”
I sounded like the female lead in a porno, and with Anton taking such expert care of my body, I felt like it, too. As the orgasmic earthquake faded into aftershocks, I grabbed fistfuls of his thick dark hair, holding him there until the very last second, trying to soak up every sensation. Finally, I let go of him and collapsed onto the bedding in a breathless heap.
Anton crawled over my body, planting kisses as he went. On my belly button. Each breast. My collarbone. My chin. Each earlobe.
“Now, it is definitely your turn,” I said, jabbing him in the chest with a lazy finger.
“Of course, it is,” he said, smiling. “I’m not some kind of saint. You can’t have three orgasms before I even get one.”
I laughed and pushed on his shoulder until he landed in the blankets next to me. I threw my leg across his hips and crawled up, so I was straddling him, my hands on his chest. I slid my body across his length, watching as his muscles tensed, and then pushed my lip out in a pout.
“Well, I had big plans for this evening, but I guess if you only want one orgasm, then I can settle for that.”
Anton’s hands dug into my hips until it nearly hurt. His eyes were dark and feral. “I want as many as you can give me, baby.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Anton
I had never seen anyone more perfect. Bailey was soft and curvy and thick in all the right places. Watching her move on top of me left me practically insane. My hands couldn’t touch her fast enough. I wanted to feel her everywhere. I wanted to tug on her hair, dig into her hips, caress the smooth skin of her thighs, kiss the line under her jawbone, plow my fingers into her over and over again until she came yet again.
I couldn’t do any of that, though, because she had both of my hands pinned above my head.
And by ‘pinned’, I, of course, mean I allowed her to place my arms above my head. I could have broken free, but I liked when she was in charge. I liked watching her confidence in bed grow. I wanted her to tell me what she wanted. I wanted her to take it.
She kept her hands on my wrists, so her breasts were swaying inches from my face, and I leaned forward to take them in my mouth. She arched her back as I flicked my tongue across her nipples and then set her hips on my waist. However, because of the angle, my dick nestled perfectly between her pillowy ass cheeks. Unable to help myself, I thrusted up, massaging myself along the length of her.
I fell back into the blankets, her breasts forgotten. All I could focus on was the sensation of fucking her ass cheeks. Bailey moved her hips forward and back along my length, making my toes curl. As she stroked me, I pulled a hand free of her light grip and reached out for her stomach and then dipped lower, my thumb finding her sensitive spot. I rubbed it in time with her strokes until we were both panting and hungry. Bailey lifted herself off of me and then all at once, pressed me against her opening and slid down.
It felt like a drink of cold water after a lifetime in the desert. Finally. Finally, I felt her all around me.
She placed her hands on my chest and ground her hips down into me, moving in slow, sensual circles. Everything leading up to this had been a race. Seeing how many times we could climb to the edge of passion, how many times we could push one another over the edge. Now, however, we were celebrating. Reveling in the movement of our bodies, in the sensation of being together.
With other women, I always felt the need to dominate them, to let them know I was in control and, moreover, that I was the best fuck they would ever have. With Bailey, though, that pressure was gone. I didn’t have anything to prove to her. For the first time, I felt like I could be myself.
When I did finally come, I wrapped my arms around Bailey’s naked body and pulled her down onto me. I held onto her as my body released, shaking with pleasure. She kissed my neck and the stubble on my chin. She whispered softly in my ear, saying all the sweet things I never thought I’d hear from a woman. All the things that, even a few weeks before, I would have thrown a woman out of bed for saying.
But with Bailey, my heart practically burst with happiness.
“I love you,” she whispered, laying her head down on my chest while I was still inside of her, my orgasm reaching its end.
I kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Bailey
It didn’t take very long for Anton and me to decide it would be impossible to work together. The first day back to work after we’d made up, we had sex in his office twice, and he was late for an employee meeting he was meant to lead. Basically, we were incapable of keeping our hands off of one another.
Seeing him in his suit and sitting behind his desk did something to me. At home, I saw him in his cotton pajama pants, binge-watching television in bed, and sniffing containers of food in the fridge to decide whether they were expired or not. At work, though, he was all business. He took calls from all over the world and left messages for people in Russian.
After one call in which he’d shouted loudly in Russian and then slammed the phone down, I literally found myself with my hand pressed against my chest, my heart fluttering against my ribcage. It was so sexy. I’d never dated anyone who had a full grasp of the English language, so the fact that Anton knew English and Russian was a bizarre kind of turn on.
“Lots of people are bilingual,” he said later that night. “It’s not that special.”
“It is to me,” I purred out, straddling his hips.
The previous night we’d agreed that we would have a sex-free night the next evening. We’d been going at it like bunnies, and we both felt it would be a good idea to take a break before we both got burnt out. However, that was before I’d heard him speak Russian for the first time. It did something to me.
Anton placed his hands on my legs and shook his head. “We both promised last night.”
I ignored him, stripping my pajama shirt over my head and letting my breasts bounce free. I hovered over him, my lips just above his. “Speak dirty to me.”
Anton had very little willpower. I felt him growing hard between my legs, and he was already allowing his hands to roam up my sides towards my breasts.
“You’re so sexy, baby,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly.
I shook my head. “Not like that.”
He quirked up an eyebrow, clearly not accustomed to taking notes on his technique.
“In Russian,” I said, a wicked smile on my lips.
He reluctantly agreed, and though I had no idea what he was saying, I loved the way he said it. Within a few minutes, I was stretched out on the bed with my legs wrapped around his face and my hands grabbing fistfuls of the comforter.
“Da! Da! DA!” I shouted back at him, using the only Russian word I’d managed to pick up from our conversation before my mind had turned to mush thanks to his very skilled mouth.
A few days later, Anton handed me my morning cup of coffee and fired me.
“Are you firing me?” I asked, giving him a look of mock horror.
“Yes, but luckily the company has a very nice severance package,” he replied with a smile.
“I can’t believe you don’t want your girlfriend to be your personal assistant anymore. I was doing a great job.”
“Oh, God. Yes. You’ll never hear me say anything different. However, having quickies over lunch was never part of the job requirements,” he joked.
“So, I’m being punished for going above and beyond my duties?”
He str
oked my hair and leaned around me to kiss my cheek. “I really will miss seeing you all day every day, but I can’t focus when you’re there. Besides, I’m worried you’ll get sick of me if we spend all of our time together.”
I didn’t think it would be possible to ever get sick of spending time with Anton, but I didn’t need to tell him that. His head was big enough already without me inflating it even more.
“So, you have a friend who has a job opening?” I asked, moving on to a new subject.
“Yes. It’s another personal assistant job. She runs a fashion house in the city and needs someone to help her stay on top of things.”
“Oh, I’m great at staying on top of things.” I raised one eyebrow.
Anton’s cheeks flushed. I loved that it was so easy for me to fluster him.
“Anyway,” he said, looking at me with wide eyes so I’d know he was serious, “she told me she has had several assistants come in, all women from the fashion world who were desperate to show her their designs and put forward their ideas, and none of them worked out. She wants someone who doesn’t have a goal of one day designing their own line. She wants someone who is self-motivated, quick on their feet, and loyal. I told her you would be a perfect fit.”
“That sounds amazing,” I said, finally running out of witty things to say.
There was no way to joke about this opportunity. It was everything I could have hoped for. I’d lived in New York City my entire life, but I’d always been in the bottom tier. I’d never experienced New York the way people did in all the movies. It would be nice to finally trade in my ticket for the cheap seats for a space in the box. I wanted to get my taste of high society.
“You start in two weeks,” he said.
“Wait,” I said, holding up both hands to stop him. “I already have the job?”
He smiled. “She trusts me wholly. She said my recommendation was as good as gold and you were in.”
I jumped up from my stool and threw myself at him, nearly knocking him backward. “I cannot believe you are just now telling me this!”
“I wanted to make sure you were actually excited about it. I didn’t want you to accept the position just because you felt like you had to.”
I nodded. Then, I realized what he’d said. “Why do I start in two weeks? Why not on Monday?”
Anton took a deep breath and smiled. “I have another surprise for you.”
He reached into his back pocket, and my heart leaped into my throat. Was he about to propose? I loved him, I really did, but I wasn’t ready to be married. To him or anybody else. Plus, we’d only been dating for a few weeks. My head filled and overflowed with panicky thoughts as he slid a black folder across the table to me.
A black folder.
Not a little jewelry box.
I stared at the folder, trying to decide whether I was relieved or disappointed.
“Open it,” he insisted, tipping his head towards the mysterious folder.
I did as he said. The folder opened to reveal plane tickets to Riviera Maya, Mexico, and an all-inclusive resort reservation.
My head snapped up, eyebrows drawn together. “Are we going to Mexico?”
“For two weeks. We leave tomorrow,” he said, smiling. “If you want to, of course. I wanted to surprise you, but we don’t have to go.”
The photos inside the resort’s brochure made the place look extravagant. White sandy beaches, endless cocktails and margaritas, king-size beds looking over the ocean.
“This looks like it costs a fortune.” I knew Anton had plenty of money, but that didn’t make me any more comfortable with the idea of him buying me things constantly and paying for everything.
“That’s the other surprise. I paid for the trip using all the money I won in poker the night we met.”
I stared at him, mouth open. “You won enough to pay for an entire tropical vacation?”
He nodded. “I also won a girlfriend to accompany me.”
I leaned across the island to slap him, but he caught my hand and planted a kiss on the palm before I could, laughter filling his blue eyes.
“Sorry,” he said, still laughing and not looking sorry in the slightest. “I had to.”
I glared at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, this time a bit more serious. “Do you want to go with me?”
I looked down at the brochure again, trying my best to make him nervous. If he was going to joke about me being used as a human poker chip, the least I could do was make him think there was a possibility I’d turn down his incredibly romantic offer to whisk me off on a tropical vacation.
After a few seconds, however, I agreed with a simple shake of my head. Anton wrapped me up in an excited hug that I refused to return for a few seconds, doing my best not to smile until the effort sent me into a fit of giggles.
The resort was incredible. We ate fruit constantly. They served it in large bowls with every meal and speared it on wooden skewers and stuck it in our drinks. We also had sex. Like, a lot.
I thought we were setting records while working in the same office together but living in a vast suite that spanned one whole side of the resort, giving us a 360-degree view of the ocean and a front row seat to the sunrise and sunset every day, meant the mood was always set.
We would wake up in the morning and shower together. Anton would press me against the white tile shower until I screamed, and then he would gently lather me up with the locally sourced soap.
After breakfast, we would lounge on the beach, soaking up the sun and the surf, and then come back to the room for a mid-morning nap that usually turned into one or both of us diving beneath the sheets until the other climaxed. Then, we would restrain ourselves and stay out of the room until after dinner, when we would come back and barely make it through the door before our clothes were off.
The cleaning ladies who came to the room every afternoon definitely knew something was up. I didn’t know whether it was the countless condom wrappers they probably found in the trashcan or the piles of discarded and ripped clothes that seemed to always litter our room, but they definitely knew what we were up to all day.
One of the women wrote us a note congratulating us on our marriage. Happy Honeymooning, she wrote with a little winky-face inked next to it.
“She thinks we are on our honeymoon,” Anton said, holding up the notepad.
I shrugged. “We kind of are.”
“True,” he agreed. “The only thing we’re missing is the ring.”
I laid back on the bed and held my left hand up in the air, turning my head to both sides, trying to imagine myself with a wedding ring on.
“What are you doing?” Anton asked, laying down next to me.
“Trying to picture what my wedding ring will look like.”
He froze next to me, and I immediately dropped my hand.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I added. “I wasn’t trying to say I expect you to propose or anything. I just meant… one day… you know.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, one day.”
I groaned and ran my hands down my flushed face. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to hint at anything, Anton. I don’t expect us to be married anytime soon. I know we haven’t known one another very long, and we just started dating. I’m not crazy, I swear.”
“I never said I thought you were crazy; I thought you were psychic.”
His words took a few seconds to sink in, but when they finally did, I turned to see him reaching into his bedside table. Part of me expected him to return with another mysterious black envelope, but he didn’t. He turned and opened his hand to reveal a small black jewelry box. With the flick of his thumb, he opened it to reveal a circle-cut diamond set into a ring of smaller diamonds atop a thin white gold band. It was beautiful.
“I know we haven’t known one another very long, and we just started dating,” he said, repeating what I’d just said to him, a smile on his face, “but I love you more than anything in the world, Bailey, and I would absolutely love
for you to be the woman to make an honest man out of me. Will you marry me?”
Later, when we finally grew tired of sex, I slid the ring onto my finger and laid back on the bed, my hand held in front of me.
“How does it look?” Anton asked, lying next to me, both of us naked.
I turned to him, staring into his icy-blue eyes, and smiled. “Better than I ever imagined. My answer is yes.”