Born to be Bad (International Bad Boys Book 3) (4 page)

Rosa, one of the domestics was polishing one elevator as Milly made her way over to them.

“‘Night, Milly,” Rosa said and pressed the elevator for Milly to go down.

“Good night, Rosa.” Milly smiled.

As she stepped in the elevator, she leant against the brass rail and watched the numbers go down.

She’d be mad to go to his suite.

Roman Zaretsky, the playboy, the famed bad boy, could, as Simon had predicted, very well crush her in the palm of his hand.

She knew that what she was considering doing was perhaps foolish at best yet she had spent her whole life being sensible—coming straight home from school to check on her mother during the early days of her decline. And later, when her friends had discovered nights out and dating, Milly had remained at home as her mother’s carer. Her whole life had been spent trying to convince herself that she wasn’t missing out on anything and denying the sexual side of herself, yet it had come out in force tonight.

Since Roman had arrived in her life, Milly felt as she had been spending her time resisting want—living on a perpetual diet of denial, for all along she had wanted.

And tonight, it would seem, that Roman had been wanting her too.

Milly had never seen anyone more beautiful, yet it was more than his looks that had her finger hovering over the button that would take her to his floor. It was his touch, his words, that had drawn her in.

Milly had never thought a man could move her so and yet Roman had.

It was too much too soon, Milly knew that, yet she hadn’t been saving herself for her wedding night or anything. And though she had no sexual experience from which to gather, at her very base Milly knew that Roman needed her tonight.

And Milly knew something else—come what may, things were never going to be the same again.

As the elevators doors opened on the ground floor, Milly hit the button for the twenty-fourth floor.

M
illy stepped out
of the elevator and approached the presidential suite filled, not with trepidation, more with anticipation.

With a shaking hand she swiped the card and walked into his luxurious hotel suite. Even though it was in semi-darkness she could see him standing with his back to a window, his broad outline blocking the view of the city.

“You came,” Roman said, because he had been starting to wonder if Milly would change her mind. He was incredibly grateful that she was here, for he craved her sweetness and light tonight.

For Milly every sense seemed to be heightened. The room was incredibly warm, soft music was playing in the background and she could feel her high heels sinking into the thick carpet as she quietly closed the door. The aroma from a floral display at first scented the air with roses and lilac, yet it was the masculine scent of Roman that had her on alert. She was nervous, not of him but more to the thrum of her body that did not quite know what to do.

“Come here,” Roman said.

As Milly walked towards him, he poured her a glass of champagne.

“It is my turn to serve you.” Roman said, handing her a drink.

She went to take a sip but then changed her mind and the glass hovered at the edge of her mouth. “What?” Roman asked when he saw her hesitation.

“I want to taste the champagne but I don’t,” Milly admitted.

“Why not?”

And it felt right to be honest. “Because it will take away the taste of your kiss.”

“I’ll put it back soon,” Roman said and gave her a smile—and so occasional was his smile and to think that her words had put it there had Milly’s heart beat a small tattoo.

She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip, it was icy cold and tasted absolutely delicious, but more so when he replaced the taste of champagne with his mouth in a gentle kiss that made her slightly dizzy.

He again removed her bag from her shoulder and dropped it to the floor.

“Another sip,” Roman said.

Which earned her another kiss.

Soft and delectably slow, his mouth searched her until it was a relief when Roman took the glass from her hands and put it down on a small walnut table, for her hands needed to be in his hair.

Roman never usually lingered with kisses yet he did tonight. He liked the silent plea of her lips to press harder, he liked the knot of her fingers in his hair and the way that her tongue caressed his.

He was filled with a need that was unfamiliar, a need to reassure, to take his time, to feel the other and to nurture the rise of want.

“I want to dance with you again,” Roman said and he spoke into the shell of her ear before kissing it softly and intimately. The wet of his tongue, the ragged sound of his breath had her neck arch and made her feel feverish. She turned towards him, desperate for mouth to be on hers but Roman denied Milly’s mouth his own. Instead, he undressed her slowly as they danced. His large hands were surprisingly nimble as he again dealt with the zipper of her skirt and he held her waist as she stepped out of it. His rare smile returned as, compliant, she lifted her arms so that Roman could slide her top off over her head.

Then, Roman lowered her hands by her side and took down her bra. He was used to silicone and breasts that barely moved. How he loved the drop of her heavy, soft breasts to his hands. He took off his shirt and then pulled her naked—apart from her panties and stilettos—into his strong arms and they danced a more intimate dance than the one they had shared in the club lounge.

Milly wasn’t cold, the heating was high enough and his skin kept her warm as did his kiss.

It was Roman that made her shiver.

Roman was still wearing his suit pants, his erection, pressed into her naked stomach, was blissful. The scratch of the buckle from his belt had Milly wanting it to dig further in. His fingers were playing with her bottom, cupping the flesh and stroking it and then pressing her in to the beat, not of the music, but a far more private dance.

Her breasts were splayed flat against his chest and their mouths were conjoined when he picked up her champagne glass and danced them into the bedroom. There, by the bed, he loosely held her and Milly’s breath caught in her throat as he dipped one of his fingers in the icy champagne. His wetted finger came to her breast and started to trace the pale pink of her areola and she looked down, watching the slight shrink as the skin tightened and her nipples started to peak.

Milly watched, fascinated too, as he did the same with the other, and then with her nipples as ripe and as tempting as small raspberries he lowered his head. Milly closed her eyes to the soft exploration of his mouth on her breast as his tongue teased and cajoled her nipple and then his lips softly blew.

She stood, trembling with the delicious pleasure of his slow perusal. Her hands went to his head, more to steady herself, or perhaps to urge that he continue. Roman took it as the latter and his mouth took in more of her right breast, his hot tongue swirling, sucking and licking. Milly moaned her pleasure as he sucked harder and she felt the rough scratch of his jaw on tender skin.

His hand moved between her legs and he started stroking her through the damp fabric of the panties. “Roman . . . ”

She wanted more, she wanted his mouth to continue the vacuum of pressure on her breast yet he had removed his lips. Roman hadn’t finished the delicious slow torture. He removed her panties, lowering himself down as he did so, until apart from her shoes she was completely naked and Roman was on his knees.

He kissed up the inside of one thigh and then the other even as she tried to stop him with her hands. Roman simply ignored her slight panic and he kissed the inside of her thigh the same way he had kissed her neck, sucking and gently bruising as she started to moan. Milly didn’t know what to do with herself as he leaned back on his heels; she was twitching with desire and she now wanted his mouth where it had hinted it would go.

Roman reached for the glass took a large mouthful of champagne but did not swallow it. He put the glass down and then buried his face in the gold curls of her mound and she let out a sob as the cold liquid sprayed over her heat. He splayed her legs with his palms as his tongue flicked at the clitoris, breathing in her scent probing her intimately until she could take it no more. Yet still, he did not relent.

Her knees started to bend, her thighs were trembling and still his tongue had its wicked way. Milly toppled backwards onto the bed and Roman’s mouth followed her, drinking in her come, holding her thighs to his head as she pulsed to his mouth, still somehow fighting him.

There was more, Roman knew that.

Breathless Milly lay there in an attempt at recovery as Roman stood, she looked at the flat of his nipples to the hard of his chest and then to his face. Roman licked his lips as he undid his belt, tasting her again and hungry for more.

He stripped, and Milly, who had never seen a man naked, only briefly took in the powerful thighs and the flat, toned stomach because her eyes were drawn to his erection, thick and long it looked as if it had risen angry. She should be scared, yet the sight of him had her sit up a little on one elbow and reach for him. There was almost a need to drag him inside of her, to put out his fire inside of her own.

Roman reached for the bedside and a condom as she stroked him. The turn of him had his cock slide over her breast leaving a silver trail that had Milly’s stomach tighten with a desire to taste him. Instead, she stroked him, loving the power in her hands, and the way his hips started to thrust from the mere run of her finger over the thick vein and the tease as it moved to his swollen head.

“Put it on,” Roman said. He was on the edge and he could take no more of her slow, gentle administrations. He held the base and ran his cock over her lips and he went to reach for her head, but he held himself back, because he did not want this over just yet. “Milly, put it on,” he said again.

Milly had no idea how but when he handed her the condom she knelt up on the bed and slid it down and Roman closed his eyes to the pleasure. To steady her hand as she unrolled it over his thick length, she cupped his balls.

She liked their soft weight, which was such a contrast to the tension in Roman. His cock was nudging between her breasts and then nudging again, he pressed her breasts together and started to move between them, and she was tempted to lower her head.

He wanted her to.

Roman wanted this over, he wanted to come, he wanted her out, yet he wanted her caress too and to feel.

For Milly, it was almost a relief when he pushed her back down and his body came over her.

His thighs were rough as they separated her legs, and his kiss was fierce yet so too was hers.

She felt the nudge of him at her entrance and her mouth turned to the salty skin of his shoulder, she opened her mouth to warn him to be gentle, but she was already too late for that.

Milly had anticipated pain and she certainly got it as Roman seared in to her. She bit down on his shoulder as he tore inside, but it barely muffled her scream.

Somewhere far removed from the land of logic, Roman knew that he had hurt her. He knew the condom was torn, he could feel it rolled around his thick base, but he was past caring for the tight grip of her was intense. “
Vsyo budet horosho
,” Roman said. He gently told her that everything would be all right and even if she didn’t understand what was said, Milly heard the reassurance in his tone and relaxed a little.

Roman started to move inside her but the words carried on, and the intense pain subsided as slowly he thrust. “
Zveda moya
 . . . ” Roman said, taking her deeper, and because he said it in Russian, she could never know he was calling her “my star.”

Her body knew though, it reached towards the caress of his voice as he filled her and their cheeks were side by side as he used words he had never said to another, let alone felt.

He moved up to his elbows and though Roman usually took forever to come, the tight grip of her, the way her hands were starting to dig into his buttocks had him close. He held himself on the delicious edge, just to watch her.

Milly’s nails were digging in, she felt hot and swollen and ached for reprieve yet she never wanted this to end. Her body was lifting to his, meeting him rather than resisting the deep thrusts and the feel of him stretching her, taking her. Her thighs wanted to clamp together but his body was in between, not that that stopped her—she wrapped her legs around him and her toes were curling.

“Roman . . . ” Milly was almost scared of what was building, there was no escape from her body and her neck arched and her thighs cramped as deep inside she throbbed to him and moaned as he stilled and his cock swelled further inside her.

There was no holding on now for Roman, feeling her tight spasms dragged out his come and he pulsed it into her, watching her, feeling her milk him, till he should be spent but she eked out more, and those last flickers had him shoot out the last of his silver and the most dangerous of words.

But they were in Russian, Roman told himself as he collapsed onto her as he tried to draw in air.