Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife
Chapter 11

I don’t know what the hell am I doing. At this point I think that my life is running on an autopilot mode because coming to Paris all the way from Seattle just because I saw my wife posting a story with some guy is most definitely not a part of the Book Of Rational Things That Rhys Mikhailov Can do.

And at the moment, as I have her pinned to the window of her own Rolls Royce while the driver takes us to my villa in the city— at my orders, of course— all I can focus on is the generous cleavage that is visible through the sweetheart neckline of her blouse and I am agitated at the fact that all I want to do is lick a strip across her chest and see just how much harder her n*****s can get from the way they are currently pressing against the thin top.

She notices my gaze and trembles in my grip as I gently stroke the column of her throat, her smooth skin only rattling me further as I fix my glare on her striking eyes.

“I will not ask you again, Arabella. Who was that man?” I growl at her, somehow unable to decide between f*****g the lights out of her right on this seat or pulling her onto my lap and then s******g her sweet a*s for being so f*****g insolent and driving me up the wall with her antics.

“It was Ace. He came to visit me yesterday and he’s still at my place. You’ll see him when we reach.” She replies, almost too distracted by the way my other hand is currently sliding up and down her bare thigh, pushing her cream coloured pencil skirt even further up.

“I don’t believe you.” I mumble suspiciously while my fingers move dangerously close to her entrance.

She trembles once again but keeps herself in check just long enough to utter out, “you can check my phone, Mr. Mikhailov. You’ll see the bigger picture that it was actually Ace’s shoulder. I had to crop him because well…he’s Ace.”

That’s true. After me, Ace Mancini is the only man I know who is as private about his life. He is very strict about not being photographed and especially not keeping an online presence. Which gives him an advantage in the fact that most of his enemies don’t even know his looks.

Not that he will ever be as elusive as I am.

“Even if it was Ace, you had the time to post him but not time to reply to my messages and calls?” I snap at her, growing angrier by the second at just how stupid I am beginning to sound.

I shouldn’t worry about who the man was and I shouldn’t as hell be as aroused as I am at this moment.

The lord knows that I have spent the last two weeks thinking about her and getting myself off to her thoughts and memories.

Why the f**k does this woman affect me so much? Why the f**k do I care so much?

“I am not obliged to reply to you, Mr. Mikhailov. You made that pretty clear, if I remember correctly. You don’t wish to keep anything between us. So this is me following your demands.” She replies, her eyes flashing in the fury of her words.

I growl, “you will do as I say, Arabella. You are my prisoner and I can remind you exactly of the position you are in with just a phone call.” I inch my palm along her thigh, pushing her skirt all the way up as I caress her jaw with my thumb.

I watch as she shudders in my arms, fitting perfectly between the car door and my body as her cheeks are reddened with her arousal and the way her breaths are coming out in frequent intervals, I know that I am not the only one affected by this closeness between us.

“Look at you…so putty in my hands. Why do you have to resist, moya solnyshka? Especially when I can give you everything just by being a pretty little wife?” I coo at her, smirking at the way even my words make her eyes flare up with desire.

That is when something harsh and painful passes through her gaze as she sets her lips in a hard line, “everything but the love of a husband.” She mutters.

I’m not affected by that in the least. I cannot love her. And the sooner she accepts that, the better it is for us.

“That, I cannot give you, darling. How can I love you when you’re a monster’s daughter?” I ask her, softly trailing my fingers down the side of her neck, feeling her soft skin underneath my fingertips, gazing at her beautiful features, almost lost in a trance because of her ethereal beauty.

“You’re the monster.” She snaps but I scowl.

She gasps when my finger loops her panties to the side and I touch her between her tender folds, humming in approval when I feel them gliding in her wetness.

“You’re most definitely wet for someone who’s a monster, moya solnyshka.” I purr as I look up and meet her gaze, smirking when I find them widened in desire and wanton greed.

“Stop calling me that.” She hisses through her teeth before gasping out loud when I push a single finger through her tight heat and her a*s lifts up, meeting my intrusion halfway and chasing her own pleasure.

I chuckle darkly and I swear I feel a shiver passing through her body as I watch her eyes scrunching shut just as I lean down and bite down on her n****e through her satin shirt.

“Rhys…” she lets out, her hands falling to my hair as she tugs at their roots and a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain extends from the roots of my hair all the way to my crotch.

I look up at her and find her lips parted as soft m***s escape her lips while her eyes are scrunched shut as I move my fingers through her, bringing it out and making her whine right before adding another and pushing all the way inside.

Her m***s fall and her body reacts to every bit of what I do to her just as I lose myself in the pleasure of making her reach her highs.

This woman will be the death of me.

I can feel it.