Michaela With an impatient flick of the wrist, I peruse the pages of the French Vogue magazine I grabbed from the stack to ke ep myself busy. Flip. Flip. Flip. I let out a long sigh. I check the time on my phone and go back to being a bored, St epford wife. “It’s six-thirty.” I huff. “When will he get off that darn conference call?” I didn’t expect this morning’s revelation to topsy-turvy Phoenix’s day. He’s been locked up in the office in our suite on back to back conference calls. He had me sit in on his calls with his father and brothers. All three men share Phoenix’s acrimonious feelings for the duplicitous couple. Once we updated his family—minus Roman, who doesn’t need to deal with this shit right now—he suggested I contact the art buyer for the hotels in France, Spain, and Italy. Victorine Ardant was expecting my call. Giddy at the prospect of st epping into my new role as Art Director and Principal Art Buyer for König Imperial Holding, I met up with her. Victorine gave me a tour of her studio and the storage room packed with art located in the basement of the Pompadour, Saint-Germain hotel. After the meeting, I called Phoenix to see if he was available for lunch. He was in work mode, so I invited Victorine instead. She’s so French. Her personality is as effervescent as her name. It’s wild to share your first name with a famous Louis Vuitton luxury monogram wallet. We’re going to get along famously. Contrary to Marie-Clémence, Victorine isn’t a stuck-up snob who looks down at people because they only speak one language. Victorine didn’t mind my accent or the fact I couldn’t remember certain French words. We had a great time getting acquainted with each other better. After lunch, I returned to the suite to find Phoenix still wearing his CEO-slash-COO
hat. I knew this would be a honeymoon-slash-work week, but I was hoping we’d spend more time together. Bummed out, I plopped myself on the sofa with my phone in hand. To ke ep myself busy, I called Keira to catch up and share all the details of my post-wedded bliss in Paris. Then, I called Daddy. I told him about Brock and Thana. He shared his unpleasant conversation with Potter. The call with my father was supposed to be all shop talk, but it ended as an emotional thank-you-for -choosing Phoenix-as-my-husband-instead-of-selling-me-off-to-the-dirt y-old-man heart-to-heart. I told him about Ripley’s disturbing perversions. Daddy was horrified. We were both crying by the end of the call. Since there was still no sign of my husband emerging from his office, I headed out to comb the streets of Paris, soaking up the unique atmosphere. I could’ve hit the shops to give Phoenix’s credit card a good workout, but there was something more pressing on the agenda. French desserts. I could snap my fingers and get the pastry chefs at the hotel to deliver a scrumptious assortment to our suite, but it’s not the same as pastry shop hopping. Not to mention, if you have to walk from one pastry shop to another you burn calories, which means you can ke ep stuffing your face silly. As a result, I indulged in way too many lip-smacking sweets. Full and riding a sugar high, I hopped in a taxi and made my way from Saint Germain-des-Prés to the Pompadour. So, here I am, waiting after my husband. Phoenix promised his last conference call of the day would be quick. He lied. An hour later, he’s still locked up, and I’m still sitting on this sofa. Alone. I’m starting to feel d eprived. Four days into my marriage and my husband is already ignoring me. Well, we’ll see about that. I set aside the Vogue magazine and make my way to that darn office. I rap my knuckles against the door and wait. He opens the door and waves me in. I st ep inside and he closes the door. “Hey,” he says in a theatre whisper. I tip my head back to look up at him. “Hey.” I match his hushed tone. My eyes shift to the six serious looking faces on the
screen of his laptop. He leans into me. “The camera is covered with a Post-it note,” he says. “I tend to pace a lot during long conference calls, and that drives people crazy.” “Why not select not to let the app use your camera?” “The Post-it note lets everybody know I’m growing impatient.” I nod. “Got it.” “Sorry. I didn’t expect this call would take this long,” he says, rubbing his temples. He must be having quite the day because he’s still unshaven, which is unlike him. Even weary and drained, he’s still as gorgeous as ever. A man with a de ep voice and a British accent launches into an explanation of the revised renovation plans of one of the Pompadour London hotels. Phoenix isn’t paying attention. Instead, his gaze is fixed on me. His blue eyes drop to my white designer heels and drag up my bare legs, up my body, pausing at my breasts before rising to my face. “You look fucking hot,” he says before dropping a soft kiss against my lips. I changed into a pretty dress before going out shopping. I had to bring on my A game because I’m in Paris. I love-love-love this iconic Diane von Furstenberg knee-length wrap dress. The black and white print stands out, and the electric-blue background resembles the Adriatic Sea. “Thanks,” I say, with a coquettish smile. “Did you go shopping?” He makes a move to untie the sash at my waist. I shoo his hands away. “What do you think you’re doing, Mr. CEOCOO?” I ke ep my voice low. He chuckles and grabs me by the hand. I follow him to the desk. “Do you want a drink? It’s cocktail hour somewhere in the world.” He nods. “Whiskey or wine?” “Wine. Red.” “Okay.” I make my way to the mini bar to locate a good bottle. I still can’t get over the fact there’s also a full bar in the living room area. The Pompadour is the height of luxury. As I move about the room, I’m keenly aware of Phoenix’s eyes on me. I peek over my shoulder. His attention lingers on my ass, eyebrow cocked in interest. I smile. He doesn’t. He stares at me. Or should I say, he devours me with his eyes. He runs a hand over his stubble, and my stomach flips as I long to feel it between my thighs again. This
conference call is becoming more of an annoyance with each passing minute. Thank God for wine to pass the time. I grab an exc eptional Syrah I’ve had the pleasure of sampling before at Rhys’s place. I pour two glasses and sashay back to my husband. “Thanks.” He mouths his gratitude and grabs the glass. I nod. I sit on the sofa across from his desk and cross my legs. I lift my glass in salute. He mirrors my move. I take a long sip of wine, enjoying every nuance of the punch of flavor that greets my taste buds. My eyes glance over to Phoenix’s to confirm if he shares my contentment with the wine, but the lovely Syrah is the last thing on his mind. His attention is on my legs. His gaze lifts and locks onto mine. I arch a brow. He arches one back. I uncross and cross my legs, each time making sure the bottom of the dress rides a little higher up my thighs. Phoenix narrows his gaze. He’s onto me. The newfound temptress in me takes over. I position my leg so he gets a peek of the Promised Land. He cocks his head to the side to get a better view. The man with a de ep voice and British accent stops talking. Phoenix bounces his eyes back to the screen. “Thank you very much Gordon for the update.” I giggle. I doubt he heard half of what Gordon had to say. Phoenix’s face contorts in a warning expression. That only makes me giggle even more. He focuses his attention on the screen. “Is there anything else that requires my urgent attention?” “Actually...” a woman says. “Can we talk about increasing the budget for the two Spain renovations?” “And I have a few things I’d like to go over about the Milan location,” another female voice says. Phoenix rolls his eyes. “Sure.” Good God, this conference call will never end. I tune out the women’s voices, preferring to focus my attention on the exc eptional wine. From over the rim of my glass, I catch Phoenix staring at me. I point to the laptop, indicating he should be focusing on the conversation. He shakes his head and points at me. I frown. He cups his crotch and bites against his lower lip. My pussy clenches in response. Oh, someone wants to play. I drop the wine glass on the side table, get
up, and sashay over to him. Something in his expression is dangerous. I can’t tell if it’s a warning or a dare. Dare, it is. I pull the tie at my waist and unwrap the dress to reveal an Agent Provocateur mesh bra and matching retro high waisted panties in a flattering ocean-blue shade. The little red bow nestled in between my breasts and the one right below my bellybutton on the panties adds a touch of naughtiness to the sexy combo. His eyes light up. “Holy shit.” The words drop from his mouth. “Holy shit, what?” the woman with the Spanish accent says. Phoenix cringes. “Holy shit, that’s informative. Ke ep going.” Good save. The woman ke eps talking. I shrug out of the dress and kneel in front of him. He reaches out and strokes with his thumb over my lower lip. I reach behind me and unfasten the bra. I let it slide down my arms and toss it to the side. Phoenix’s gaze drops to my bare breasts. Fueled by desire, I bring my hands to my breasts and flutter my fingertips over my stiff nipples before squeezing them. The blissful sensation travels all the way to my clit. He shakes his head, as if he can’t get over my brazenness. Neither can I. Phoenix practically rips the shirt off his body before kicking off his shoes and removing his socks. With impatient hands, he makes quick work of his belt buckle and zipper. He lifts off the chair just enough to slide his pants over his ass. I reach out and help him remove them all together. He does the same with his boxer briefs and his cock springs to life. I wrap my hand around his beautiful erection. When his hand covers mine, squeezing both our hands, I stifle a groan. “I’m hopeful these renovations will get us even more nominations for next year’s HEEA,” the woman concerned about the Barcelona renovation says. The other five people on the conference call cheer. “Don’t you agree, Phoenix?” a man says. “We can never have too many HEEAs.” His voice is gruff. I lean in and drag one nipple over the tip of his cock. “God—” His body jerks. “It goes without saying this can only happen with the grace of God,” the man says. The poor guy has no idea
how off he is. Phoenix and I share a complicit smile. I push his hand away from mine. He doesn’t fight me. I lean in and lick him from balls to tip before wrapping my lips around the head of his cock, sucking him in de ep. “Oh, God.” Phoenix clamps a hand on the back of my head. Heat flares at my core. “I have to say, I didn’t peg you as such an overtly religious man,” a woman says. I’m not sure who’s talking. I lost track. “Oh, well, you know...” Phoenix says. “God is good—” I bob my head up and down his cock, making sure he hits the back of my throat each time. I gag a little, but that doesn’t stop me. Phoenix grunts. “Are you okay, Phoenix?” A woman says. “Yes. More than okay.” He coughs. “A bit dehydrated from the flight. That’s all.” I bet he is. “The sensation of being as parched as if you’d been walking around in the desert for weeks is dreadful.” Gordon’s British accent gives him away. “It is,” Phoenix says. The discussion resumes, as the participants move on to another topic. I suck Phoenix de eper. Faster. I’m turned on like crazy by the kinkiness of our naughty play. The group of six can’t see us, but they can hear us. And it wouldn’t take much for that Post-it note to drop from the screen. God, this is filthy. Almost as if he could read my thoughts, Phoenix reaches out and pinches my nipple before twisting it hard. Fuck, this hurts so good. I choke around his cock. My eyes fly up to his. He’s sporting a devilish grin that speaks volume. He points to his cock. Bastard. I ke ep sucking him off, lost in a sea of hedonistic pleasure. Phoenix grips the hair at the top of my head, pulling me far back enough for his cock to drop from my lips. I shoot him a questioning look. “I need more,” he says in a whisper. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and nod. “Me too.” He lifts me up and drops me on his lap. I straddle him. I don’t know what possesses me, but I lean forward and give his neck a small playful bite. He groans low in his throat. I do it again. He pinches my ass. I pull away from him and pout. He reaches
between us, lining his cock up against my entrance. Oh, I see. I lower myself onto his long, thick cock. I’m so wet, he’s inside me in one powerful thrust. My head lolls back as my body welcomes the invasion. “Hell, yeah,” Phoenix says. “I’m glad you agree,” a woman says. “I knew you’d be satisfied.” Phoenix hums. “Extremely satisfied.” This is so debauched. We’re fucking to an unsuspecting audience. “Phoenix, can we talk about—” He reaches for his laptop and closes it, putting an end to this interminable conference call. Thank you, God. “Ride me hard, kitten,” he says. I obey. He clamps his hands under my ass and helps me glide up and down his cock. Faster. De eper. Harder. “Fuck, yeah.” I clench my inner muscles around him. He lets out a guttural sound. I bounce up and down on his magnificent cock. “Harder. I want to feel your fine ass against my balls. Each. And. Every. Time.” I do as I’m told. Every time I land on his balls, a surge of ecstasy shoots straight to my brain. “My hands are full,” he says. “I need you to take care of that beautiful clit of yours.” “Okay.” My fingers glide over my clit at a feverish pace, as he takes over the reins, fucking me senseless. He brings a finger to his lips before sticking it inside his mouth. What is he doing? I get my answer when his hand finds my ass and his finger glides up the edge of my butt crease. “Relax.” He eases his finger inside. I gasp, all my nerve endings jumping to attention. “Damn, you’re so tight.” He reaches for my pussy with his other hand, pushes my hand aside and dips his fingers de ep into my wetness, scooping up my juices. “Let’s try again.” His gaze bores into mine. “You trust me?” “I do.” “Don’t fight it. Enjoy it.” “Okay.” He probes my tightness again, but this time, his finger slides inside me. The sensation is so foreign... but nice. “Ke ep riding my cock and playing with your clit while I finger-fuck your ass, kitten.” His command makes me wetter and to my surprise, I don’t protest, nor do I tighten my ass in refusal. I’m beyond turned on at the thought of being at his mercy while he fills me—front
and back. My eyes drift closed, my mind focusing only on Phoenix’s naughty touch. Parts of me I didn’t even know exist, awaken. I work my fingers faster against my clit. This is so, so good. Between my hypersensitive clit and his finger in my ass, I’m flying. “I—I’m close,” he says. He tightens his grip around my waist, controlling the ride while finger-fucking my ass with determination. “Oh God...” “You’re close?” “Yes.” “Come hard for me, kitten.” His wish is my command. Every muscle in my body tightens and I scrunch my eyes shut as pleasure shoots through me. “Oh, Phoenix.” I r epeat that over and over again as I freefall. I lose myself in the most intense orgasm of my life. And that says a lot, considering my new husband has been more than generous. Phoenix picks up the cadence. Thrusting hard against me. My muscles clench and clench, pushing him over the edge. “Goddammit,” he says as his hips lift off the chair, taking me with him. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding onto him. “Jesus. Kitten. Oh, fuck, your pussy is so fucking good. Fuck. Take my cum. Take it.” He comes roaring, spilling his cum de ep inside my pussy. We stay tangled this way for a long while, both of us desperately trying to catch our breath. “God, that was intense,” I say. “It always is between us.” We’re a match made in heaven. He pulls away from me. “Thank you for saving me from that boring conference call.” I run my hands through his messy hair. “My pleasure.” “I’m sporting freshly fucked hair?” “You are.” I let out a small laugh. “So are you, my naughty queen.” He leans in and bestows a tender kiss on my lips. “You’re the perfect wife, Michaela.” He said those words to me yesterday, but they didn’t cause this unfamiliar pang tugging at my heart. Four days into this marriage, and I’m starting to hate our fake arrangement. I was willing to play along yesterday. I was willing to believe I’d be okay with him being mine for a short while—and me being his—but now I’m not so sure. This thing with Phoenix feels more real with each passing
day. It’s not only the explosive, mind-blowing sex. It’s also about this undeniable connection we share. How maddeningly unfair this man I’m married to can only be mine for a year when I want more— Dear God, I can’t be falling for him. Stupid, stupid, Mikki. Get your head screwed on straight. You’re a means to an end for Phoenix König. You’re not a real wife, or a real life partner, and you’re certainly not his real queen. A year from now, you’ll be nothing more than a distant memory. Pissed off at myself for forgetting what I’d signed up for, I untwine my legs from around his and try to get up. Phoenix tightens his grip around my waist. “Hey, what’s wrong?” “I’m fine.” “Fine? You just came your head off and you’re fine? My cock must be broken.” “That’s not it. Sex was good.” His eyebrows shoot to his forehead. “It was great. It was incredible.” “Why the frowning face, kitten?” “It’s nothing.” “Bullshit.” “I’m fine. Really.” “You said fine twice. That’s a red flag that you’re anything but,” he says. “Talk to me.” “Never mind.” He fixes me with a stern gaze. I lower my gaze. “Other than a handful of people, we’re lying to the world. We can’t lie to each other. Why the sudden change of mood, kitten?” I shouldn’t put myself on the line like this, but his soft voice is my breaking point. I run off at the mouth and the verbal diarrhea ensues. “I went from hating you, to despising you, to swearing on a stack of bibles I’d never marry you, to walking down the aisle to save our hotel, to liking you, to—” My hands go flying in the air. “I’m not sure how I feel about you anymore.” He stares at me. I cringe. “You’re not sure or you don’t want to be honest with yourself?” My eyes snap up to his. “I’m being silly—” “I’m not sure what’s going on between us either, but it’s not what I signed up for.” Great. Just great. I’m so fucking stupid. “You were supposed to be a crucial chess piece in my ascent to the throne,” he says. “I wasn’t supposed to like you this much, Michaela. And it’s not just because of the off the chart sex.” My eyes widen in shock. “You...” Whatever he says next is swallowed by the thunderous pounding of my hopeful heart. Then, it hits me. “Wait a
minute.” I hold up a hand. “What do you mean by, you weren’t supposed to like me this much?” He traces the contour of my jawline with his fingertips before tapping the tip of my nose. “Somewhere between our first naughty encounter in my office and this trip to Paris, you became... more.” I’m floored by his admission. “You mean, you like-me like me?” He nods. “I like-you like you. A lot.” My heart gallops out of control at his sweet confession. “I like-you like you, too, Phoenix.” I hesitate. “So, what does this mean for us?” A tinge of insecurity knots my stomach. “Now that we’ve established our language skills have reverted back to that of kindergarten kids, let’s cut out the bullshit.” I laugh. “Okay.” “I haven’t dated many women. And the ones I did see for longer than a fling, I never shared so much of me with them,” he says. “I’m an open book with you. It’s so unlike me.” “Same here,” I say. “Fuck the arrangement. I vote we ride this out for all it’s worth. No foot on the brake. No holding back.” With that one sentence, he kills me in a million different ways... each more elating than the other. “I like the sound of that.” I smile wide. He captures my lips. He kisses me soft at first and I cling onto him and press my body against his. The kiss turns ravenous and his cock swells inside me. Holding me tight, he stands and carries me across the office. “Where are we going?” “The sofa,” he says. “Time for round two.”