Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife
Chapter 17

“Arabella!” She ignores my call as she struts to the dance floor, leaving me standing by the bar as I cuss out under my breath.

Shaking my head at her carelessness, I enter the swarm of drunk men and women, dancing to the beat that the classical music lover inside me would never understand.

I push past the sweat ridden bodies of intoxicated beings before I finally find her in the centre of the dance floor, swaying to the music with her hands thrown up and her head thrown back.

A loud growl escapes my lips but gets muddled in the high volume of the music when I see a man trying to snake his way behind her.

I snatch her by the waist before he can lay a finger on her, glaring at him with such hatred that he actually pales in comparison and gulps before scurrying off of the dance floor.

Good. Because I have no intention of killing anyone tonight, like I had had to kill the brunet who made the mistake of forcing himself upon her all those months ago.

I feel Arabella’s gaze on me as she turns back her head from where her body is pressed against my chest, “territorial much?” She screams over the shrillness of the music.

I tighten my grip around her, my fingers splaying flat on her abdomen as her perfect a*s rests just against my crotch, making me harden in my pants before I can even attempt to distract myself.

“Always.” I growl in her ear and I swear I feel her entire body shivering in response. But I could be wrong.

She then rolls her eyes and decides that she doesn’t want to focus on more words for the night; resting her head against my chest, she throws her arms to the sides just as the music turns softer and warmer, making her sway softly in my arms while keeping her eyes closed.

I don’t remove my grip from around her body, but my entire frame stiffens the moment her a*s rubs up against my groin and she arches herself in such a manner that has my restraint threatening to break.

And when she does it one more time, turning me harder than steel, I twist her around to face me and am holding the base of her throat in my hand, glaring at her softly while she blinks her lashes, smirking at me.

“You’re playing with fire, Ivy.” I realise my mistake the moment her eyes twinkle in response to the nickname that I haven’t used on her since the day we got married.

“Then burn me, Rhys.” She whispers, blinking her eyes innocently at me, making me press my thumb slightly into the thin skin of her neck, “burn me and make me yours. That is what you want, isn’t it?” She whispers, her voice falling hot against my lips as I continue to stare at her, unable to understand what she is trying to do at the moment as I stare at her with concealed angst.

“We need to go home right now, Arabella.” I mumble, attempting to pull away from her before she grabs my collars and brings my face down to her lips.

Her lips fall urgently on my own, bringing me nothing but pure ecstasy as she presses herself up against me, kissing me with such fervour that I have no shot at every pulling away from her.

She is like a drug in my intoxicated veins, spreading like wildfire until every fragment of my being is coloured in her.

I don’t want to stop, I want to feel the press of her body against my own, I want to feel her veins pulsing beneath my thumb, I want to devour her lips as they search my own like they contain the answers to this universe, but more than anything, I just want to hold her, I want to have her, and I want to never let her go.

The weight of my emotions and thoughts makes me stumble backwards in fear and worry as I blink at her, detangling our bodies completely as the two of us stand facing each other in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

The surrounding sounds come back to my attention, as does the smell of alcohol and sweat along with the reminder of why I came here in the first place.

Curling my lips downwards in a deep scowl, I grab Arabella’s wrist, pulling her towards me before glaring into her wild green eyes, “we’re leaving.”

She doesn’t argue this time, following after me as she pockets her phone in the back pocket of her black leather pants. I have to refrain from openly ogling at the way her sensuous curves look cinched in her black corset top that hugs her chest wonderfully.

Jordan is already pulling up in front of the club, getting out of the limo before opening the door to the back seat for us as Arabella slides in first, and I stop to look up and down the street to make sure that there is nothing suspicious.

I press the button for the divider to roll up between Jordan and us and once I have ensured that we are completely secure, I finally turn back towards Arabella who is reaching for the bottle of champagne lodged in the ice bucket.

“Is that really a good idea for you?” I mutter, staring at her with a disappointed expression on my face, not understanding what exactly has gotten into her today. I mean, I expected her to be angry, to be pissed at me after weeks of realising just how many of her assets I have taken away from her, but with the way she kissed me at the club and her aloof behaviour as she currently sips on a glass of champagne like nothing is wrong is somehow ticking me off.

I know at most instances what is going on in Arabella’s head. But it is moments like this when I truly worry for what havoc she is planning to wreak in my life.

“You know what your problem is, Mr. Mikhailov?” She coos, tilting her head to the side while her eyes analyse me inquisitively.

“Enlighten me.” I bite out, knowing it is better to just indulge her right now.

She sips on the liquor like it is water and I am surprised at how she is so tolerant to it. “You think you know how to play the big game, you think you have everything in control, but in reality, you are just a child crying because he is all alone in the world and there is no one here to love him anymore because anyone who has tried, you have successfully managed to push away.”

My fist clenches over my thigh, controlling myself from reacting in exactly the childlike manner that she just described me as, but I have to admit that her words sting and right now I want to pull her over my lap and s***k her a*s bare for the way she is behaving.

“You’ll have to do a lot more than that to actually hurt me, Arabella.” I hiss, going back to using her full name once again.

She smirks, “oh, I am not trying to hurt you, Mr. Mikhailov.” She purrs, her eyes darkening like a vixen and my already hard c**k jerks up at the sight when she licks her lips seductively as she puts the glass in her hands away before scooting closer to me. “Quite the opposite actually.”

I almost g***n when her palm comes to rest suggestively against my thigh, sliding further and further towards my crotch as I eye her, waiting to see just how far she is willing to take this, to see just how much her prowess extends.

“Careful, sunshine. You won’t like yourself very much in the morning for what might happen between us tonight if you keep going this way.” I jest, making sure to keep my voice arrogant and rigid, not wanting her to see just how much I want her to do exactly what I am seeing in her eyes.

Her luscious lips…the same lips that I have imagined wrapped around my c**k during the entirety of her time in Paris…turn up in a smirk as she doesn’t break the contact between our eyes while her hand stops just a centimetre away from my groin and I have to restrain myself from groaning in annoyance.

She grins when she sees the frustration in my face the moment she removes her hand completely but when her slender fingers start working on the buckle of my belt, I have to grab her hand in my own, glaring deep into her eyes.

“You don’t want to do this, Arabella.” I warn her, knowing well enough that if she gets any closer to me, I will not be able to stop myself from burying into her warmth and forgetting that the rest of the world exists.

And even though we are well hidden from Jordan’s view from the driver’s seat and because of the tinted windows of the limo, no one can see us from outside either, but in this moment, I feel as exposed to the rest of the world like I was standing naked in front of raging cameras.

“Believe me, Rhys…” my heart thuds listening to my name on her tongue and the sultry look in her bright eyes, “I know what I want and this is exactly it right now.” She breathed huskily, ripping her hand out of my grip as she hurriedly unfastens my belt and then slides down the zip of my dress pants.

Her soft hand dips underneath the waistband of my boxer briefs before she grips my length, a hiss escapes my lips just before she gives me a devilish smirk and then goes down to wrap her lips around the crown of my c**k.

“F**k…” I almost come right then and there as she twirls her tongue around the top, slowly pumping with her hands, caressing, teasing, and then starting to f**k her mouth with my length.

My hand grips at the roots of her hair as I throw my head back against the seat, barely managing to control myself as I focus all my energy on not finishing off just yet.

All sane thoughts leave my head as my spirit levitates into a land of pleasure where I am only at the mercy of this blonde haired goddess that carries blessings in her halo and sin on her heels.

“f**k, baby, you take me so well…” I breathe out, my own voice sounds raspy and foreign to my ears as I start moving her head up and down my length, not caring about anything else in this moment.

I don’t know what she is doing to me, but I do know that right now, I don’t want her to f*****g stop until I am coming inside that sweet p***y of hers.

“Oh, baby…” she takes me deep, making me meet her mouth with thrusts of my own as I forget everything that exists around me except for her.

And just when I feel the pleasure building inside me to uncontrollable bliss, Arabella rips her mouth off of my c**k, still gripping it as I let out a loud g***n of complaint, opening my eyes to look into hers.

She smirks, looking me up and down in the current haphazardness that I am sitting in before she says, “game on, Mr. Mikhailov. You come after something of my own, I go after something of yours. Mark tonight as the night that your losing streak begins.”

And saying that, she f*****g climbs out of the car and I finally realise that we have reached home and she has just managed to make me drop all my defences and lose control, only to leave me hanging high and dry.

That f*****g vixen.

I quickly straighten up my clothes, buckling my belt as I step outside the care and enter my house realising one thing—

Arabella: 1; Rhys: 0