Page 82 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)

Thirty-Three

ANDY

T he glow of dual monitors lit up my makeshift office—a converted guest room that had become my sanctuary in Matt’s penthouse.

Lines of code filled the screens as my fingers danced across the keyboard, each keystroke bringing my app closer to reality.

I’d been at it for hours, lost in a digital world of my own creation.

My world had narrowed to pixels and possibilities, each successful function clicking into place like puzzle pieces in a grand design.

I was in my zone, a bubble of creation where dreams took shape one line at a time.

A gentle knock pulled me from my coding trance. I turned to find Matt leaning against the doorframe, looking every bit the successful billionaire with his tie loosened and jacket draped over his arm.

“How was work?” I asked.

“Busy. Productive.” He crossed the room, his presence commanding even in casual movements. “The conference is going better than expected.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I felt the tension from his day melt away with that simple gesture.

“Can’t keep your lips to yourself, huh?” I teased, turning back to my screen as my fingers resumed their dance.

“Found you!” I muttered triumphantly, deleting a rogue semicolon that had been haunting me for the past hour.

“How’s the app coming along?” Matt peered over my shoulder at the cascade of text, his expression a mix of curiosity and endearing confusion.

“Getting there.” I squinted at a particularly stubborn block of code. “Should have a prototype ready next week if everything goes smoothly.”

“Can’t wait to see it.” His hands massaged my shoulders, working out knots I hadn’t realized were there. “At this rate, you’ll be Silicon Valley’s newest billionaire by thirty.”

I snorted. “Let’s aim for my first million before we get carried away. Right now, I’d settle for a notification system that actually, you know, notifies.”

“Why think small?” His voice held genuine excitement—a billionaire with everything, yet still finding something to anticipate in my little project.

“Baby steps, Mr. Optimistic. Though I wouldn’t say no to a nice beach house in Malibu.” I grinned as another error message popped up. “After I convince this code to play nice.”

Matt glanced at his watch. “We need to start getting ready for the gala soon.”

I waved him off dismissively. “You go shower and suit up first. You’re the main event tonight—I’m just the arm candy tagging along.”

“My smart-mouthed arm candy,” he said, dropping another kiss on my head, longer this time. “Don’t get too lost in code. We can’t be late.”

“Yes, yes. Go make yourself pretty, Mr. Billionaire. Some of us are trying to work here.”

He chuckled as he left, and I dove back into my work, determined to fix just one more bug before I had to squeeze into whatever designer suit Matt had undoubtedly picked out for tonight.

The code on my screen blurred into an incomprehensible mess of characters, my eyes staging a mutiny against the harsh glare of the monitors. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but it was a lost cause. The wall had won this round.

“Enough,” I muttered, pushing back from my desk. The chair wheels hummed against the hardwood floor, a soundtrack to my surrender. The distant sound of running water promised a much more enticing distraction than the incessant bugs in my app.

With a decisive click, I shut down my digital empire. The bathroom beckoned, steam billowing from under the door like an invitation. Matt was still in there—perfect timing.

I stripped quickly, clothes landing in a careless heap on the floor.

The en suite bathroom was thick with steam when I entered, and there he was—Matt Caine in all his glory.

Water cascaded over his broad shoulders, following the contours of his muscled back where his dragon tattoo seemed to come alive in the steam, its eyes gleaming with an almost supernatural intensity.

Every inch of him was a masterpiece of strength and grace, from his golden-brown hair plastered to his neck to the firm muscles of his thighs.

“Decided you looked lonely,” I said, stepping into the shower’s warm embrace.

Matt turned, his steel-gray eyes darkening as they swept over me. “Oh? Is that what we’re calling it?”

I rose on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Well, I couldn’t let Vegas’ most eligible bachelor shower all by himself, could I?”

Our lips met in a kiss that started gentle but quickly blazed into something more intense. Matt’s hands found my hips, pulling me closer as our tongues danced together in a familiar rhythm. I nipped at his lower lip, drawing a growl that vibrated through his chest.

“We could have some pre-gala fun,” I suggested when we finally broke apart, my voice husky. “Give you something to think about all evening.”

Matt snorted, amusement lighting up his stormy eyes. “Trying to wrap me around your little finger, pet?”

“That’s the plan.” I grinned up at him, unrepentant.

His answer was another searing kiss, more demanding this time. His mouth left mine to trail hot kisses down my neck, over my collarbone, taking detours that left me gasping. When his lips found my nipple, teasing and tormenting, my body responded instantly, hardening against him.

“Insatiable little smart-mouth,” he murmured against my skin.

“Only for you,” I breathed, losing myself in the sensation of his hands and mouth, the steam and heat creating our own private world where nothing existed beyond this shower, beyond us.

Matt’s lips traveled south, each kiss a brand against my skin, marking a trail of fire that burned straight to my core. I braced myself against the shower wall, water pelting against my back in hot, stinging waves, as his teasing descent continued.

When he finally reached the aching, throbbing evidence of my desire, he paused, his gaze snapping up to meet mine, a wicked glint in his stormy eyes. The anticipation was sheer torture, my body trembling with the effort of holding still, waiting for that first, mind-blowing touch.

And then, with excruciating slowness, he took me into his mouth.

My gasp echoed against the tiled walls as pleasure arced through me, white-hot and all-consuming.

His tongue swirled around my sensitive flesh, each movement precise, deliberate, driving me closer and closer to the edge with every stroke.

I writhed against him, my hands tangling in his wet hair, holding him to me as though he might disappear if I let go. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, it wasn’t just our bodies that were connected.

The orgasm hit hard and fast, ripping through me. I cried out, my body convulsing as I spilled into his mouth, my release drawn from the very depths of my being. Matt’s eyes never left mine, swallowing everything I gave him, the intensity in his gaze turning my knees to jelly.

As the aftershocks subsided, he rose to his feet, capturing my lips in a kiss that was both a claiming and a promise. “How was that for a prelude to the evening?” he asked with a smirk.

“That was… an overture of epic proportions,” I admitted, still riding the high of my climax.

His grin widened. “Care to return the favor?”

“Ah,” I said with mock solemnity. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

I took my time exploring his body, my lips and tongue mapping every ridge and valley of his muscular chest, lingering on his nipples until they hardened into tight little buds.

“Aw, look at these adorable little soldiers standing at attention,” I cooed, giving each a playful flick. “They’re more obedient than you are.”

Matt’s laugh rumbled through his chest like distant thunder. “Says the guy whose nipples go from zero to fireworks at the slightest breeze. I’ve seen more restraint in a teenager at their first concert.”

I shot him a mock glare, pulling back just enough to fix him with my most imperious look. “Excuse you, but some of us are sensitive by design. We can’t all be walking mountains with nipples made of steel.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Besides, you love my… enthusiasm.”

He grinned, unrepentant, as I moved lower, lavishing attention on his washboard abs.

“You know,” I murmured against his skin, “these abs should be in a museum. But then I’d have to share, and I’m not feeling generous.

” I traced each defined muscle with deliberate slowness.

“Perfect little squares of heaven. Don’t you dare let them fade, or we’re getting a divorce—and we’re not even married. ”

Matt’s laughter vibrated under my lips as I began my solemn duty of naming each pack.

“This handsome fellow here is Henry.” I pressed a kiss to the highest ab.

“And his brothers George and Louis.” More kisses.

“Can’t forget Chester and Nippy up here.

” I gave his chest and nipples their due attention.

“My own personal six-pack plus bonus features.”

When I finally reached his impressive erection, standing proud and ready, I paused for dramatic effect. “And what shall we call this magnificent beast?” I mused aloud, my breath teasing the sensitive skin.

“I have a name for yours,” Matt interjected, his eyes dark with desire but dancing with mischief. “Little Thunder.”

I huffed, shooting him my best indignant look. “Little Thunder? Excuse you, but this bad boy deserves something grand, majestic… like Excalibur or Mjolnir. Something worthy of a king’s arsenal.”

“Mjolnir, huh?” He arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my protest. “Mighty ambitious.”

“Yes, Mjolnir,” I affirmed, before turning my attention back to his impressive length. “And yours—this masterpiece right here—I shall call it Leviathan.”

With that declaration, I took him into my mouth, my lips sealing around his girth, my tongue teasing the sensitive underside. Matt’s chuckle transformed into a deep growl of pleasure, his hands tangling in my hair as I set about proving just why I deserved naming rights.