Page 83 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)
Our eyes locked, and in the depths of his steel-gray gaze, I saw the reflection of my own desire—a burning, insatiable need that only the other could quench. My lips slid up and down his shaft, my tongue swirling and teasing, drawing him deeper with each stroke.
His fingers twisted in my hair, gentle yet insistent, as I worked him closer and closer to the edge.
His breath hitched when I cupped his balls with one hand, rolling them gently while my mouth took him to the hilt.
The salty prelude of his desire coated my tongue, a tantalizing preview of what was to come.
“Andy,” he ground out between clenched teeth, his body rigid as pleasure coiled tight within him.
I hummed around his girth, the vibration eliciting a deep, guttural moan from him.
Matt’s eyes never wavered from mine, a silent reflection of the trust and intimacy we shared.
It was a heady feeling, knowing I held such power over this formidable man—the ability to reduce him to a mass of quivering need.
With a final, desperate thrust, he came undone. Matt’s release flooded my mouth, hot and sweet, and I swallowed it down with relish. The look of pure ecstasy on his face was a sight to behold, a moment I’d treasure long after the aftershocks faded.
As he softened in my mouth, I released him with a satisfied pop, wiping the corner of my lips with an exaggerated flourish. “Well, well… looks like Leviathan knows who’s boss now,” I quipped, rising to my feet. “Should I expect a formal surrender ceremony?”
Matt’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me into a searing kiss that had my toes curling. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting himself on my lips. “Careful there, pet,” he murmured against my mouth, voice rich with amusement. “Leviathan has been known to stage comebacks.”
“Mmm, is that a promise or a threat?” I draped my arms over his broad shoulders, pressing our bodies together as the shower’s warm spray created our own private paradise. “Because this tamer is always up for an encore performance.”
“You and that smart mouth,” Matt chuckled, his hands sliding down to cup my ass. “Could probably talk the devil into attending Sunday mass.”
“Please,” I scoffed playfully, “I’ve got bigger ambitions. Like convincing a certain billionaire to?—”
Our banter was cut short by thunderous knocking. “For the love of all things holy!” Ryan’s voice boomed through the door, dripping with theatrical exasperation. “There’s fashionably late, and then there’s whatever you two are doing. Some of us would like to make it to the gala before breakfast!”
I buried my face in Matt’s chest, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “Your brother’s timing is as subtle as a Vegas billboard,” I whispered. “Think he has a sixth sense for interrupting?”
“More like a PhD in inconvenient appearances,” Matt agreed, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead before reluctantly setting me on my feet. “Come on, troublemaker. Let’s get ready before Ryan breaks down the door and traumatizes himself.”
“Fine.” I sighed dramatically. “But just so you know, Leviathan and I have unfinished business. I expect a proper debriefing later.”
Matt’s answering laugh echoed off the shower walls. “Debriefing? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Would you prefer ‘private performance review’?”
“Private performance review?” Matt’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Careful what you wish for. My reviews can be quite… thorough.”
“Oh?” I traced a finger down his chest, following a water droplet’s path. “Is that your way of saying I need more practice? Because I thought I just gave a pretty stellar demonstration of my skills.”
“Fishing for compliments now?” He caught my wandering hand, bringing it to his lips. “What happened to that modesty you claim to have?”
“Must have left it in my other pants. You know, the ones currently decorating your bedroom floor.” I pressed a kiss to his jaw, grinning against his skin. “Besides, a little praise never hurt anyone’s performance evaluation.”
“GUYS!” Ryan’s voice cracked through our bubble again, this time accompanied by what sounded like him banging his head against the door. “If you don’t emerge in the next five minutes, I’m calling Eddie to break down this door. And trust me, nobody wants to see that.”
Matt groaned, resting his forehead against mine. “We should probably…”
“Get out and get ready for the gala?” I finished for him, sighing dramatically. “Fine. But just so you know, this performance review isn’t over.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He reached behind me to turn off the shower, the water tapering to a stop. “Though maybe next time we should schedule it when my brother isn’t playing timekeeper.”
“Next time?” I arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Caine, are you already planning our next meeting?”
“Always,” he murmured, stealing one last kiss before stepping back. “Now come on, before Ryan actually does call Eddie. That’s one security breach I’d rather avoid explaining.”
I f anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be walking into the Bellagio’s grand ballroom on the arm of Vegas’ most eligible bachelor, I would have laughed in their face.
Yet here I was, tugging self-consciously at my perfectly tailored Armani tuxedo while trying not to think about how Matt’s hands had been all over me in the shower barely an hour ago.
Damn Ryan and his impeccable timing.
“Stop fidgeting,” Matt murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “You look stunning.”
He would know. He’d spent a good twenty minutes showing me exactly how much he appreciated the way I looked before Ryan had burst into the penthouse suite, already dressed in his own tuxedo and declaring we were going to be fashionably late, not absent.
The Bellagio’s ballroom took my breath away.
Crystal chandeliers dripped from coffered ceilings like frozen rain, their light catching on the champagne flutes and jewelry below.
The string quartet played something that sounded expensive, their music floating over the steady hum of power and privilege.
Everything gleamed—the marble floors, the gilt mirrors, the perfectly polished smiles of Vegas’ elite.
“Isn’t this better than moping around alone in the penthouse?” Ryan appeared at my elbow, looking unfairly gorgeous in his midnight-blue tux. He handed me a flute of what turned out to be sparkling cider. “Some of us aren’t legal yet,” he explained with a wink.
Matt’s arm tightened around my waist. “Try to behave,” he warned his brother before a silver-haired man in an impeccable suit approached. “Richard, good to see you.”
“And that’s our cue.” Ryan grinned, pulling me aside as Matt slipped into business mode. “Come on, let the grand tour begin.”
We drifted through the crowd, Ryan snagging hors d’oeuvres from passing servers while providing what he called “the real Vegas gossip network.” The food was as fancy as everything else—tiny works of art that probably had French names I couldn’t pronounce.
“See the couple by the ice sculpture?” Ryan popped something that looked like a jeweled cloud into his mouth. “Timothy Chen and wife number four. He’s worth about three billion in tech money. She used to be his kid’s nanny. The diamonds she’s wearing could probably fund a small country.”
I watched Mrs. Chen adjust her necklace for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Subtle.”
“Right?” Ryan steered us toward a display of elaborate desserts.
“And over there, the woman in emerald? That’s Catherine Morrison.
Old money, owns half of downtown, absolutely terrifying at charity auctions.
Last month she got into a bidding war over a painting with—” He broke off, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
I followed his gaze to where a tall man with striking green eyes had just entered the ballroom. He moved like he owned the place, which, given the whispers that followed his arrival, he probably could if he wanted to.
“Xavier Kingsley,” Ryan supplied, gleefully accepting another pass of champagne-free bubbly from a server. “Tech genius, environmental crusader, and Matt’s biggest rival in the sustainable energy sector.”
I studied the newcomer with growing interest. He was undeniably handsome, with the kind of confidence that probably came with revolutionizing an industry before hitting thirty. “What’s the story there?”
“Oh, where to start?” Ryan led us to a quieter corner near a towering flower arrangement. “Xavier’s been trying to either buy into or take over Matt’s new tech venture for months. Matt would rather…” He paused, considering. “Well, let’s just say Matt’s not interested.”
“Why not?” I watched Xavier work the room, noting how people gravitated toward him like moths to an extremely wealthy flame.
“Territory, mostly. Vegas is Matt’s kingdom—Xavier’s trying to expand from Silicon Valley.” Ryan’s eyes tracked Xavier’s progress. “Plus, there was some drama at MIT. They were there at the same time. Apparently, it got messy. No one knows the full story.”
We spent the next half hour people-watching while Ryan provided colorful commentary on Vegas’ finest. I learned that the man by the bar had lost his first fortune in Bitcoin before making it back in real estate.
The twins in matching Dior had once gotten into a fistfight at a charity gala over a tennis pro.
The elderly woman holding court near the quartet had been married six times, each husband mysteriously richer than the last.
“This is prime entertainment,” I admitted, watching a woman carefully maneuver her way between three ex-husbands.
“Right? Oh, try these.” Ryan snagged something that looked like modern art from a passing tray. “They’re doing some kind of fusion thing with the food. That’s probably tuna, but I wouldn’t bet my trust fund on it.”