My Russian Beast: Standalone Billionaire Romance (6 page)

F
riendship sucks
.
I stared at the mirror in front of me, knowing no amount of makeup would be able to conceal my swollen eyes, the result of having cried myself to sleep.
God, this was so embarrassing.
I was a full-grown adult, and I was crying over a guy who I wasn’t even dating. Was I twenty-nine going on thirteen?

I glared at myself in the mirror.
Get a grip of yourself, Fredericka Spears.
So what if I had cried last night? It was just…just to tick another item off our BFF bucket list.

Make each other cry.

That was all there was to it.

Reluctantly turning away, I finished changing, opting for a black hoodie and running tights. If not for Sergei sending me a text an hour ago, I would have conveniently pretended to assume today’s morning jog, scheduled a week ago, was canceled.

I didn’t really feel like seeing him, knowing that he was still dating Madeline Carter.

But it didn’t mean I was jealous,
I thought defensively as I ran down the stairs. I was just…disappointed, that my friend was dating a woman who had once publicly ranted against Muslims, comparing the entire race to pests that had to be exterminated.

Outside my apartment, I found Sergei dressed in a black track jacket and matching pants, looking a thousand times more gorgeous and fashionable than I could be. I looked at him, and my heart started to hammer again, but this time it did so out of pain.

Did he spend last night with Madeline Carter?

The billionaire stepped forward. “
Dobroye utro
.”

“Good morning.” The brief smile on the billionaire’s face disappeared at my stilted tone.

We started to run, circling around the block in silence before heading down to the park. Most other billionaires I knew – or at least read about – had tons of security with them wherever he went, but Sergei was different.

Or rather Rockton, California was different. Every inch of the town either directly or indirectly belonged to the Grachyovs, and locals were well aware of the fact that they owed their livelihoods to the Russian clan. In this town, the Grachyovs were gods. People didn’t dare approach them without a reason, nor was anyone foolish enough to even contemplate harming them.

I stole a look at the god running next to me.

Were we really just friends?

And did he fuck Madeline last night?

The question tormented me the entire hour we ran, preventing me from having a normal conversation with the billionaire. Every time he spoke, I thought of that same voice, murmuring words of sweet nothings to the model’s ears, and my heart would squeeze so painfully I could barely breathe.

When we made it back to my place, Sergei insisted on accompanying me all the way to my front door as usual. But when I invited him to come in, he shook his head, saying he had a breakfast appointment.

“With Madeline?” The words were out before I could stop myself.

The billionaire gazed at me, his gorgeous face inscrutable. “And if it’s so?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Did you fuck her last night?” I heard myself ask tightly. I knew I was setting myself up for more hurt, but at least there would be closure. I was just so tired of thinking and hoping for the impossible. I just wanted to hear him say the truth so I could move on.

But the billionaire only continued to gaze at me, jaw clenching, and that was when I saw the cold fury in his dark gaze. Blinking in bemusement, I stammered his name out, wondering what he had to be angry about. “S-Sergei?”

He turned his back on me without a word, and when I realized he was really leaving just like that, I instinctively reached for him. “Wait.” My fingers curled around the sleeve of his jacket. “Sergei---” He whipped around to face me, eyes blazing, and my voice trailed off.

“What right do you have to ask that question,” he hissed, “when we’re just friends?”

Oh.

“Why would you even care,” the billionaire snarled under his breath, “when you obviously think Julian Alexeyev can be of greater help to you?” He suddenly moved towards me, a savage look on his face, and I involuntarily retreated, my heart jumping as my back collided with my front door.

“Sergei---”

“I’ll answer your question just this once,” he grated out, “but after this, you will never ask it again. Because you were the one who wanted this.”

Ah.

I wanted to look away, but his dark eyes had already captured mine, and there was no way to protect myself from his words.

“You were the one who asked to be
friends
.” And the way the billionaire looked at me, I already had my answer, and it hurt.

I whirled around, my heart squeezing as I muttered painfully, “I don’t want to talk anymore.” I fumbled with the lock, desperate to get inside before he could say something more hurtful. The key slid in, and my body shuddered in relief.
Just another second
, I thought feverishly,
and I wouldn’t have to know---

“Yes,” Sergei said behind me in a rough undertone. “I fucked her.”

My hand fell limply to my side, and the door swung away from me.

No.

I couldn’t have heard that.

Somebody make me forget I heard that.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the pathetic part of myself wished humans had the ability to will themselves into suffering amnesia.

He had fucked her.

He was fucking her.

He had probably
never
stopped fucking her, and I…I had no right to complain.

Because it was what he said.
I had asked for it.

“Say something,” the billionaire gritted out from behind, and I wanted to laugh madly at his words.
What was there to say?

“Fredericka---” His fingers brushed against my arm.

“No!” I recoiled violently, my skin crawling at his touch. I didn’t care if I wasn’t making any sense. All I knew was that I couldn’t stomach having his fingers touch me, knowing that those same fingers had grazed another woman’s skin---

The thought ripped my heart apart, and I shook my head wildly. “I have to go.” And without looking back, I stumbled inside my apartment and slammed the door shut, pushing it with my back. I managed to lock the door before sliding down to the floor, my energy disappearing in an instant.

I stared blindly at my surroundings, my mind still trapped in a nightmarish world where all I could see was the billionaire making love to Madeline Carter over and over and over.

You had asked for this, Fredericka Spears.

I breathed hard, willing myself to calm down. I couldn’t let myself be affected. This was what I wanted. This was how I protected myself…but God, how could playing it safe hurt so much?

T
he rest
of the weekend went like a blur. I couldn’t remember what I did, all I knew was that time flew past me without being aware of it. By Sunday night, I felt like a zombie and I was in my bed at seven in the evening, lethargic and numb.

If I had the keys to the office, I would have been there in an instant, working my ass off. I needed something to keep me busy. Anything to get my mind off the fact that Sergei Grachyov had been fucking another woman while he was my…friend.

I kept my eyes wide open at the thought, knowing that if I let myself blink, it would be over, and my eyes wouldn’t be able to stay dry.

Sergei, Sergei, Sergei.

Both my heart and body ached, but the pain wasn’t the same for the two. There was no alleviating the hurt in my heart, but the way my body felt restless…the way it ached in different places, craving for a particular kind of heat---

A sliver of a thought slipped insidiously in my mind, and the moment it took hold, there was no way to forget. There was no way to pretend that such a possibility existed.

I stretched out on the bed, even more restless now, uncomfortably hot even though the air-conditioning was on full blast. I looked around me in the darkness, gulping at what I was considering.

Could I do this? Could I really do this?

Even with the room submerged in a world of blackness, I still felt completely exposed and I nervously reached for the covers, pulling them all the way up to my neck. Only then did I allow my legs to slowly part, wider and wider, until they were completely spread apart, and forced the folds of my pussy to expand open.

The position was uncomfortable and arousing, and my face heated up at the realization. Guilt stirred inside of me, but even so I could no longer stop myself. My hand drifted down my body, which tensed when my fingers brushed over my nipple. As my hand continued its descent, I could feel both my nipples turning erect, and the guilt inside me deepened. This time, there was no hiding the fact that I was pleasuring myself.

I squeezed my eyes shut more tightly.

Sergei.

Both my hands started to move as I pretended it was the Russian billionaire caressing my body. I cupped my breast as my other hand stroked my folds over my panties, which had already become sticky wet with my need. I began to pinch my nipples, as hard as I imagined Sergei Grachyov would do it, and a whimper escaped from my throat.

It felt so good.

This felt so, so good.

The fingers over my pussy moved up, right above my shaking, swollen clit. I imagined Sergei holding that tiny nub of flesh, and my fingers moved as his would. I began to rub my pleasure spot, slowly at first then faster and harder.

Aaaaaaaaaah.

I squeezed my breast hard.

Sergei. Oh God, Sergei.

I began tweaking my nipples, all the while continuing my self-induced torment continued over my clit. It was heaven and hell, but I never wanted it to end.

Sergei, Sergei, Sergei.

My breath began to catch, and my hips began to move up and down under the covers.

Oh God, Sergeeeeeeeei----

I could feel my pleasure building.

Sergei, Sergei, please, Sergei, more, more, more---

A gasp tore out of me as my pussy swelled and shook under my fast-moving fingers.

Sergeiiiiiiiiiiiii---

I came with another gasp, at the same time my mobile phone suddenly started to ring.

Oh God!

I panicked even as my body continued to shudder as wave after wave of creamy pleasure gushed out of me. I reached blindly for my phone on the table, swiping to cancel the call before falling back on the bed, my eyes rolling back as the dizzying, overpowering strength of my orgasm took over my body completely.

“Sergei.”
His name came out a low, choked sob, and I shuddered at the sound of it, a part of me having lost itself in the delusion that it really was the Russian billionaire that had made me come.

My eyes closed.

“Sergei.” A hopeless whisper that made me close my eyes, knowing that right now his name was the only thing I had of him.

Sergei, Sergei, Sergei.

I couldn’t help whispering his name over and over as the shudders gradually weakened and I began to breathe a little easier.

Fuck me.

Love me.

S
ergei Grachyov fumbled
with the zipper of his pants as the breathy gasps coming from the other end of the line reached his ears. At first, he had thought he had dialed the wrong number, but when he had heard Fredericka’s distinct voice cry his name out---

He knew right away what was happening, and now he had to jerk himself off, too.

A silent, painful groan escaped him as his cock finally sprang free from its confines, and he wasted no time, his hand moving in a furious frenzy---

Through the phone, he heard Fredericka cry his name over and over, and the Russian billionaire’s large, powerful body shuddered in agonized arousal.

Fredericka.

He could easily imagine her touching herself, could easily imagine her closing her beautiful gray eyes as she pictured him playing with her---

Ah.

That she was thinking of him as she masturbated was enough to push him over the edge, and with a swallowed growl Sergei began to come, his cum shooting out of his cock before landing on his bedroom carpet in creamy wads.

The sounds from the other end of the line gradually became silent just as his cock ejaculated for the last time. Sergei sucked his breath, a part of him unable to believe that he had come so hard just at the sound of Fredericka crying his name out.

He waited for her to speak, but it seemed as if she hadn’t even been aware that she had accidentally answered her phone.

Sweet, beautiful little idiot.

In over half an hour, he had washed himself, changed, and was knocking on her door. She opened it, beautiful red hair tousled all over her face, eyes shining, cheeks flushed, and her body modestly covered in pajamas.

“Hello, pchelka.” As he spoke, Sergei noticed then that her pajama buttons were in the wrong holes, which left a huge gaping hole over the valley of her breasts.
No fucking bra,
the billionaire thought grimly, and he inhaled deeply at the realization, his fingers clenching in an effort to keep himself from yanking her to him and feeling her naked breasts under his hands.

“H-hi.” Her voice was a nervous croak, and in her expressive eyes lurked fear and pain.

They stared at each other for one moment, and then the next second they spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

He spoke the words harshly, while hers was a painful mumble, and when they realized that they had the same intent, they stared at each other, visibly startled.

Sergei recovered first, a crooked smile slowly forming on his lips. “I truly am sorry,
pchelka
,” he murmured huskily. “Forgive me?”

Her eyes shone even brighter, and he realized that she was working hard to hold back her tears. “I’m s-sorry, too.”

He waited for her to say something else, but she only stared at him, her eyes telling him that she didn’t care for any explanations.

All that mattered to her was that he was back in her life.