Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 519

Chapter 519

Madeline’s POV

The apartment door opened with a soft click. Marcus didn’t hesitate. He turned toward me with that mischievous smile I knew so well, and before I could say a word, he already had me in his arms, lifting me off the floor in one smooth, decisive motion. He carried me across the threshold like I weighed nothing at all.

A light, happy laugh slipped from my lips. My arms went around his neck on pure instinct, the bouquet

still clutched in one hand.

“Marcus!” I protested, completely failing to hide my smile.

“Tradition, Madeline. You don’t argue with tradition,” he said, his eyes shining with a mix of amusement and possessiveness that made me shiver inside.

He didn’t set me down right away. He stood there in the middle of the living room, holding me as if I were no more than a feather. His gaze traced my face, and the playfulness faded into a deep seriousness that made my heart start pounding.

“This reminds me of the Maldives,” he said, his voice soft, like a caress. “The first time I carried you into that room. Everything was new and scary, but even then… it was you. Always you.”

The memory washed over me, warm and sweet.

“I think, deep down, I always knew it was you too…” I whispered.

Finally, he lowered me until my feet touched the floor, but his arms stayed wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his solid, familiar body. The bouquet slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor, forgotten.

“Now…” he murmured, and his voice had changed-rougher, heavy with an intention that sent a shiver down my spine. “Now Aurora is with her grandparents. And we have the whole night. Just us.”

My heart was pounding like a drum in my chest.

“And what are you planning to do with all that time?” I asked, my voice coming out huskier than I meant it

He didn’t answer with words.

He tilted his head and captured my lips in a kiss.

And it was nothing like the chaste kiss from the church.

This was pure hunger.

My fingers buried themselves in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until we were both breathless. His hands slid down my back to the curve of my hip, squeezing, dragging me flush against

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the hard proof of his desire, and a low moan escaped my throat.

“Bedroom,” I gasped, breaking the kiss for just a second. “Marcus, please. Bedroom.”

“Working on it,” he muttered against my lips, already starting to move us toward the room, one clumsy step at a time, never stopping the kiss.

We bumped into the doorframe and laughed into each other’s mouths, the sound swallowed by urgency. He guided me into the bedroom, and finally our lips parted, both of us breathing hard. His hungry, darkened gaze traveled from my face down to the white dress, and the air between us crackled.

His hands went to my back, finding the zipper. The sound of metal giving way was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. The dress slid off my shoulders, a whisper of fabric pooling in a white heap at my feet. Marcus’s gaze was like a physical touch, tracing every inch of my newly exposed skin, and I felt more beautiful, more desired, than ever before.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice rough with awe. “You’re a dream.”

I pulled him toward me, my trembling fingers working frantically at the buttons of his dress shirt.

“It’s your turn,” I whispered, desperate to feel his skin against mine.

He laughed, a low, animal sound, and helped me along, yanking his shirt off and tossing it aside. Then his hands were on me again, his mouth on mine, and he guided me down onto the bed, covering my body

with his.

The outside world ceased to exist. There was only the touch of his skilled hands, exploring every curve he already knew, yet rediscovering me as if it were the first time. There was his taste on my lips, the sound of his ragged breathing in my ear, the rough whispers of love and possession.

“You’re mine,” he growled, burying his face into my neck as his hands and hips moved together in a perfect rhythm, driving me closer and closer to the edge. “My wife. My life. Everything.”

I gave myself to him completely, arching beneath him, my nails digging into his back as I guided him, begged him, asked for more-everything. The tension coiled inside me, tight and sweet, until I couldn’t hold it back anymore. His name tore from my lips in a muffled cry against his shoulder as the wave crashed over me, a rush of pure ecstasy that left me shaking and trembling in his arms, my vision going dark for a heartbeat in total surrender.

He held me as I came down from that peak, kissing my shoulder, my neck, whispering words of love. Only then did he let his own passion take over, his body shuddering over mine with a deep, guttural

groan.

We lay tangled together for what felt like forever, our heavy breathing slowly evening out, our bodies still pulsing with the echoes of what we’d shared. My heart thudded wildly against his chest, and a deep, satisfied, slightly wicked smile curved my lips.

Marcus pulled me closer, my head settling into the hollow of his neck.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and sleepy. “More than anything.”

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“I love you too,” I replied, my voice still weak and breathless. I pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “You know… “I started, my smile spreading. “I think I want to marry you every single day.”

I felt his body shake with a quiet laugh.

“Every day?” he asked, amused.

“Every day,” I confirmed, propping myself up on my elbow so I could look into his blissfully satisfied eyes. “If every wedding night ends like this… I want the ’till death do us part’ part every day.”

His eyes gleamed with pure mischief and possession before he pulled me back into a slow, deep, promising kiss.

“Then it’s a deal, wife,” he murmured against my lips. “We’ll get married again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after.”

“Perfect,” I sighed, curling into him, feeling complete, loved, and thoroughly undone.

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