Her Russian Billionaire (A BWWM Russian Oligarch Interracial Romance) (4 page)

A
few days later
, Dr. Grimes called me into her office again.

“Listen, Michelle,” she began. “I wanted to talk to you in a slightly… less official capacity.”

“Okay…” I replied, completely confused. Was I in trouble for something? “What is this about, Dr. Grimes? Did I do something wrong with that research project for Mr. Makarov?”

“No,” she assured with a smile. “Not at all! I just wanted to give you a piece of advice.” She paused. “There is nothing wrong with you dating Lex Makarov.”

“What?” I sat up in my chair, shocked.

“Even though he’s the CEO, he is not your boss in any direct way and he has no power over your job, so there is no conflict of interests. However, I would like to warn you that the gossip across the department—and maybe the entire hospital—will be incessant. Just prepare yourself.”

“I don’t understand,” I replied, still in shock. “I’m not seeing Makarov. Not romantically. And I have absolutely no desire to. I’m helping him out by going over the old cases, like he asked me. But that’s it. Strictly professional.”

I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate. Why did Dr. Grimes think that Makarov and I were seeing each other outside of work? Was my desire that transparent?

“Calm down, Michelle,” she said as she came around her desk to kneel by my chair. “I’m sorry I was mistaken. There’s just been a bit of hearsay going around lately. I know better than to believe rumors. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No,” I replied, finally able to catch my breath. “I’m glad you did. I needed to know.”

“If you think so,” Dr. Grimes replied, though she didn’t look convinced.

After promising her I was okay, I hurried out of her office and made my way towards the locker room to splash some water on my face. I passed Julia and Kyle in the hall, who simply raised their eyebrows at me questioningly, twin smirks on their faces.

That was where the rumor came from, I realized. I bypassed the ER lockers and headed up to the surgeons’ lounge. If I were lucky, Lori would have time for a quick drink after her shift that evening. Boy did I need it.

“They are just so horrible,” I complained to her a little later, a martini in my hand as Lori looked at me compassionately.

“They’re just jealous. You’ve been here just over a month and you’re already getting singled out—in the best way possible. You were asked to help in surgery. You presented at the M&M conference. Now you have a special project working with the CEO of the hospital.”

“You make it all sound so awesome,” I replied. “It’s not, I assure you.”

“It’s a little bit awesome,” Lori countered. “I’ve been at the hospital for twice as long as you and I haven’t gained that much experience outside of the surgery department.”

“It’s not experience. It’s punishment. It would be one thing if the rumors were true—but they are the furthest thing from the truth. The man is horrible. He is Satan. He’s only given me this extra task to get back at me for the things I said that night after the conference. I think he’s secretly trying to get me to quit my internship here.”

Unfortunately, Lori’s company was not the boon I had been hoping it would be. As I continued to talk, I grew angrier and angrier. After Lori excused herself to get home to her daughter—and away from my crazy ranting, I assumed—I sat alone and downed another martini.

The combination of alcohol and rage boiled in my bloodstream, and before I realized what I was doing, I was marching back through the hospital doors towards the elevators, committed to going upstairs and giving Makarov a piece of my mind.

It was late—past seven in the evening—but I knew Makarov would still be there. He was always in the office. His secretary had gone for the day though, so I knocked and barely waited until I heard a muffled “come in” before barging through the door.

I opened my mouth to tell Makarov exactly what I’d been thinking, but the sight before me caused me to stop in my tracks.

Makarov was at his desk, looking more disheveled than I had ever seen him. His jacket and tie were draped over his desk and his white oxford shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of lean, tanned skin. His hair, usually just a tiny bit mussed up, was shooting up in every direction, and there was a five-o’clock shadow on his face.

“Michelle… Dr. Carter, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He stood as he spoke, making his way out from behind his desk and towards me.

“I…” I lost my words. I licked my lips, trying to realign my train of thought, but all I could think about was running my hands through his mess of dark hair. Without thinking about it, I licked my lips again.

That must have been all of the answer that Makarov needed, as I was suddenly pushed back against the now-closed door, Makarov’s body pressing against me, his mouth on my own. With a moan, I opened to him, allowing him to dominate the kiss. After what could have been five seconds or a million years, he pulled away.

“God… I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he panted, pushing even further against me, rocking his hardening erection next to my thigh. “Since the moment in the bar—if not before. And then yesterday, you sauntered up here in that short skirt and tight top. Your body is to die for.”

I didn’t want him to know how badly he was affecting me—how I could feel the flames of desire burning in my stomach with his words. He wanted me. This hunky sexy man had been lusting after me. I could barely believe what I was hearing.

Desire was quickly replacing all of the rage that had been burning within me mere moments before. I attempted to cling to this anger. I tried to remain unaffected, even as I found myself rocking up against him in return. The sensation of his substantial length pressing against me made my mouth water. Images of burying it between my lips danced through my mind.

He shouldn’t get to have me, I reasoned halfheartedly—he didn’t get to use me and manipulate me, then turn around and fuck me. But even as I thought this, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. I was much too far-gone. I could feel the ache between my thighs, my juices trickling down to saturate my panties.

But, I reasoned in my lust-addled brain, I can do things my way, at least.

Dropping to my knees, I made fast work of his belt and fly, allowing his pants and underwear to pool around his feet. Soon, his large uncircumcised cock was heavy and springing in my hands as I stroked him gently. Softly, I pressed kisses along the base of his fat length, smirking as I felt him growing restless above me. Eventually, I laved my tongue against the hot member, swirling it tantalizingly around his sensitive head, pulling his foreskin back. I caught a drop of pre-cum on my tongue, savoring the flavor.

Suddenly, Makarov’s hands were on my head, pushing himself deeper into my mouth. At first I tried to fight his impatient thrusts, attempting to maintain control. But the truth was, I loved giving head. And it was something that Scott had never appreciated about me. Makarov seemed to appreciate it quite a bit, however, if his moans were anything to go by. So, after a brief internal battle, I gave in, relinquishing control, and enjoyed the sensation of his thick member pushing through my lips and sliding down my throat. Closing my eyes, I allowed him to fuck my face as I moaned around his cock.

Eventually, though, his hips became erratic and his panting heavier, so I opened my eyes and pushed away. He offered a little whine of complaint, but I only grinned up at him—doing my best to mirror the cocky smirk he always seemed to have on his face. He wasn’t going to get off that easily.

The expression on Makarov’s face—so wrecked and needy—sent another shiver of lust down my spine. He must have seen the hunger in my eyes, because he bent and easily lifted me as he turned to place me on top of his desk.

Before I knew what was going on, I was stretched back against his desk with my skirt up around my waist and my panties hanging off of one ankle. Makarov was standing above me, breathing heavily as he studied my body with an animalistic hunger in his eyes.

Suddenly, he was between my legs. I couldn’t help by cry out as his tongue pushed up inside me before latching on to my swollen clit. He sucked hard, flicking back and forth against my sensitive button.

Without taking his mouth off me, Makarov slid his fingers deep inside me, and I couldn’t help but thrust back on them. He sucked and fucked me with his strong digits until I was writhing in pleasure, crying out and shaking as my orgasm ripped through my body.

Before I had the time to collect my thoughts, I was being pulled up until my ankles were around Makarov’s neck. Then, without so much as a word, he thrust his massive length deep inside me. I cried out in pleasure that was just on the right side of pain, feeling my body stretch around him as he thrust into me, hard and fast.

Reaching down, he circled my clit with his finger again as he pounded into my body. It didn’t take long before another orgasm was quaking through my body, and I felt Makarov freeze above me and something warm pump and spread through me as he came deep inside me.

Panting heavily, I tried to clear my head from two of the most amazing orgasms I’d ever experienced—back to back. But then I could feel his juices dripping out of me and the reality of the situation began to sink in. I’d just let a man I barely knew—who was a complete jerk and who owned the hospital I worked in—fuck me without a condom. I’d never let Scott do that, and we’d been together for over three years.

Shame washed over me. Without saying a word, I stood and pulled up my panties as I straightened my skirt. Without so much as a glance at Makarov, I turned and walked out of the office. My tears were falling by the time I hit the elevators.

What was I going to do now?

T
he waiting room
of the doctor’s office was large and airy, with eastern facing windows that let in the bright early morning sunlight. I still found the room oppressive as I huddled in a corner, last month’s
Cosmo
open in my lap. There was no way I could concentrate on any reading at all. I was too busy biting my nails and berating myself for what I had done a few nights before.

The last month had been one of the hardest I’d ever experienced in my entire life. Making it through medical school at the top of my class was a piece of cake compared to everything I’d had to deal with over the course of the last four weeks. I’d moved across the country to start an internship at Miami General, a prestigious privately owned hospital on the coast of Florida. I’d said goodbye to everyone and everything I knew and loved and had yet to establish any strong ties in my new state of residence.

During my first month on the job, I’d witnessed a fatality on the operating room table. The death had been upsetting but what followed made it so much worse. I’d then been forced to present the circumstances of that fatality at the hospital’s monthly Morbidity and Mortality conference. At the conference, I’d been interrogated by the CEO of the hospital—a young, cocky Russain man by the name of Lex Makarov.

Later that same evening, Makarov had overheard me badmouthing him to my friend Lori and had decided to punish me by giving me extra work. He had tasked me with examining previous cases of patient fatalities and/or possible patient mistreatment that had occurred at Miami General over the previous few years.

As if that hadn’t made things stressful enough, I was also fighting a losing battle with my most basic desires when it came to Makarov, whose intense grey eyes and self-assured smile wouldn’t leave my thoughts. Anger and lust slowly built inside me over the course of the next few weeks, as I had had to work closely with the man.

I couldn’t explain my attraction to him, and it was clearly an attraction, not just lust. It had to do with his confidence, I guessed. And his ability—intended or not—to instill some of that confidence in me. Unlike many people in my life up till now, he seemed supportive of my goals of being the best doctor I could be. His attitude almost soothed me. But part of me also believed that he was just an asshole.

All that aside, a few days ago, things had finally come to a head, and I made the biggest mistake of my entire life.

I’d gotten slightly buzzed and gone to Makarov’s office late in the evening, having decided to tell the cocksure jackass off. Instead, I’d ended up having wild, passionate sex with him on top of the desk in his office. Even worse, we had done it without a condom. The memory of those actions was very nearly enough to bring me to tears as I waited to see a doctor.

“Michelle Carter,” called a nurse, breaking me out of my thoughts. As if in a haze, I followed the nurse back towards the examination room.

“Is this your first time seeing Dr. James?” she asked with a smile as she checked my weight and my blood pressure.

“Yes,” I replied. “I’m new in town. I’ve only been here for a just over a month.”

“Welcome,” she chirped with a smile, making notes on her clipboard. “What brings you to town?”

“I’m an intern here at Miami General,” I replied, though I was a bit ashamed to divulge that fact when I was about to admit to having unprotected sex. I was supposed to be somebody who
knew
better.

“And what brings you in today?” she asked, as if reading my mind. “It says in your chart that you’ve already had a check-up this year.”

“Yeah…” I started. I looked down at my nails, holding back tears as I continued. “I had unprotected sex the other night.”

“Oh,” replied the nurse, though she didn’t let her smile falter. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here. Is this your first time having unprotected sex?”

“Yes,” I assured her—perhaps a little too vehemently.

“Okay,” she said as she scribbled more notes. “And how well did you know your partner?”

“Not very,” I admitted. “I mean… he is a coworker—of sorts. He wasn’t a complete stranger. He works for the hospital so he’s probably been tested recently.”

“Did you ask him about STIs?”

“No. I…” I didn’t really know how to tell her that I’d freaked out and ran away as soon as I’d realized what we had done.

“It’s okay,” she assured me. “We’re just going to draw some blood and run tests for STIs. Because this was such a recent occurrence, there is a chance you could test negative for infections you may have contracted, as you probably know, so we’ll need to see you back here in a few weeks for follow up tests, regardless of your test results today.”

“Okay,” I nodded.

“And, according to your chart, you are not on any birth control, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” I answered, still staring at my hands ashamedly.

“Well, then Dr. James should talk about your options for unwanted pregnancy as well.”

I nodded.

“You do know that at your weight, the Morning After Pill is really only about twenty percent effective.”

“What?” My head shooting up to meet her gaze.

“The doctor can prescribe the pill to you, but your BMI is a little high for the pill to be fully effective.”

“What are my other options?” I asked, trying not to panic.

“Well,” she began, “the best course of action for now is to wait and see if you are pregnant. When was your last period?”

“About a week and a half ago,” I replied.

“And are you pretty regular?”

I nodded again, unable to find words. I did know about the Morning After Pill, from my Ob/Gyn rotation back in med school, but I’d completely forgotten all about it.

“It will be a few weeks until a pregnancy would show up on a test,” she answered. “My advice to you is to wait until after your period is scheduled to start, then take a test. Pregnancy tests can be very inconclusive until about a week after your missed period. Even if you don’t miss your period, you should still get tested at that time. Often, periods occur in the first trimester of a pregnancy, so you want to be sure. At that point, all we can do is talk about your options.”

I smiled and thanked her, even though none of this was new information. I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. The doctor came in to see me after that, though she simply repeated the exact same information the nurse had just explained. I then waited patiently for a lab technician to arrive and draw my blood. I had yet to eat breakfast, and between having blood drawn and the revelations of the morning, I was feeling pretty queasy by the time I left the doctor’s office. Thankfully, today was my scheduled day off, so I was able to head home and crawl back into bed.

Curling up in my comforter, I finally allowed the tears to fall freely down my face. I felt like such a failure. The worst part of the entire scenario—at least in my opinion—was that the man I’d had unprotected sex with was such a manipulative asshole.

And even knowing full well that Makarov wasn’t worth my time or energy, and I had made the worse mistake of my life in allowing myself to have unprotected sex with him—I couldn’t stop thinking about the man. From the first moment I saw him smile, the night he overheard me in the bar, I had not been able to stop thinking about him.

I barely noticed that my tears had dried as I absentmindedly slipped one hand beneath the elastic of my sweatpants. I was already wet, just thinking about him—even in a negative light, so I slowly circled my throbbing clit as I fantasized about the man in question: his pale grey eyes that seemed to peer inside my soul; the cocky attitude and smug grin, which always suggested that he knew exactly what I was thinking when I looked at him; the way his swollen, dripping, uncut cock had felt and tasted against my tongue; the way he’d so easily lifted me onto his desk and pounded into me like his life depended on it. Allowing myself to let go of my troubles for a few minutes, I welcomed the pleasure that washed over me at the memories of what we had done.