The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 1

by Bethany-Kris

  She hated that.

  Once she had her arms locked around her child, Maria settled, closing her eyes as her mother kissed her temple, and sung a sweet lullaby she remembered her own mama singing to her long ago. As she finished the song, Maria sighed.

  “Do you remember the promise you made to Chris today?” she whispered to her daughter.

  Maria nodded. “I will not tell.”

  “That’s a good girl.”

  She didn’t want to put her daughter in that position, but she also didn’t think she gave Maria enough credit, either. Maria was smart—quick as a whip. She recognized when something didn’t seem right, or rather, when something was.

  Chris was right.

  Just in different ways.

  “Do you like Chris?” Maria asked.

  Valeria blinked. “I ... that’s not an easy question.”

  “Why not?”

  Because it was complex.

  Difficult.

  Dangerous.

  Yes, she liked that man. She more than liked him. With nothing more than his presence, and attention, he showed her good men existed. He reminded her she deserved care, and adoration by someone like him. He made her want him more than anything ... she wanted happiness, and if possible, she wanted to find it with him. She knew happiness because he had given her glimpses. And at night, when it was just the two of them away from the rest of the world, he’d given her back the ability to be her own woman, too, although she didn’t think he understood that.

  She loved seeing him with her daughter because he never dismissed her child. He didn’t walk past Maria without at the least, stopping to speak to her. He handled Maria with kindness, grace, and a tender heart, as a good man should.

  She cared for Chris because of many reasons, and wanted him.

  And she had more reasons why she couldn’t have him. At least, not right now. Valeria wasn’t the type to punish herself. So, she forced herself not to think about him at all because that was easier.

  For now.

  “It just isn’t,” she told her daughter.

  Maria shrugged in her mother’s hold. “I like him.”

  Valeria smiled. “Oh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because he doesn’t hurt you,” Maria said, “and he likes you. That’s why I like him.”

  “That’s all?”

  Maria nodded. “That’s all, Mamá.”

  Huh.

  Children were still children. The only people on the earth who looked past the surface to see what was underneath. Children saw bad things, and yet, still found the good, too.

  That was their innocence.

  The beauty of kids.

  They found hope.

  Possibility.

  Even when no one else did.

  “I like him,” Valeria murmured into her daughter’s hair.

  Although, if Maria heard it, she didn’t acknowledge it. Valeria was fine with that because she wasn’t sure how to deal with this herself. Away from this place, at a different time, had she met Chris ... it would have been amazing.

  They could be wonderful.

  And maybe—God, maybe—if she had the chance he promised her to get away from here, and live her life the way she wanted, then she might let herself feel all those things she kept holding at bay. For now, though, she didn’t dare.

  Heartache was one thing.

  Heartbreak was quite another.

  Valeria was not ready for that. Giving her heart to a man she couldn’t be with would only bring her pain.

  Someday, that might change.

  Her thoughts were a whisper.

  They reminded her hope wasn’t dead.

  Not yet.

  • • •

  Valeria had closed the door to her daughter’s bedroom when Jorge came stumbling drunk down the hall. His drinking had become more regular, and that concerned her if only because he was a mean drunk, and she always seemed to be right in his fucking line of fire.

  “Hermosa,” Jorge slurred, coming closer to her. “We need to celebrate, woman.”

  Valeria took a careful step backward. “Why?”

  She ignored the red lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt, and the undone buttons because she didn’t give a fuck who put it there as long as it wasn’t her. The strands of his hair stuck up everywhere. Sweat dotted his forehead and wrinkles covered his slacks.

  It wasn’t like Jorge to be messy.

  Except lately, he was more often than not.

  He reached out for her when she was close enough and grabbed onto her. Valeria didn’t have the chance to react before his disgusting mouth came down on hers. The taste of the rum he had been drinking flooded her tongue, making her want to gag. Her hands hit his chest, ready to push him away even though that would cause her more trouble.

  She didn’t get the chance.

  In a flash, the two of them stumbled into their bedroom. Jorge stepped back from her, realizing where they were, and grinned. He pointed a finger at her while pulling his shirt down his arms, and nodding.

  “Ah, now get undressed for me, sí?” He winked, as stupid as that looked. “Slowly, Val. I like that, don’t you?”

  God.

  “You’re too drunk,” she told him.

  Jorge rolled his eyes and fell back to the foot of the bed to get his shoes off. “I am not. Get undressed, or I will cut the fucking clothes off you.”

  She didn’t doubt it.

  She also didn’t lie.

  He struggled to pull the leather loafers from his feet, almost falling face first to the floor. Another night, and she might have laughed at him. Except, the time closed in on eleven-thirty, and in a half an hour, she needed to meet Chris in the stables. She hadn’t forgotten about that.

  If she could help it, she would not let her husband touch her one more fucking time. She searched for a way out of this situation while Jorge continued to struggle with his shoes, and his socks, too, when he finally removed the loafers.

  “What are you standing there for?” he snapped up at her.

  Jesus Christ.

  The last thing she wanted was this drunk pig hauling his body on top of hers to get himself off—whiskey dick was a real thing, and not specific to only whiskey, either. Sex with Jorge was bad enough when he stayed sober although she didn’t think of him raping her as sex. When he was drunk, though, it became a whole different horror.

  “Did you remember to let the kitten in?” she asked, hoping for a distraction.

  Jorge’s brow furrowed, and sleepy eyes stared up at her.

  Hazy eyes, too, she noticed. Drunk as fuck. She might have asked him how much he drank downstairs before coming up to bed if she cared. Except she didn’t, and really, if he gave himself alcohol poisoning, she would not cry about it.

  Damn.

  Might he fall asleep if she gave him the chance?

  Pass right out?

  “What kitten?” he slurred again.

  “Never mind,” she blurted, “I will use the bathroom—freshen up, okay? I’ll be right back out. Lay back and take a break. You deserve it.”

  Right.

  That’s what he deserved.

  Jorge sighed, pleased with her submissiveness. That’s all this bastard ever wanted. To believe Valeria was willing and capable of going along with whatever he needed and demanded. He was easier to handle but shit ... it killed her to do it.

  No point in lying.

  “All right,” he mumbled, folding his arms behind his head, “but don’t be too long. I need a good sleep. Big things happening tomorrow.”

  “Oh, like what?”

  She asked the question over her shoulder as she headed for the bathroom. Moving around inside the space, turning on the taps and lifting the toilet seat to make it seem like she was doing something, he wouldn’t know the difference if he stayed resting on the bed. Knowing Jorge like she did, when he was drunk, if he stayed on his back for long enough, he would fall asleep.

/>   A win-win for her.

  Stupid, yes.

  Risky, absolutely.

  Valeria didn’t care. Not right now. Not knowing soon, Chris would leave, and tonight was the last chance she would have to be with him. She would do what she needed to do.

  “Business, Val,” he muttered, “with the Canadian.”

  “Chris?”

  “Mmm, I don’t like him.”

  “Why?”

  “He looks at you too much.”

  Valeria stiffened near the sink.

  How often did Jorge watch when she didn’t pay attention?

  “Does he? I never noticed.”

  “They all look at you, woman ... but they’re smart about it. He doesn’t care, and I don’t ... like that.”

  His words came slower, now, so Valeria kept talking as she pretended to wash her hands.

  “I don’t notice,” she admitted. “What are you celebrating?”

  “The deal is ...”

  “Hmm?”

  “Completed,” Jorge mumbled. A beat of silence passed before he asked almost unintelligibly, “Are you finished?”

  “Just about.”

  She took a minute to dry her hands, and brushed her teeth, a familiar sound echoed into the bathroom.

  Snoring.

  Valeria smiled at her reflection.

  It worked.

  She came out of the bathroom, and sure enough, Jorge had passed out on the bed with his arms still acting as a pillow beneath his head. Using the blanket that acted as a decoration on the chair in the corner, she covered him. Not because she cared should he become cold, but because he slept better when he was warm, and she needed him to stay asleep for as long as possible.

  Should he wake up, and realize she wasn’t in the room, that wouldn’t be good for her. She also turned on the small radio ... just in case someone came to knock on the door, it was unlikely the noise would even disturb him.

  Valeria glanced over her shoulder as she closed the bedroom door behind her when she left, only to see Jorge snoring away.

  Alcohol was good for that.

  She used it enough to sleep next to that man.

  • • •

  Valeria tiptoed through the stables, her heart in her throat as she passed stall after stall, realizing Chris wasn’t there at all. She’d not expected him to be out in the open but it seemed like he hadn’t been here.

  She almost passed the final stall, resolving herself to sneak back to the house—their chance at a stolen moment gone, when someone yanked her into that last stall of the stables on the right. They used it to store care items, feed, and other things for the horses. Including blankets, if a terrible night or a storm came through unexpectedly.

  Valeria barely had the chance to catch her breath before Chris’s lips found the back of her neck as her chest met the stall wall. God, she didn’t even care that the rough wood might leave a splinter in her palms when his hands fisted into the skirt of the wrap dress she had thrown on to leave the house.

  “Val,” he started.

  “Just fuck me,” she breathed, “and we’ll talk later.”

  If they had the chance.

  That’s what made desperate sex the best kind of sex. She was sure.

  Chris never made her feel even the smallest bit unsafe. Not when his touches came rougher, and her cheek pressed to the wood. Not when his teeth dragged across the racing pulse in her throat while his hands shoved her dress high before slipping between her thighs to cup her sex. He squeezed her pussy, fingers sliding through her wetness to prove how fucking much she wanted his.

  Valeria drowned out the sounds of her pleasure into her palm as Chris worked her pussy open with his fingers first. Wet sounds filled the stall as his fingers pushed and pulled, twisting into her G-spot with every curl of the tips. Her hips jerked, a sensation like she had never experienced before spiraling through her gut when his lips danced across her ear lobe.

  His words?

  A dark promise.

  “Feel that?” he asked, “You’re about to rain all over my hand, Val. You’ll leave a fucking puddle in this stall. I bet you haven’t done that before, huh?”

  “No, never.”

  It almost embarrassed her. The very idea.

  Yet, she didn’t have time to think about it before she came. And not just an orgasm that seemed so fucking good, but one that almost brought her to her knees from the intensity. It started deep within her womb and flared outward with violent intent. The rush of wetness between her legs, hot and slick, came fast. It ruined her panties, but that didn’t seem to matter to Chris as he pulled his hands free from her pussy only to yank the soaked undies down her legs.

  He was back on her, fast with those same dirty words promising she would see stars and gonna be so fucking good when I’m done, babe while his hands went back to working on getting her dress off entirely. Valeria only had time to catch her breath while Chris stepped back from her to take care of himself, shedding his clothes, and sheathing his cock in latex before he was back behind her.

  One hand slid under her right thigh, lifting it high and the head of his dick slid through her sensitive slit. That wet sound came back, a reminder of her own arousal and how hot she was for him.

  “Breath,” he demanded.

  She did, sucking in a hard breath. He thrust in, seating himself all the way inside her pussy with one flex of his hips. She’d been so ready to take him, her need indescribable, until he was filling her full and stretching her open.

  “Oh, my God,” Valeria whimpered.

  “Hold on,” Chris murmured along the column of her throat.

  She did, finding purchase with one hand on the wall, and the other reaching back to grasp onto his hips as he pounded into her from behind. His lips found her neck, kissing and tasting and biting her into bliss while his cock drove her crazy with every fast, deep stroke.

  It was too much, and not enough.

  “I c-can’t—I can’t ...”

  Valeria couldn’t form words, or explain that she hovered right on the precipice of an orgasm that would leave her in shattered pieces on the ground, if only he gave her a bit more. The words wouldn’t come, and yet it didn’t even matter.

  Chris knew.

  How to work her ...

  How to play her body ...

  All of it.

  His hand on her hip slid around to the front of her body, drifting between her thighs, so his fingertips rubbed tight circles into her clit while his other arm wrapped tight around her chest. The air exploded out of her chest in a high cry. Probably too loud for their current circumstances as the orgasm tore through her body with devastating intent.

  It was heaven.

  And she would die happily like that.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Chris said, his words a hoarse murmur along her throat, “that’s what I wanted, babe. Come all over that cock—fucking now. Take it all, Valeria.”

  Each thrust that followed his words came deeper and harder inside her pussy, accompanied by the jerking of his hands against her body with his own orgasm.

  Her air wouldn’t come, or her thoughts.

  And that was okay.

  It meant, for that moment with him, she didn’t have to feel anything at all.

  But especially not the pain.

  16.

  “What do I do now?”

  Valeria’s voice was a whisper, her gaze locked on the stall instead of him where he wanted it. Chris didn’t mind because he figured everyone had to protect themselves, and Valeria’s way was like this. He didn’t take offense, even if he wished this woman knew he was doing everything in his power to get her away from this place, and happy again.

  “You give me time, and before you know it, I’ll be back to—”

  “No, me, I mean. What am I supposed to do now?”

  Chris tipped his head down and pressed a kiss to the line of Valeria’s naked shoulder. He couldn’t resist her on his lips—her scent had mixed with his, and it reminded him of woma
n, sex, and heaven. “I don’t understand, love.”

  Two blankets he grabbed from the stable shelves kept the hay-covered floor of the stall soft enough for them to rest comfortably on. The other, he’d used to wrap around his shoulders before he tightened the ends around them both. The high stall door allowed them to remain unseen from the stables, and other than the six-inch space at the bottom where he saw out into the main corridor, no one had a view of them unless they opened the door.

  No one came into the stables this late though.

  He knew because he watched.

  “You,” she whispered.

  Chris made a noise under his breath, thick and unsure. “Val—”

  She sighed. “You know, before when I was on the run, I went years without being in a relationship—but is that what we can call this? Should we call it that?”

  Huh.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but we can call it whatever you want to call it. I want what you want that’s all.”

  Hadn’t she figured that out yet?

  Chris didn’t think it needed to make sense, but frankly, why should it? They hadn’t met under normal circumstances. She wasn’t the average woman, and he wasn’t every other man, either. They couldn’t simplify anything they did together down to one label, but he didn’t care. As long as he still had moments like this with her, rather it be now or when she was away from here, then that was all that mattered to him at the end.

  Valeria tipped her head back and rested it against the crook in his shoulder. It gave Chris the perfect chance to kiss her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth. So, he did just that. He thought about this woman, and all the things he wanted to do with her—to her—far more often than he should.

  This job turned out to be more than he expected, but he wouldn’t complain. How could he when, he’d found an angel?

  Someone was looking out for him.

  “I meant ...” Valeria gave him a sweet smile when he used the pad of his thumb to trace the line of her cheekbone while he watched her. She didn’t possibly know it, but he found her most fascinating like this. She didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. Happy, pleased, and content. All his. As she should be, he decided. “I tried to date, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” he rumbled.