Old Money Roulette: Complete Trilogy

by Natalie Bennett

  Had circumstances been different, I could have stood and admired it for hours on end.

  Mateo walked around me and pulled one of the chairs out. I took it and acknowledged him with a quiet “Thank you”, sinking down on the soft suede cushion.

  The man had a neon arrow with the word asshole on it pointing straight at his head, but still managed to be a chivalrous gentleman. He sat beside me at the head of the table—no surprise there.

  “Eat something.” It was a command. They were always gentle; he never raised his voice at me. Even when his words cut me deep, they were always spoken eloquently.

  Withholding a sigh, I selected a massive blueberry muffin from a wicker basket and poured myself some fresh orange juice.

  “What are you, a bird?” he admonished, sliding my plate away.

  He took it upon himself to load it up with every item on the table before placing it back in front of me.

  “I love your juicy thighs and bubbly ass. If you don’t start eating more, you’ll lose both.”

  I couldn’t find it in me to be upset about that, considering I liked my body too, but my appetite was in disagreement.

  I took a bite of eggs Benedict just to appease him. The taste was delightful, but with my mind so preoccupied, I didn’t get to savor it the way I usually would have.

  He waited until I’d forced more than two mouthfuls of food down my throat before sliding the first paper across the smooth tabletop.

  My neck stiffened as I looked over it. I knew what it was: a copy of a deed to my parents’ home with both me and Mateo’s name on it, giving us equal ownership.

  Before I could question him, another copied document joined it.

  This one was a promissory note with a sum of three hundred-thousand dollars, and my full name written beneath it.

  I looked from the papers to Mateo for an explanation.

  “The first is proof that you and I are the sole owners of the Rias estate. The second is the debt your family owes mine. The twenty grand hasn’t been deducted.” He explained in a businesslike tone, confirming what I’d feebly hoped wasn’t true.

  The food I’d just eaten soured in my stomach. An image of the duffel bag Eva had left behind flashed through my mind. She couldn’t have been that fucking stupid as to steal from this man. God, what was she thinking?

  “How did you––I don’t understand. Who gave you half ownership of the house?”

  “Look at the signature. Your father gave it to me. He gave me you, too,” he tacked on, almost absentmindedly.

  With a scowl, I set my attention back to the documents.

  Sure enough, my father’s full name was scrawled on both.

  “Papá would never do this. He hated you,” I vehemently objected.

  His poker face was too perfected for me to know if my last statement bothered him. I imagined it didn’t.

  “Yet, I was the one he came to for help. And as you can see right in front of your face, he willingly signed both.”

  He remained completely undeterred, pouring himself a glass of Ambrose liquor from a diamond encrusted decanter, and continuing to eat his breakfast.

  I stared down at the papers, noting that they were dated a year and a half prior to my father’s death, adding another sleuth of questions to my ever growing pile.

  Both had a notary stamp and witness signatures of people I didn’t know, but I wasn’t a stranger to how these things worked.

  The circular watermark was nothing more than a decoration. Everything always came down to principle: if you owed someone money, you either paid up, or dealt with the blowback, and giving your word was the equivalent of pawning your soul.

  It seemed that was exactly what my father had done. Something about this situation was disturbingly off. There was a sinister aura about the whole thing warning me away. Every answer led to another hidden skeleton in the Rias family crypt that needed to be pieced back together.

  “How did this happen?” I mumbled to myself, leaning back in my chair. A dull throb began in the back of my skull. My list of problems was seriously getting out of hand.

  I felt as if I were on the verge of falling in a black hole that was steadily getting deeper and darker.

  Suddenly, the papers were gone. Before I could protest, Mateo was out of his chair and flinging the entire folder into the hungry flames swaying in the fireplace.

  I sucked in a sharp breath and rushed around the table. “No! Why would you do that?” I reached for them on auto-pilot. They may have just been copies, but they were the only ones I had. Mateo would never give me the originals.

  “Goddamnit, Ley,” he grumbled. He grabbed hold of my wrists and pulled me away from the fiery embers I was dangerously close to letting burn my flesh.

  “You had no right! Why did you do that?”

  “Because I don’t give a shit about the money, the estate, or your dysfunctional pity party of a family. I care about you.”

  I stood in denial, my gaze darting back to where the last bit of the folder was curling in on itself and turning to ash.

  I felt like I’d just lost something important, a link to my father. A clue to what was going on. It made no sense. I couldn’t pinpoint why I even felt this way. My behavior was bordering on irrational, but I couldn’t get a hold of myself.

  “You truly think I do not care for you, Elena?” Mateo asked in a scathing tone, forcing my attention back to him with an unspoken command.

  “I asked you a question.” He slipped an arm around my back and turned so I was flat against the wall beside the fireplace, caging me in with his hands on either side of my head.

  “Answer me,” he coolly demanded, his eyes boring into mine.

  The abrupt change in his demeanor was so swift, I could almost believe he’d just been swapped with a doppelgänger when I wasn’t paying attention.

  “I-I—”

  “Don’t stutter when you speak. It makes you look nervous and I can practically smell your fear.”

  My anger flared. “You don’t give a damn about me, Mateo. Just like I don’t give a damn about this fucking game you want to play.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, anjo.” He laughed and dropped one hand, moving it straight between my thighs where there was no barrier to stop his skilled fingers from exploring my slit.

  “Stop.” I reached down to remove his hand as my lower stomach clenched.

  He easily ensnared my wrist, capturing the other one at the same time and banding them together.

  “I don’t like the way you just used that word. In fact, stop and no don’t exist in your vocabulary unless you’re begging me not to stop fucking you.”

  Something akin to a growl erupted from my throat as I struggled, causing my slutty dress to lift over my hips.

  He wedged his leg between my thighs to make a gap, and then dropped to his knees, keeping firm hold of my wrists.

  With his free hand, he gently rubbed the bruises he’d left the night before, and then, without prelude, two fingers stretched open the lips of my pussy, exposing my ugly truth.

  “I could go swimming between your thighs right now.” He sucked his teeth, shaking his head.

  “Mateo!” My lips parted in disbelief when he leaned in and deeply inhaled.

  “Mmm, you still smell of our last fuck.”

  He followed his statement by pushing two digits inside me, stretching what was still sore from the vigorous night before.

  The burn felt better than it should have. A mixture of a groan and a whimper escaped from my mouth.

  “If I did not care about you, you’d already be dead.” He removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, licking me from front to back and back to front.

  Our eyes locked, and my thoughts centered on him, my arousal increasing. I watched my juices drip from his chin and travel over his tastebuds.

  My muscles slowly began to lose their tension as he continued to eat me. I wantonly spread my legs further, giving him better access.

  “
Mateo,” I moaned, rising up on my tiptoes as he worked his tongue deeper inside me, groaning appreciatively in the back of his throat.

  “Say it again,” he commanded.

  The pad of his thumb pressed down on my clit, swaying back and forth, heightening my rapidly building pleasure.

  “Mateo,” I moaned louder, curling my nails into my palms.

  “If I did not care about you, I wouldn’t be staking my claim on you by giving you my last name. Every filho da puta in Vice City will know you belong to me.”

  I shook my head and opened my mouth to speak, gasping when he shoved his fingers back inside me, adding a third.

  “This tight little pussy is mine,” he affirmed, pumping faster, harder.

  He turned his head, the stubble on his face rubbing against my thigh. His lips grazed the darker colored skin as he opened his mouth and bit down.

  I yelped in equal parts shock and pain that quickly turned to pleasure when he soothed the savage sting with his tongue, never once stopping his fingers from plunging in and out of my pussy.

  I broke free of him just in time to grab hold of his muscled shoulders when he shot back to his feet.

  I tried to catch my breath, swallowing repeatedly. I licked my juices off his face as if he were my favorite flavor of lollipop.

  He worked his cock out of his slacks and the confines of his briefs, guiding it inside me without further pretense.

  His rough intrusion had me screaming his name and clawing at him. I held onto his shoulders to keep myself grounded as he hooked one leg over his hip. Our height difference coupled with my lingering soreness made the position that much more intense.

  Our mouths collided in a mass of moans, ragged breaths, and sweet, pain filled bites.

  There wasn’t anything gentle about what we were doing. It wasn’t sex. This was fucking, plain and simple.

  Everything else faded into the background. My emotional inferno went up in smoke, and I drowned in the sea of him.

  There was no stopping the continuous moans from unfurling in my chest and spilling out of my mouth.

  I had an acute awareness of how fast my pulse was racing.

  He slowed, abruptly, tightening his grip. “Do you feel this?” He accentuated his question with a harsh roll of his hips. “Answer me, anjo.”

  I bit down on my lower lip, stifling a whimper when he repeated the motion.

  “I feel it, I feel you,” I breathily replied, stumbling over my words.

  “You feel my dick. You feel me fucking you, giving your greedy pussy what it wants.”

  I agreed resolutely.

  “You want more?” he asked, continuing to piston his hips slowly.

  “Yes.” It came out sounding like a needy plea...exactly what it was.

  “You aren’t ever going to deny me again. The second you do, I’m turning you around and fucking your ass until it’s raw and my dick is chafed.” He began to speed up, each word enunciated with a solid thrust.

  “Keep telling me how much you want my dick, Ley.” His breathing increased, and his muscles bunched beneath his suit as he resumed his previous pace.

  Words spilled from my mouth as I did what he said, needing to feel him. They blended together into hoarse, unintelligible whispers, my concentration slipping along with my voice.

  I didn’t play devil’s advocate and claim this was my body betraying me. I wanted him in every conceivable way someone could want another.

  He was looking at me as if I were the only woman in his universe.

  It made my heart quiver and my breaths quicken. I let myself feel every hard, delightful inch of him, pulling his body closer.

  I shut my eyes and buried my face in his chest so I could breathe him in. He forced me to look at him again, wrapping his free hand around my throat and starting to squeeze, fucking me harder.

  My pussy continued to drench his cock and balls as I veered towards my climax. He dug one hand into my right globe, slightly angling me so he could go deeper.

  He knew exactly how and where to touch me to make me get off.

  I moaned loudly, holding back his name with a harsh nip of the tongue as pleasure zipped up my spine.

  “Belissimo,” he breathed, watching my every facial expression as I blissfully rode my orgasmic high. He attacked my mouth with his, sucking on my tongue and nipping at my lips as he found his own release, balls deep inside me.

  We stayed entwined, sweaty foreheads touching, inhaling as the other exhaled. After a few minutes, or what could have been hours, he gently lowered my leg before slowly pulling out, tucking his slick cock back into his briefs, and fixing his slacks.

  I wanted to hit pause and stay the way we were, just me and him in this little bubble.

  Silently, he pulled my dress back down and took my hand, leading me out of the room and bursting it.

  Chapter Four

  I looked around his sumptuous master suite.

  It was impossible to miss the packing boxes stacked on the right side of his massive four poster bed. I knew it was my minimal amount of belongings the moment I spotted the bright blue laptop bag with the unicorn keychain.

  “What is this?” I asked solemnly.

  “This is me compromising,” he replied.

  I waited on him to elaborate; instead, he led me to the bright and airy bathroom.

  I kicked my heels off my aching feet, taking in the Carrara marble, the shower with an ocean view window, dual vanities, and a soaking tub overlooking the meandering coastline. At the end of the room was a set of French doors opening to a balcony.

  This felt surreal.

  I’d just been coming to terms with being back at my parents’ estate, adjusting from the rundown bungalow I’d lived in for the past few years. Now I was here, in a room of pure opulence, with come running down my legs.

  I caught a glimpse of my reflection and cringed. My hair looked like tumbleweed, my skin was flushed, my lips were swollen, and there was no mistaking what I’d been doing for the past two days.

  Mateo turned the shower on, and then returned to where I’d remained standing.

  He looked down at me, bringing his hand back to my throbbing pussy, grazing my sensitive clit.

  He coated his fingertips in our sticky mess and then brought them to my mouth.

  “Open,” he roughly commanded.

  With zero hesitation, I parted my lips, swirling my tongue over his thick digits.

  “By the way you’re eagerly sucking come off my fingers, I’d say you very much give a damn, anjo.”

  I swallowed the taste of us, refusing to admit what we both knew. With Mateo, my dangerously unorthodox prescription, running through my veins, my head was a much clearer place. The truth was reflecting from my brown eyes into his golden ones.

  I could deny it till I my voice no longer worked, but the truth was I had fallen for him.

  The moment I saw his face, I pinned it on my soul.

  I fell hard, I fell fast, and he hadn’t quite let me hit the ground, but I almost wish he would have because this splinter in my chest was hell.

  In a million ways for a million different reasons that would never make sense to anyone other than the two of us, I wanted him.

  He brushed a few stray hairs away from my face and tucked them behind my ear.

  “I’m still infatuated. You’re still mine. And I still mean that in every barbaric, possessive, fucked up way there is. That means putting my ring on a certain finger attached to your left hand and having twenty-four-seven access to every fuckable hole on your body.”

  He grasped my jaw when I attempted to divert my gaze. “I want to make you a deal and amend what we previously discussed. I can show you where your sister is or I can do one better, but that will be contingent on you saying yes or no.”

  “What kind of deal?” I asked slowly.

  “Take my last name without argument. Play the role I need you to play in the game. Do exactly as I say, and in time, I’ll give you everything you need to uncov
er the truth and answer all your questions.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek and rubbed my lips together. His cryptic wording had a million possibilities racing through my mind.

  “I don’t…” I trailed off, flustered by the situation in its entirety.

  “You don’t have to answer me right now. I have some errands to run, so sleep on it. I just want you to remember something when you think it over, no matter what your answer is.”

  He placed his hands on the front of my thighs, continuing to watch me closely.

  “This sexy, supple body is mine.”

  His flattened palms floated to my sides, coming up the length of my torso to rest on either side of my neck. I could smell myself on his fingers and his breath.

  “There is no one else for me, but you. And there is no else for you, but me.”

  He leaned in, skimming his soft lips over mine and gently stroking the column of my throat with his thumb. “All I’m missing is your heart, and by the time I’m done penetrating every corner of your mind, I’ll have that too. I will own every part of you,” he promised with a firm kiss on the center of my forehead.

  His phone began to ring, interrupting the moment and making him abruptly pull away. Barely glancing at the screen, he silenced the call. I stood, searching for my bearings and painfully throbbing between my legs.

  I sent a silent prayer up, hoping that he couldn’t really see me as clearly as it felt like he did.

  He seemed to strip my soul down to its barren bones with a single daunting look. As if I were a vivid picture book, words weren’t necessary for him to read me and learn all my secrets.

  At my prolonged silence, he continued.

  “The key fob to the car is in the middle console. I’ll—”

  “So I can leave?” I interrupted.

  He gave me an odd look and spoke slowly. “Unless I tell you otherwise or we have somewhere to be, you’re not a prisoner, Elena. This is our home, not a place of confinement. However, I want you to stay in for the day, shower, unpack, and relax.”

  Home, I thought, turning the word over in my head.

  “What did you tell my grandmother and uncle?” I felt the need to know, remembering her threat to me if I didn’t do the things she wanted.