He groans and pinches. “Yes, squeeze my cock just like that. Make me come.”
When I clench my inner muscles, he falls forward with a curse, catching his weight with his palms on the edge of the tub. His chest is pressed against my back. Even if I can’t take him any deeper he thrusts his hips up, claiming every piece of me he can.
I feel the exact moment he snaps, the moment every part of his body goes rigid and his cock grows thicker inside me. When he reaches for the bath oil, I’m reminded that Gabriel is still the hard lover from before. I squirm when the cap lifts with a click, but he holds me down with a hand between my shoulder blades and squirts the liquid down the crack of my ass.
I know what this means even before he penetrates my dark entrance with a finger. For a while he takes me with shallow pumps, and then his finger slips in all the way. When I’m used to the sensation, a second finger joins the first, and then a third.
“Will you be a good girl if I let up, Valentina?”
No matter how well he prepares me, anal will never be my favorite, but Gabriel loves it. I want to give him this. I look back at him from over my shoulder and give a small nod.
“Good kitten.”
He lifts his palm from my back and grabs the root of his cock, positioning it at my tight entrance. His free hand moves between my legs. It burns when he opens me with the broad head of his cock, but his deft fingers are manipulating my clit in just the right way, rolling the over-stimulated nub with the perfect amount of pressure. The way into my backside is a slow process that takes a long time during which he stops frequently to let me adjust. When the burn gets too much, he pinches my clit, setting my nerve endings off with a good kind of pain. By the time his whole length is buried inside, I’m shaking, but the pleasure is always bigger than the pain.
“I want to make this good for you,” he says in a strained voice.
I cry out when he starts moving, feeling a dark and demented pleasure work its way through the pain up my spine. I gnash my teeth together as he increases his pace, trying to accommodate the carnal feelings so different from my usual orgasms. I crave with ferocity, but I don’t know what. It’s only when he plunges two fingers into my pussy and scissors them that I understand what my body wants. I need to come so badly it feels like torture. I’m on the edge, but the anal penetration isn’t enough.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, understanding my body better than I do.
I find my clit and rub while he fucks me with his fingers and cock. I’m not cognizant of time or place, only of him and our bodies as he pushes me to the darkest of pleasures, to a point where no person should go. He fucks me into floating bliss, always pushing the boundaries to physical highs I’m frightened I won’t survive but somehow always do, and he’s right there with me as he curses and cries out his climax. Coming inside me while driving me past my limits and beyond, he makes me lose myself in the best and worst way possible.
Before I can guard my tongue, the words tumble from my mouth, drowning out even the powerful orgasm burning through me.
“I love you, Gabriel.”
5
Gabriel
A man like me can only hope for the words she utters, but they catch me off-balance. I stumble back, ripping my cock too quickly from her ass and making her whimper. She freezes. Her back is no longer rising and falling with the heavy breaths of earlier. She’s as shocked as I am. The statement tumbled from her mouth without premeditation. Unlike my usual type of woman, she didn’t express the ultimate sentiment of affection to manipulate me, because there’s nothing to manipulate. Her fate is sealed. The ring on her finger is the proof. She’s mine—forever—but the spontaneity of the words doesn’t make them truer than when Sylvia or Helga spoke them. This is what I trained her to think. To believe. Sex and emotions go hand in hand for women. My weapon with Valentina has always been sex, and her words confirmed I won the war. Yet, instead of feeling victorious, I feel like a jerk. Bleak, cold self-loath fills my gut.
Covering her body with mine, I fold my arms around her and give her the only thing that can make me feel better––the truth.
“You only think you love me because I trained you so.” I kiss her neck to soften the ugly deliverance.
Finally, her chest expands as she inhales. When she pushes up, I don’t prevent her.
She turns in my arms to face me. Pride clashes with embarrassment in her pretty, big eyes. “You’re right,” she lifts her chin, “because I hate you more.”
There it is, the naked truth, stripped from pretenses and a dollied-up version of our unconventional relationship when sex is taken out of the equation.
I cup her face. “I know, beautiful.”
The sad part is, I do. I always did. The minute I saw her and decided what I was going to do with her body, I knew she would hate me. I just wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt, and that comes as a surprise. Sure, I care about her like I’ve never cared about another woman, not even my ex-wife, but the plan was always to maintain my superior position of power over her. Feelings were not supposed to weaken me. How could I foresee this petite woman would make me feel so many different things in the short span of half a year?
I’m crowding her space, not backing away so she can move, but she’s not trying to escape. She faces me bravely with her pale cheeks and blurry eyes. I recognize the emotion in that expression. Defeat. It’s the point at which she realizes how utterly I’ve ruined her. She needs me, and she hates it, but she doesn’t shy away from the reality. She embraces the pain and makes it her own with that same sense of survival that allowed her to accept my ownership, give up on her dream, and carry my unwanted baby.
In return for her life and body, her dreams, and one-sided, warped love, I wrap my arms around her and give her comfort. She doesn’t deny herself the little I offer. She buries her face in my chest and leans against me, allowing me to support her weight. I scoop her up in my arms and lower her into the water before getting undressed and into the tub myself. I pull her back to my chest so that her head rests on my shoulder. The water covers everything except the contracted tips of her breasts that float like enticing cherries on the milky water. I lather soap into the sponge and drag it over her smooth shoulders and the crests of her breasts. I wash gently between her legs where it will be tender and rub my palms over the toned muscles of her thighs. It’s on her stomach where I linger the longest, folding my hands around the miracle unfolding in her womb.
I’m amazed that she allows me to touch her at all and pathetically grateful. I couldn’t come near Sylvia from the minute she fell pregnant to the day Carly was born. Reluctant to break the moment, I don’t have a choice when the water starts to cool. I pull the plug, help her from the tub, and hand her a towel. We dress silently, both lost in our thoughts. When I look back at her, my heart fills with an overwhelming, intense fucking sadness. Against the expanse of the window, she looks lost and unbelievingly neglected, a bride in my oversized clothes. Fragile, damaged, and irreparably broken.
“Come to bed.” It’s midday, but I want to hold her.
She blinks as if returning from someplace far. I don’t like it. Even the moments she retracts within her head are too far away for my liking. With the backdrop of the mountains and wild nature, she’s terrifyingly destructible. Small and vulnerable. The swell of her waist reminds me that her delicate condition makes her ten-fold more frail. An overpowering sense of protectiveness consumes me. The fear that something should happen to her or that I could lose her pushes a burning sensation up in my throat. The thought of anyone’s hands on her other than mine will drive me to my knees.
Suddenly, I need to know. I told myself if I could have her back it would be enough, that I wouldn’t ask questions, but I’m not strong enough to stand by my intention.
“In Durban, did you touch another man?”
She gives me a startled look. “No.”
“Nobody?”
“The only man who’s ever touched me is you.”
She looks uncomfortable. “Except for that one time.”
I cross the floor and kiss her lips to shut her up. I don’t want her to think about the rape. Due to all of my energy having been focused on finding my runaway girl, I haven’t made progress with tracking her assailants. Enough of those thoughts. I took her body hard, and she needs to rest. Maybe I need to hold her more than she needs to be held, but it doesn’t matter. I take her hand and pull her down next to me on the bed. Fully clothed, I put my arms around her and cradle her against my body. She relaxes, her limbs molding around mine like puzzle pieces that fit just right.
“What would you like to do later?” I ask, stroking her hair.
“This is enough, Gabriel.”
I kiss the top of her head. It can never be enough. I can never get my fill of her, and that scares the fuck out of me.
We nap for a couple of hours, have a late lunch, and take one of the short hikes to the waterfall after I checked with the hotel guide that the walk isn’t too strenuous for my pregnant bride. The air and exercise do us both good. I needed to clear my head from Valentina’s gut-eating revelation of love and hate, and she has a glow on her too-pale cheeks when we get back at sunset. Not willing to share her with others, I selfishly order dinner to be served in front of the fireplace in our room. When the staff have cleared the dishes and stoked the fire, we play a game of Scrabble. Our behavior strikes me as odd. This isn’t something I’d ever have done with Sylvia, and certainly not on a honeymoon, but we aren’t a normal couple celebrating our newly taken vows.
Even if my need for Valentina is already fierce again, I take her to bed without fucking her. In her fragile state, I’m worried of wearing her out, and after this morning’s marathon tonight seems too soon. Despite not satisfying my sexual urge, I’m wholly and strangely content to simply sleep next to her, a definite first for me.
When the sun wakes me with a pale glow that sifts through the large windows of our room, I can’t pretend that our mountaintop castle of glass is forever, any longer. The fairy tale of last night is over. It’s time to go back to reality and all the problems our new situation will bring, including breaking the news to Magda and Carly. I start with Magda, sending her a text message to inform her we’re married. Let her make of it what she will.
Valentina is quiet on the way home. The first thing she does upon our arrival is to check on Charlie. Her worry was for nothing. He’s in his element, playing a game of cards with the off-duty guards in the staff quarters. The walk to the house seems like a good time to bring up our living arrangements.
“Charlie will live with us from now on.”
She stops dead and gapes at me.
“Aren’t you happy?”
“Of course, I am. I just assumed he’d go back to Kris.”
“You’re my wife. That makes him family. He can take one of the rooms upstairs. I’ll send someone for his things, today. You can take charge of redecorating or whatever it is you women do.”
“Thank you.” She squeezes my fingers.
I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. “I don’t want you to do anything strenuous while you’re pregnant. No physical labor.”
“I’m pregnant, not sick.”
“I won’t take risks with your health.”
At my stern tone, she remains quiet.
The clothing consultant is waiting for us at the house with a selection of pregnancy outfits for Valentina to choose from. I thought it easier for her to shop at home than do the tiring clothes hunting. It wasn’t my intention to stay while she tries on some of the dresses, but I find tremendous joy in sitting on the couch while she parades for me. Being conservative in her spending, I have to talk her into taking more than a couple of pants with adjustable waistbands and A-line dresses. My favorites are the fitted ones. It’ll show off her belly beautifully. Sitting there and watching her, my chest expands with pride. She’s going to make me a father, a precious gift I thought I’d never have again.
With the consultant gone, I hand Valentina the ideas I jotted down for her to start an animal rescue program, as well as a new phone. She’s a bright and ambitious woman. The last thing I want is for her to be bored. We rehired our old cleaning company plus a server for our evening meals, and Marie is back in the kitchen. My wife will not dirty her hands like she was forced to when my mother made her our maid.
Think of the devil, Magda walks into the lounge as Valentina tells me she’s going upstairs to change out of my clothes.
“Val.” Magda approaches stiffly. She doesn’t hug Valentina or kiss her cheek like she did with Sylvia when I brought her home after our wedding, but she makes an effort to be polite. “Welcome back.” She motions at Valentina’s stomach. “How are you?”
My petite wife’s hands fold over her belly in a protective manner. “I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. Louw.”
“Call me Magda. We’re family now.”
“All right, Magda.”
Magda brushes her hands over her dress. “I’m going to be brutally honest, because there’s no other way of saying this. I’m not happy with the turn of events, but whatever our past, whatever your debt, that’s behind us. You’re a Louw, now, and family comes first. You’ll have all the benefits that come with our name, and in return I expect you to be loyal. Understood?”
“Yes.”
Magda is worried that Valentina will rat to the wrong people in government, people who abide by the law, or worse, our enemies.
I put an arm around Valentina’s waist. “She understands.”
“Good.” Magda looks between us. “I’m also not happy about the way you snuck off to tie the knot. And like this.” She motions at Valentina’s attire and pulls up her nose. “Really, Gabriel, shame on you to make a lady marry you in such a state. It should’ve been done properly, in a church, with guests, and with the public exposure my son deserves. The best we can do now is a newspaper announcement.”
I don’t argue, because she’s right. Shame on me. Like every other woman, Valentina deserved a pretty white dress, flowers, a three-layered cake, and the whole nine yards, but I was too frantic to secure her safety. Plus, I wanted those invisible handcuffs on her the second she was back in my bed, where she belongs.
“Well, then,” Magda gives a tight nod, “shout if you need anything.”
When my mother’s stifling presence is gone, I put my hands on Valentina’s shoulders and turn her to me. Her muscles slacken as the tension leaves her body. Magda makes her nervous.
I brush a thumb over the smooth skin of her cheek. “I have business to take care of this afternoon, and I won’t be home for dinner. I’m going over to Sylvia’s to break the news to Carly.”
Apprehension fills her eyes. “How will she take it?”
“She’ll be fine.” I give her a reassuring squeeze, even if I have my doubts. “If you’re going over to Kris’, or anywhere for that matter, the guards will go with you.”
She doesn’t contest the new invasion of her privacy. Valentina already knows when a battle is not worth fighting.
I kiss her lightly. “Call me if you need me or if you’re not feeling well.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says in a chastising tone.
I chuckle and kiss her again. She will be. She’s too strong to be anything else.
Valentina
The air in the house is suffocating. No matter where I turn, Magda is there.
“What on earth are you wearing?” she exclaims when I come downstairs in a calf-length wool dress with boots. “This shows every roll and bulge on your body. You want to hide your stomach, not draw attention to it. Try a short dress that you can wear like a blouse over a pair of slacks, and go for flats. These heels,” she waves at my boots, “look like a prostitute costume for Halloween. A scarf is always good to round off your appearance. I’ll take you to Hermes in Sandton tomorrow. They have a new range in neutral colors for winter.”
In short, she wants me to dress like her. Ignoring her comments, I esc
ape to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Marie enters with a bunch of coriander as I switch on the kettle.
“How are you doing, Marie?”
Her mouth droops on one side. “Shlut.”
It takes me a while to figure out what she said. Suddenly, my thirst for a warm drink is gone.
“Where’s Oscar?”
She doesn’t answer.
I find him sleeping on the dryer. “Hey, baby. I missed you.” I scratch behind his ear and am rewarded with a purr.
Curiosity drives me to my old quarters. The room is bare. The bed has been stripped, and the curtains are gone. It feels unreal to see the space so empty. A part of me belongs here. Strangely, I’m sentimental about my first intimate moments with Gabriel that took place in this room. I recall with uncanny clarity the first night he came to me. If he were a less skilled lover, would my reaction to him have been different? Somehow, I doubt it. The truth is I’m as attracted to Gabriel as I’m frightened of him. His darkness has long since invaded my heart, making me a soul mate to the unspeakable needs that drive him.
From far-off, Magda calls for me. I escape outside to see Bruno. At least he’s happy to have me back. After playing with him for a while, I follow the path to the staff quarters. Quincy is with Charlie.
He gets to his feet when I enter. “Mrs. Louw.”
“Please, I’m still Valentina.”
He gives a small nod. “How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, of course.” My smile is forced as I move to Charlie. “Still playing cards?”
“He plays a mean game of poker.” Quincy laughs. “He cleaned out the coin jar.”
“Thank you,” I say gratefully. “I’ll take him off your hands as soon as I get back from Kris’.”
“No sweat. We’re having fun. Gabriel mentioned that you’d go. The guards are ready when you are. Shall I call Kris and let her know you’re on your way?”
“That will be kind, thank you.”
Consent (The Loan Shark Duet Book 2) Page 7
