by Jasmine Hill
He spoke in Spanish to the woman behind the counter. Initially, she wasn’t going to confirm that Makayla was staying at the hotel, but he persevered. After calling Fernando and getting him to speak to the manager of the hotel, he eventually had Makayla’s room number.
* * * *
Makayla awoke with a start. What was that? She listened for a moment, then it came again—loud banging on her door.
“Makayla? Open up. Now!”
It was Donovan and he sounded angry, but there was also something else in his voice, something that sounded like desperation. She chewed her lip for a moment, indecision waging a war within her. But when he started banging on the door once more, she scurried out of bed. He was going to wake the entire hotel if he kept that up.
She walked to the door and opened it. Donovan leaned against the doorjamb, his hair mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. He looked up at her, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.
“What the fuck, Makayla?” His voice broke. He stepped into the room and wrapped his arms around her.
She was so startled that she didn’t have time to react. She just stood and let him hold her.
“I thought I’d fucking lost you,” he mumbled into her hair, squeezing her tightly.
She wriggled out of his embrace and took a few steps backward, hardening her heart to him. “What do you want, Donovan?”
He gave her an incredulous look. “What do you think I want? I want to know why you left me.”
She walked to the bed and sat on the edge, needing a few moments to formulate what she wanted to say.
“I spoke to Dolores,” she said finally. “She told me about you two.”
Donovan’s face turned hard. “Pray tell, what did the bitch have to say?”
“She showed me a marriage certificate. You didn’t tell me that you were married! Why would you keep that from me? It could only be because you wanted to keep your relationship a secret. You knew I wouldn’t have anything to do with you if I found out.”
He sighed heavily. “I’m not married to her anymore.”
“But you were?”
“Briefly. I had the marriage annulled.”
“And what about your son, Donny? You didn’t tell me about him, either.”
“I don’t have a son. She’s lying to you.”
Makayla couldn’t believe it. She’d heard with her own ears the recording where they spoke about him. Plus he bore a resemblance to Donovan.
“Please, baby. Let me explain,” Donovan implored her.
He deserved that opportunity at least. She nodded and drew her hotel robe tighter around her.
He sat on the bed next to her and grasped one of her hands in his. “Donny is the son of my first cousin, Renaldo. My aunt and uncle—Renaldo’s parents, were killed in a car accident when he was young and my parents became his legal guardians, so they think of him as a son. About two years ago, I was in a relationship with Dolores. She showed me what she wanted me to see in regards to her personality. She wanted me and she set out to get me, ruthlessly. She told me she was pregnant with my child. I didn’t believe it because we’d never had unprotected sex, but I know that accidents happen. Her parents were friends of my parents. Our fathers are business associates, which made the whole thing all the more awkward. I married her in a brief ceremony. It was a hopeless union from the start. I didn’t love her, and I was beginning to hate the sight of her. I even lost interest in dominating her. Initially, she was my sub, but after we were married, she showed her true colors. She was manipulative, vicious and insanely jealous.”
From what Makayla had seen of the woman, those adjectives definitely suited her down to the ground. “How did you find out Donny wasn’t yours?”
“I had a hunch. I knew that she’d be capable of anything to get what she wanted, and I needed to be sure. I’d already looked into annulment proceedings. I just needed the proof that the child wasn’t mine. Of course, I was ready to help her financially. I wasn’t about to let an innocent baby come to harm. When Donny was born, I had a paternity test conducted and it proved that he wasn’t mine. I started annulment proceedings immediately. In Spain, there are a few instances that justify an annulment. One is mental incapacity. I knew that she was mentally unstable, but proving it would be difficult and time-consuming. Another was that one person in the union had a child without the knowledge of the other. While this wasn’t entirely true, I had a very good lawyer and we argued that what Dolores had done should constitute grounds for annulment. I wanted to avoid divorce. Divorce complicates matters and would undoubtedly include some form of spousal support, which she didn’t need or deserve. I wanted to wipe my hands of her entirely and I wanted nothing connecting us.”
“How did you find out that Donny was actually Renaldo’s?”
“When it emerged that he wasn’t mine, even though the resemblance was there, Renaldo admitted that he’d gotten drunk one night with Dolores and they’d slept together. It was obviously her plan from the beginning to trap me, and she knew that I’d refuse to sleep with her without protection. Even then, I didn’t fully trust her. Renaldo and I bear a strong resemblance—our mothers were twin sisters—so she did the next best thing in her mind.”
Makayla couldn’t fathom the depths the woman had gone to. It was astonishing. “She played me a recording of you and her talking. She told you she’d seen your parents and Donny had seen his grandparents. From the recording, it definitely seemed that you two were still together.”
“She would have recorded that when she saw me the other night. She had been to see my parents the last time they were in Spain. Donny calls them his grandparents, and Dolores is always trying to lead them to believe that there is something more between us, even though I haven’t set eyes on her in a year. She was obsessed with me. I just hadn’t realized that she still felt so strongly.” He gave her a searching look. “Fuck, Makayla, I thought I’d lost you.”
“You very nearly did,” she agreed. “At first, I didn’t believe her, but the photo of Donny and the recording had me convinced, particularly as you hadn’t mentioned anything to me. I thought the only reason you were hiding your relationship was because everything she told me was true.”
He stood and pulled her tightly to his body. “I didn’t mention it because it was over and done with and I prefer not to dwell on it.” He looked around the hotel room, a vague look of distaste crossing his features. “Let’s go back to our hotel. While this seems pleasant enough, it’s not what I’m used to.”
Makayla was happy with that. She wanted to be far away from everything that reminded her of Dolores and the previous few hours. She changed quickly into the outfit that she’d just purchased, grabbed her handbag and the small carry-on that she’d bought. Donovan raised his eyebrows. “You’re a light traveler.”
“Yes. The only thing that Dolores bothered to get from the hotel was my passport.”
Donovan swore softly. “I’ll get to the bottom of that. I have no fucking idea how she managed to get into our suite.”
They left the room quickly and headed down to the lobby. It was then that Makayla wondered how he had known where she’d gone. “How did you find me?” she asked curiously.
“The GPS tracker that I downloaded onto our phones when we first arrived.”
They stepped into the lift and she looked up to find Donovan giving her a hard stare. “Where is your collar?”
“It’s in my bag.”
“What did I say about not taking it off?”
“You couldn’t expect me to keep it on after what happened. I thought you’d been lying to me and that I’d been having an affair with a married man!”
They arrived in the lobby and Donovan took her hand, tugging her out of the elevator and over to reception. “She’s checking out,” he told the woman at the desk, handing over her key then continuing to the front doors.
Makayla struggled to keep up with him. “Donovan, don’t I need to pay something?”
“No,” he said tersely. “Dolores pre-paid. She didn’t want anything keeping you around longer than necessary.” He shook his head incredulously “That woman will obviously stop at nothing.” He guided Makayla to a black BMW. “Get in.”
She hopped into the passenger seat and he leaned over her to secure her seatbelt.
“I think I’m capable of belting myself in,” she said petulantly, batting his hands away.
“I know, but I want to do it.” He glared at her. “Don’t test me anymore, Makayla.”
He jumped into the driver’s seat and took off out of the parking lot, winding in and out of the early morning traffic. It didn’t take them long to get to the hotel, the traffic flow was good so early in the morning, and quite quickly Donovan was parking the car in the manager’s spot at the Totally Five Star. He came around to her side and opened the door for her, pulling her out swiftly.
“What’s the hurry?” she gasped as she was dragged up and out of her seat.
“I want you back in our suite.” He looked her up and down a little disdainfully. “And out of those God-awful tourist clothes—I Love Madrid?”
“It was the only decent shirt they had,” she retorted. “I could hardly get on a plane in the clothes I was wearing.”
He looked at her aghast. “I should fucking hope not. You can only wear outfits like that when I’m with you. That was the other reason I was frantic. I knew how you were dressed and I had no fucking idea where you were or who you were with. For fuck’s sake, anything could have happened to you.”
Donovan threw the car keys to a bellhop as they passed. They reached the elevator bank and Donovan punched in their code.
“It wasn’t entirely my fault,” she said irritably as they stepped into the lift. “Dolores tricked me. She sent someone to tell me that you were waiting for me out front of the club.”
“I know. I tracked down the asshole who did her dirty work.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing much. It seems that he didn’t know what he was doing. Essentially, he was on an errand that she’d paid him for. “
“Well, at least you didn’t punch his lights out.”
Donovan laughed. “Punch his lights out? Honestly, angel, where do you get this stuff?”
“Well, you do seem to be a little hotheaded at times.”
He turned suddenly and pushed her against the wall, then he grasped her arms, pushing them above her head, his face pressed to hers. “I am hotheaded, baby, when it comes to you. Don’t fucking forget it.”
Makayla’s heart missed a beat. He was just so unbelievably hot. He took her breath away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, apologizing for running from him a third time.
The elevator pinged to a stop, and Donovan grasped her hand, tugging her out. “You will be sorry,” he murmured, swiping the card through the door lock of their suite. “Go inside and get naked.”
She scurried through the door and into the bedroom. She undressed hurriedly, the import of her situation suddenly hitting her. Donovan hadn’t lied to her, and he wasn’t a married man. Pure elation swept through her. The numbness of the previous couple of hours was gone, and she suddenly felt alive and vibrant. The feeling of bitter betrayal that she’d buried, for fear of breaking down in a trembling heap, was no longer there. And she could finally embrace the fact that she loved him. She was hopelessly enamored with him, and that comprehension both elated and terrified her.
She knelt by the door and waited for him, her heart beating erratically in anticipation. He entered soon after her and she knew that he couldn’t draw out the suspense, as he usually liked to do. He was just as anxious as she.
He moved behind her, then he knelt, lifting her hair and placing her collar around her neck. The cool metal felt comforting against her skin, and she realized that she’d missed it in the short time that it hadn’t been there.
Donovan’s mouth was at her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “I know that this will be the last time that you take this off, baby, because I’m locking it into place now. Do you object?”
“No, Sir.” Her breath hitched in eagerness and moisture gathered between her thighs. She heard a click, then Donovan showed her a small key. “I’m the only one who can remove this. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He gathered her hair in his hands and swept it to one side. She felt his mouth on her neck. He nibbled her skin and pressed open-mouthed kisses to her throat. “I own you,” he mumbled against her flesh. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she gasped. Her insides burned and she was hot and trembling, his mere touch scorching her.
“And I am yours,” he continued. “You own me, Makayla. I can’t be without you. I love you.”
Makayla shuddered with jubilation, her heart soaring. He loved her! She was all sensation—every touch of his searing her to the bone. And his words, his words were affecting her more than anything else ever had.
“Yes. Please, Sir,” she begged.
He hovered behind her, not touching, just close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. “Please,” she implored again. She needed him to take her, was desperate for it.
He cupped her nape and urged her to lean down, his palm firm on her neck. She obeyed, bending forward until her elbows were on the floor and her ass in the air.
“That’s it, baby,” Donovan rasped, his voice tight with need. “I can see how wet you are. Fuck, that smooth, pink pussy is glistening for me.”
He palmed her backside, sweeping his large hands over her ass cheeks then squeezing.
Her breath hitched as he massaged the fleshy mounds, spreading them apart so she felt the cool air waft across her pussy.
She heard him unzip his pants, then he thrust inside her in one hard plunge, jerking her forward so she had to claw the carpet to keep from toppling over. He drew back and lunged again, driving into her deeply and gripping her ass cheeks, spreading them wide.
“Fuck,” he panted. “You’re so tight.”
He stretched her with his thick cock. She felt so full of him that she didn’t know where he stopped and she began.
“You’re mine, Makayla,” he rasped and jerked forward again, burying himself deeply. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she cried, delirious with the sensations swamping her. “I’ll always be yours!”
“That’s right,” he agreed on another fierce drive. He pulled out then lunged again. “Because you’re not only my submissive, you’ll soon be my wife!”
What? Had she just heard him correctly?
He bent over her, pressing his chest against her back and speaking low in her ear as he seated himself balls deep. “It’s not a romantic proposal, baby, but it’s the only way I want to make it—while I’m inside your tight pussy, fucking your brains out.”
He reached around to her front and slid his fingers against her clit, rubbing her moisture around the nub of nerves and massaging.
She jerked beneath him as sharp tingles of pleasure radiated throughout her core.
“What do you say, Makayla?” he demanded.
He gyrated his pelvis, circling his cock inside her channel and flicking her clit, sending her spiraling into an intense orgasm, her inner muscles clenching and milking his shaft.
“Argh!” she cried out. “Yes, yes. I’ll marry you!”
Donovan growled triumphantly and picked up his rhythm, slamming into her twice more before roaring her name and coming inside her in hot, thick bursts.
She lay limply under him, dazed and elated. He had literally just fucked a yes out of her. But she didn’t care, she couldn’t think of a better proposal. She loved him, and he’d just proved that he loved her. She would be his—forever.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Totally Five Star: A Vixen in Venice
Kate Deveaux
Excerpt
Chapter One
The cobblestones proved an unsuitable terra
in for both her suitcases and the four-inch heels Monique had unwisely chosen to wear for her arrival at her brand new job. She dragged her luggage behind her, jet lag combined with frustration mounting for Monique Le Bres as she traversed the maze of canals, making her way impatiently through the narrow passageways of Venice. The vaporetto driver had said that her hotel was just a short walk away when she’d departed at her stop on the Grand Canal. But now, deep in the thicket of Venice’s many twists and turns, Monique would be damned if she could tell where she was.
After glancing down at the small map she clutched in one hand, Monique looked back up at the tiny storefronts crammed along the waterway, trying her best not to be overrun by the barrage of tourists filling the tight corridors that ran between buildings and the canal’s murky edge. Searching for landmarks and any discernable signage, she bumped her way between tourists who were busy ogling the unusual architecture that, at that moment, proved more of an impediment than an attractant.
Tugging at her suitcases, Monique forged on.
The last thing she wanted to do was be late for her new job.
Lurching sideways to avoid a family clutching ice cream cones and pointing enthusiastically at the sights, Monique teetered on her heels to escape bearing the brunt of their gelatos as they passed. Oblivious to the obstacle they presented to Monique, they carried on, leaving her in their wake.
The wheels on her cumbersome luggage stuck on a rogue stone at the same time her heel gave way. Tumbling downward to the uneven cobbles, Monique gasped.
Just as her bottom grazed the ground, someone reached out, swooping her back onto her feet in one swift motion.
“Mademoiselle, soyez prudent.” A deep voice urged her to be careful in French.
Monique squinted into the late-day sun at nothing short of a vision. A majestic man, early forties, with chin-length sandy blond hair, a goatee and deep-set blue eyes that were rimmed by thin metal glasses stood before her, her hand clasped in his. The man’s tailored, camel hair overcoat told her he was distinguished, as did the flash of his fancy watch, probably Swiss and very expensive from the sparkle of the crystal that caught her eye as she steadied herself.
