Release

by A. M. Sexton

“You’re forgiven,” I said.

  His entire face changed. A broad smile made him look years younger. He was still on his knees, but he rose to kiss me. His lips were gentle on mine.

  “Thank you, my love,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

  It took him a moment to collect himself, but eventually, he let me go. He moved back to his seat. If he were blushing, I couldn’t see it in the faltering light.

  He indicated my still-full glass. “Drink,” he said.

  This time, I did. I took a bold mouthful, and when he smiled encouragingly at me, I drained the rest of the glass. It was bright and tart on my tongue. He poured more for me. Already, I could feel a strange languorousness in my limbs.

  This time, I took only a sip. It tasted even better than before. It tasted like merriment—an impossibility that suddenly seemed entirely plausible—and I laughed out loud without knowing why.

  He smiled at me again and leaned forward to put his hand on my thigh. His touch was like fire to kindling, and I found myself sliding lower in my chair so that his hand would drift farther up my leg.

  “I think you drugged me,” I said.

  He smiled, leaning forward to kiss me. “I did indeed,” he said. “But it’s a drug I think you’ll like.”

  “Are you going to kill me? Throw me to the sea?” For some reason, the idea didn’t even bother me.

  He laughed. “No, my pet. Nothing so sinister, I promise.” He brushed his lips over mine, teasing them with his tongue, as if sampling the erotic poison he’d given me. “The sun is nearly set. I want you to close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a surprise.”

  I did as I was told and shut my eyes. In truth, I couldn’t help it. His hand was still on my thigh, not moving, but somehow making me quake with desire. It wasn’t just his touch. It was everything—the brush of silk against my leg, the whisper of it on my erect cock, the sea breeze in my hair, the salty mist that graced my cheeks. Even the air was a sensuous caress, a delicious tease that made me feel dangerously alive. I was burning. Trembling. Flying. Expanding, yet shrinking, too. A tiny, inconsequential shell overwhelmed by the waves of sensations rolling over my brittle flesh.

  I leaned back in my seat. I felt Donato spread the collar of my robe, revealing my chest. His mouth seemed to scorch my skin, and I arched into him, pulling him to my nipple. Whatever drug he’d given me made me unable to think, weak with desire. I found myself gasping and clutching at him as he suckled there. Nothing had ever felt so good. I guided him to the other side, and cried out with relief when he rolled that tender bud of flesh between his lips.

  “You’re amazing,” he said as he began to move lower. “Absolutely perfect.”

  I couldn’t respond at all. I could only cling to him tighter. I was whimpering shamelessly. He untied my robe and kissed my stomach, pushing the liquid feel of the silk out of his way as he moved to my groin. I gripped his head, pushing toward him, not caring how pathetic or wanton I was, and he rewarded me. He put his hands under my buttocks and lifted me, sucking me deep into his mouth. I cried out, fighting desperately not to come.

  Not yet. Not quite yet.

  I arched into him, my fingers tangled in his hair. “Sir,” I gasped. “Donato. Miguel. Oh god, Miguel, please—”

  For a while, a second or a year or an eternity, there was nothing else. Only the gratification of sliding my sex in and out of his hot, wet mouth, and his hands gripping my ass. The slap of water against the side of the yacht mixed with my own moans. Finally, when I knew I was near my climax, he let my cock slip from his mouth. I groaned in frustration, but it was only for a moment.

  “Open your eyes,” he said.

  I did, just as he wrapped his mouth around me again. It was full dark now, and above me was the majesty of the cosmos, the sky huge and black, ablaze with stars. So many of them. So bright and clear and painfully beautiful. Out here, lost in the sea, there were no lamps—either gas or electric—to get in the way. The stars were omniscient, omnipotent, infinite. They cast their silver glow across the shimmering surface of the water, over my tingling flesh, onto Donato’s head where it was bent over my groin. Even the starlight seemed to caress me, to worship me, to desire me, like another layer of silk on my skin, a veil of something timeless embracing us both as he embraced me.

  I put my head back and let go, staring into the abyss as I came. It was glorious. It left me weak and trembling.

  “Careful, my love,” Donato whispered when I tried to stand and found my legs unable to hold me. “Wait here.”

  I did. I could do nothing else. I was limp, and yet, still, his touch entranced me. I was sorry when he left. I couldn’t even manage to follow where he went. I drifted, barely aware of his footsteps returning, or of the soft rustling that came with him.

  Some indeterminable time later, I woke to find him in front of me. He was naked, straddling me where I sat in the chair, his erection bobbing before my face. He was beautiful, still fit despite his age, the starlight tracing the lines of his body. My cock couldn’t rise again so soon after climaxing, but my arousal was no less for it. Even now, I wanted more of him. Every inch of my flesh felt charged and hot, longing for ignition.

  “I like this drug,” I said.

  Donato smiled. “I like you on this drug.”

  He gripped his cock in one hand. He reached out with his other hand to touch my hair. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Barely more than a request, but it was a request I happily granted. I held onto his hips and took him in my mouth with unabashed enthusiasm, whimpering as I did, swallowing him whole, happy at the feel of his hands in my hair, the deep moans he made, the clean, rich musk of his sex. The sea moved. The boat rocked. The rest of the world was gone. It was only us, and I was in ecstasy. I let him have his way with my mouth until I was gasping for air, breathing liquid, swallowing salt water, wondering without panic if I was drowning in the sea after all.

  I didn’t care if I was.

  “Let me help you up,” he whispered. He practically carried me, because my legs still wouldn’t work. We walked a step, or maybe a mile, and then I was laid down, onto the floor, onto a layer of softness on the rocking deck of the Miredhel. He wrapped his arms around me. “Sleep, love,” he said. “Just for now.”

  ***

  I woke some time later. It was still dark, but somehow less so than before. Donato slept next to me. We were lying on a thick down comforter on the deck of the ship. Above me, the stars were brighter than ever, but now the moon drifted among them, not stealing their glory, but reveling in it.

  I lay for a while, watching the sky, trying to decide how I felt. I was in the arms of a man I sometimes hated, and yet, at that moment, I could almost have loved him.

  “Awake?” he asked drowsily, kissing my neck.

  “Yes. Just watching the sky.”

  “It’s humbling, isn’t it?”

  It wasn’t the word I would have picked. I didn’t feel inconsequential against the stars. I felt alive. I felt I was one of them, as if they’d adopted me as one of their own.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “I feel amazing.”

  “Good.”

  “Except I’m starving.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not surprised. We never did get around to dinner, did we?”

  He stood and retrieved my robe from the chair where I’d left it and helped me into it. “Have a seat,” he said.

  He disappeared into the cabin. A few minutes later, he emerged, but not alone. Behind him, the butler I recognized from his house followed with a tray of food. He placed it on the table and left again without a word.

  I glanced at the bucket that still stood by the table. The ice had melted, and I could see that the decanter was still half full. Donato smiled when he saw the direction of my gaze.

  “Would you like more?”

  “Can I?”

  He took the decanter and topped off my glass. “It’s obscenely expensive and highly addictive, so I won
’t let you make a habit of it. But occasionally, it’s nice to indulge.”

  The food was simple yet elegant—rich cheeses, bits of melon, a stunning assortment of berries, and slices of savory sausage. I sipped the wine slowly as I ate. Even so, it wasn’t long before the now-familiar feeling of languorously wicked desire was flowing through me.

  Donato brushed his thumb over my lip, and I seemed to melt. I took his hand and caressed his fingertip with my tongue. He tasted like power and passion, and I trembled, suddenly longing to taste more of him.

  He took a berry from the tray and laid it against my lips. I opened my mouth and let him place it on my tongue. I wanted to taste his skin again, but he pulled his fingers free, leaving the berry. It was small and shockingly cold after the warmth of his hand. I crushed it against the roof of my mouth. I was instantly overwhelmed by it, my senses alight with its tartness. I couldn’t just taste it. I could smell the richness of the field it had been harvested from. I could hear the buzz of the bees that pollinated it. I could see the bright red hue of its flesh behind my eyes.

  Donato kissed me, sharing the taste of the berry with me, and, in his kiss, I tasted the melon he’d eaten moments before, the odd tang of its juice, the thickness of its rind. I could feel its rough skin under my fingertips. My vision went from deep red to bright orange, oscillating between the two before blending into something new. Something delicious and irresistible.

  “More,” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted more of. The berries, or him. His hand brushed over my knee. He parted my robe and teased the inside of my thigh.

  I lost control. Before I had time to think, I was on him, shoving him onto his back, straddling him, pushing onto his cock, thrilled at such a primal invasion of my body. I rode him as I had that night in the carriage. He pinched my nipples. He stroked my cock. The universe whirled around us until I was dizzy and drunk and frenzied, panting wildly as I took my pleasure. I screamed as I came for the second time that night.

  Still, I felt as if I wanted more. Donato rolled us over, me on my back with my legs on his shoulders and him kneeling between my thighs. Normally, it would have been uncomfortable to have him fuck me after I’d climaxed, but the drug made me loose and pliant. I continued to drift, blissfully enraptured by the feel of him moving in me. The pleasure was gentle now rather than frantic, but still, it was erotic and enthralling and deliciously sensual. I lay back and stared at the stars as he made love to me. He caressed me and kissed me and marveled in reverent whispers at my beauty.

  I felt like a god.

  “Come into the ocean with me,” he said when he was done.

  I was too limp to be alarmed. “I can’t swim.”

  “You don’t need to. Come on.”

  He helped me up, kissing me as he pushed the robe from my shoulders. It fell to my feet, tickling my ankles like the lost petals of a flower around the stem. Donato led me to the back of the deck, through a small gate, to a ladder that led into the inky blackness of the sea. He climbed down it, then held onto the bar, moving to the side to give me room.

  I felt no fear, although I knew I should. He smiled up at me in the starlight.

  “I won’t let you drown.”

  I stepped slowly down the ladder. The silk of my robe had felt like liquid, and now the liquid of the sea felt like silk. It was cold, but only for a moment, and then its caress became enchanting.

  Toes, then ankles, then up to my hips. I gasped as it splashed over my stomach, suddenly chilled, but then Donato was there, warm and strong. He took me in his arms.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

  I followed his orders. He put his hands under me and lifted me, guiding me up as he sank down. He was still standing on the ladder, I realized, hanging onto it with one hand, and he pulled me up until my legs were wrapped around him.

  “Lie back,” he said.

  “In the water? I can’t. I’ll sink.”

  “You won’t, I promise. Your body knows how to float, and I won’t let you go.”

  I tried to lean back, to do as he requested, but fear made me stiff and awkward.

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Hush, my love,” he said softly. “Listen to my voice. You’re safe with me. Now, close your eyes. Spread your arms, like wings. Forget your fear and let your body go soft. Let it find its natural buoyancy. Let the water lift you up.”

  Bit by bit, I followed his directions. I concentrated on his voice, on the feel of his hand on my hip, on his body between my legs and the seemingly solid presence of the water beneath me, until, miraculously, I was floating on my back, held aloft by the strength of the sea. I opened my eyes and gasped. Infinity yawned both above and below, and in between, there was only me. If Donato released me, I would cease to exist. I’d be swallowed by the sky. But he held me fast, and I breathed deep. I drank the night. I tasted the stars. I made love to the sea. The enormity of it brought tears to my eyes. I felt wondrously alive—wild and pure and achingly free.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Eventually, what felt like hours later, he helped me back up the ladder. I stood shivering while he wrapped the robe around me. He handed me my half-empty glass. “May as well finish it,” he said.

  I felt drained, but I took the glass and drank it in one swallow. I was still wet, and even with the robe, the night air suddenly seemed frigid. I began to shiver.

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into his warmth. He took me into the cabin, led me down the hall to the bedroom. He used a towel to wring the water from my hair, then tucked me into his bed. He cuddled against me from behind and I gladly snuggled into the heat of his body. I could feel his cock against my ass. He was hard again, and I wasn’t surprised when he used his fingers to part my cheeks, to find what he sought, to oil my entrance, and then he was pushing into me. The drug burned away any trace of drowsiness. It smoldered in my veins, seared my synapses, made me flush with desire. I wanted to sob from the pleasure. He wrapped his hand around my cock as he moved gently against me, fucking me with a slow deliberateness that made me whimper and tremble until I was begging, saying I knew not what, lost in the rock of the boat, the feel of his touch, the smell of our shared sex mixed with the brine of the sea, until I came again, blissfully impaled upon his cock, thrusting into his wet, sticky fingers, crying with relief.

  With release.

  I was spent; so sated and satisfied that I could happily have ceased living at that moment.

  He pulled out of me and held me tight against him. “What about you?” I asked. My words were slurred, mushy in my mouth, but I knew he hadn’t come.

  He chuckled against my neck. “I’m not as young as you. Three times in one night is a bit beyond my abilities.” He kissed my shoulder. “No more sex. And no more wine. Just sleep.”

  And I did.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “There’s nothing else to tell!” I said to Anzhéla the next afternoon for at least the third time. “We went out on his yacht. We fucked. That’s it!”

  Anzhéla stared at me over the table in Talia’s office, her expression skeptical. But there was nothing else to say. She’d apparently heard that Donato had kept me out all night—something he’d never done before—and she’d rushed over, sure I’d have something to tell her. But I didn’t. Not really. Sure, I could tell her about being drugged silly, but was there any reason to share the truth of how it felt to be lustful and seductive and unrestrained?

  No. Definitely not.

  I sighed and leaned back in my chair, trying not to let the memory of my night with Donato arouse me in front of her. I’d woken that morning with a curiously heavy head. My mouth tasted like ash. I was alone. When I’d finally made my way on deck, I found the yacht docked. The butler was waiting for me. He ushered me wordlessly off the boat and into a waiting carriage. Back at Talia’s, I’d burrowed under my covers and slept for half the day, until the relentless pounding on my door had caused me to surface from my dreams, sputtering
and confused.

  And now here I was, facing Anzhéla’s suspicion.

  “An entire night with him, and he said nothing?”

  “He didn’t take me out for an evening of conversation!” I snapped. “I’m a whore. He fucks me. Remember?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “A few days ago, you were itching to take him down. Now, I think you’re developing feelings for him.”

  I leaned over and put my head in my hands. I couldn’t deny it. I felt ill when I remembered the night with the slave, the way Donato had sweated as he’d pushed his fist into the boy, and the slave’s wails of mixed pain and pleasure.

  But the man who’d kicked me in the stomach wasn’t the man I’d spent the night with. That was some other person. Some thing. It was the beast that ruled him when he lost control. But the man I’d been with on the yacht, Miguel, was somebody else entirely. Generous and passionate. I remembered how it felt to be wrapped in the warmth of his body as he fucked me in the bed at the end of the night. I thought of the things he’d whispered to me as he made love to me on the deck.

  My hands began to shake and I had to bite back tears.

  “He used to have a wife.” That piece of information came back to me suddenly, but having said it, I felt horrible. Yes, a few days ago I’d hated him, but now the last thing I wanted was to betray him.

  “We know that. She lives in Layola now.”

  I sighed. My guilt was eased a bit by the fact that I hadn’t revealed anything new.

  “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing! How many ways do I have to say it? We fucked, we ate, we slept.”

  “Without talking?”

  “Yes!”

  “Misha—”

  But Talia chose that moment to come to my rescue. “Anzhéla, I think he’s telling the truth. The few times Donato’s made use of my in-house girls, they’ve said the same thing. He’s extremely private. Hiring whores seems to be his one indulgence, but friendship doesn’t appear to be part of the package.”

  Anzhéla held her hands up in surrender. “You’re right.” She sighed. “I have to be patient. We knew this might be a long haul, right kid?”