Nick swiftly divested her of the bikini top, squeezing both of her bare breasts before running his tongue over the nipples.
“Hmm, another day or so of sunbathing au natural and your tits will be the same skin tone as the rest of your body,” he murmured wickedly. “Your beautiful ass, too. And as soon as you take care of me, Angel, I’ll be very, very happy to rub plenty of sunscreen into every inch of your skin.”
He pushed her gently but firmly to her knees as he stood and shoved his dark blue swim trunks down his legs, baring his intimidatingly huge erection.
“You know what I want, Angel,” he crooned. “And exactly how I want it.”
She was thrilled to hear the sharp intake of his breath as she slowly ran her tongue up and down the full, throbbing length of his cock. Nick always kept such a tight rein over himself, rarely showing any reaction during their sexual encounters, no matter how hard she tried to provoke him. But that brief, betraying indication that she was, in fact, giving him pleasure was all it took to spur her on. She was determined to get a real reaction out of him this time, to make him lose control, and began to use every trick he’d ever taught her. She speared the tip of her tongue deep inside the slit of his cock head while stroking him with a steady, unceasing rhythm. She relaxed the muscles at the very back of her throat and then worked her mouth a little further down his cock with each devouring pull. And then, when she’d taken all of him, every inch of that spectacular cock as deep into her throat as possible, she reached back to lightly squeeze his balls. Even with the blood pounding fiercely in her ears, Angela could hear him groan, felt his hands fisting in her hair and pulling it taut. Knowing he was still holding back, was still in control, she became more determined than ever to make him lose it for once, to make him be the one shaking uncontrollably. Impulsively, before she lost her nerve, she carefully inserted her index finger inside his anus and pressed down hard, hoping wildly that what’d she read once in Cosmo about this particular little trick was accurate.
“Fuck, Jesus, fuck!” yelled Nick as his hips began to buck frantically, the head of his cock butting up against the back of her throat and threatening to gag her with each violent thrust.
He came hard, much harder and longer than she could ever recall, even as she continued to stimulate his prostate gland. The hot, sticky bursts of cum flooded her mouth, shooting down her throat faster than she could swallow, and she could feel rivulets of it trickling down her chin. She winced in pain as his grip on her hair grew even tighter, holding her head still as he continued to empty himself. Her jaw was sore from swallowing, the back of her throat tender from taking him so deep, and thick white beads of his semen clung to her cheek and neck and even her breasts. But it was all worth it to hear his grunts of pleasure, to feel him continue to shudder in reaction, to know that he’d finally lost control and just allowed himself to feel. She felt an almost giddy sense of triumph, especially when she finally dared to glance up at him from beneath her lashes and saw the way he was gasping for breath, his skin darkly flushed and his eyes tightly shut.
Nick released the death grip he’d had on her hair, sliding his cock out of her mouth, and then turned and stalked over to the pool. Without a word he dove into its crystalline depths and began to swim laps with focused precision. She knew he was deeply shaken by what had just happened, and cursed herself for having made him lose control, knowing how pissed off he must be right now. She carefully got to her feet and grabbed a towel from the neatly folded stack next to the pool. She wiped off her mouth and upper body before glancing over at Nick as he continued to swim with steady, purposeful strokes. Conscious of her nudity and the hot Mexican sun beating down on her, she wrapped the oversized towel around her body and began to pick up the discarded pieces of her bikini.
“Get your ass in this pool. Now.”
Gulping, she looked over at Nick who was treading water at one end of the pool. His dark eyes were stormy and his mouth a taut line of disapproval. She didn’t dare protest, dropping the towel where she stood before easing herself into the water.
He was on her in an instant, wrapping the long length of her hair around one big hand and jerking her head back to meet his burning gaze. She swallowed with some difficulty and was grateful when he wrapped his other arm around her waist to support her.
“I don’t especially care for surprises,” he growled in a dangerous voice. “So the next time you feel like experimenting with something new – don’t. And that little trick you just pulled – unless I specifically tell you, don’t try it again. Clear?”
Incapable of speech, and terrified that she’d messed up big time, she could only nod.
“Good.”
His mouth crashed down on hers, kissing her brutally. She clutched the brawny muscles of his biceps desperately as he made her grow dizzy with his punishing kisses. She whimpered when he bit down deliberately on her bottom lip, not hard enough to break the skin but she knew it would swell up within a few short minutes.
Without warning he hoisted her up to sit on the edge of the pool, her long legs still immersed in the water. He was rock hard again, his incredible powers of recovery never ceasing to astound her. But as he spread her thighs apart, she glanced around apprehensively.
“Nick – should we – I mean, are you sure -”
He snickered and shook his head in disbelief. “Angel, you have got to be kidding. Just a few minutes ago I was shoving my cock as far down your throat as you could take it, and a few minutes before that I had my tongue in your cunt and my finger up your ass. And now you’re worried about someone overhearing us?”
His eyes darkened as he lowered his head, his mouth sucking at her nipples until she was groaning. He gripped his cock and positioned it at the slick entrance to her body.
“Relax,” he murmured. “No one is going to hear us. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Even if they did hear us, you’ll never see any of these people again.”
“Ah, God.” She cried out in a low, startled voice as he rammed himself inside of her with one savage thrust. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck, and held on for dear life as he fucked her hard and deep.
She had just enough presence of mind to gasp, “C-condom.”
“Tough. You’re protected, I’m clean, and it feels too fucking good to pull out now. In fact,” he bit her shoulder, lifting her legs even higher up until they circled his waist, “doing you bareback is something I should have done a long time ago. And definitely something I’m going to do a lot more of in the future.”
He screwed her roughly, almost brutally, and without any of his usual finesse. He was wild and frantic and Angela knew she’d crossed a line, pissed him off, by making him lose control earlier. And this, now, was her punishment, his way of letting her know in no uncertain terms that he was still in charge, would always be in charge. But it was the sweetest kind of punishment, she though shakily, the sort he could dole out for hours or days at a time, the sort she’d welcome with open arms.
It was almost unheard of for him to climax before he’d gotten her off at least once, but she knew this, too, was part of her punishment – the denial of her pleasure – and he came quickly and silently deep inside of her. But, as though he instantly regretted his selfishness – not to mention his brutality – he lifted her back into the water and held her close as they floated in place. She couldn’t hold back the hot rush of tears that spilled from her eyes, and buried her face against the side of his neck as her shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
“Shh. It’s okay, Angel,” he soothed her. “I can be a mean bastard sometimes, I admit it.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. And I’m – I’m sorry, too. For what I did. I know you need to be in control and -”
“Hush. Let’s not talk about that now. And I’d have to be a real asshole – or a moron – to be pissed about having the best orgasm of my life, wouldn’t I? Come on, let’s get drie
d off and then we’re going to have some real fun with that bottle of sunscreen.”
She shivered in anticipation as he murmured in her ear, “Good thing I bought an extra-large bottle, because when I’m through with you it will be your turn to return the favor.”
Chapter Ten
June
As she looked around at the three hundred or so guests assembled inside the church, Angela thought yet again that if it wasn’t Gabriella who was getting married today she would have definitely found a way to blow this off. She’d never been a big fan of weddings, having been dragged to an indeterminable number of them since childhood. And since she had at least thirty cousins on her mother’s side of the family alone – all of whom were now married – that added up to a lot of these affairs over the years.
Gabriella, in fact, was her second cousin. Gabriella’s grandmother was Angela’s Aunt Paula, who was a full fifteen years older than Rita. Paula’s oldest child – Marta – was Angela’s first cousin, and the mother of Gabriella. And since the bride was herself a year older than Angela, the two of them had spent a lot of time together as children, playing at all the various family events and parties. It was only because of their closeness growing up that Angela had given up a weekend with Nick to attend the wedding today.
She’d fretted for weeks over telling him about the wedding, knowing there was zero chance he’d actually offer to go with her, and worrying that he’d be annoyed about her decision. But she’d given up so much for him already – blowing off both of her sisters’ birthdays plus a handful of other family events – that she’d hoped he would be understanding.
She had told him about the wedding over dinner three weeks ago, her words halting and unsure.
“And you know how much I dislike all these family functions but this one – well, this one is special. I mean, a birthday is one thing – you have those every year, after all. A wedding – you’d like to think it’s once in someone’s lifetime.”
Nick had rolled his eyes. “Try telling my mother that. I’ve lost track of how many husbands and boyfriends she’s had. My father as well, considering he’s on wife number three right now.”
“I’m sorry.” She’d reached over to squeeze his hand, sensing from his caustic tone that his parents’ multiple relationships were a source of considerable emotional distress for him.
“Forget it.” He’d moved his hand away to pick up his wine glass. “So which cousin is the one being stupid enough to get hitched?”
Angela had sighed. “Gabriella. Second cousin, really, maybe even a third. I’m not exactly sure how that works. Her mother is my first cousin but because of all the various age differences that I won’t confuse you with Gabby is a year older than I am. We were pretty close growing up, hung out together as kids at all the family doings.”
Nick had shook his head in disgust. “And she wants to tie herself down like that at age twenty-three? Hasn’t anyone told her this isn’t the nineteenth century we’re living in?”
“Actually, I think most of my female cousins were right around the same age when they got married, some even younger. The Italians are like that, at least in my family – get married young, have babies young, and then watch the next generation repeat it all over again.”
“Is that what you want, Angel?”
She’d glanced up at him, startled by the question and the serious manner in which he’d asked it. She had recovered quickly, shaking her head emphatically. “No. God, no. At least not for a long time. We’ve had this discussion already, Nick. You know my feelings on the subject.”
He’d shrugged and refilled his wine glass. “Feelings can change, Angel. People can change. Here’s the girl you grew up with, played with as a child, and she’s tying the knot. It’s only natural that you might be feeling like you suddenly want the same things as – what was her name?”
“Gabriella. Gabby. And, no,” she’d insisted. “I don’t want that for myself. You’re absolutely right that twenty-two, twenty-three is way too young to get married. And the very last thing I ever want to do is be like the rest of my family.”
He had seemed mollified after that, changing the subject without really saying for sure if he minded her being away for the weekend of the wedding. It was only as they were getting ready to leave the restaurant that he brought the subject up again.
“You go to your little cousin’s wedding, Angel. I’m guessing they’d all be pretty pissed off if you missed it.”
She’d nodded, touching him lightly on the arm. “Okay. You – you don’t mind?”
He’d chuckled then. “I didn’t say that. Of course I’ll miss not having you at my beck and call for two whole nights. You’ll just have to think of some very creative ways to make it up to me.”
She had thought about asking how he’d spend the weekend without her, then abruptly decided not to push her luck. And then he’d startled her anew by declaring he was taking her shopping the next day for a new outfit to wear to the wedding.
“And I’ll expect pictures to prove that you actually wore it,” he’d warned her. “No chickening out at the last minute. I’m going to pick out an outfit for you that makes a statement. The sort of statement that will have everyone staring at you instead of the bride.”
And the stares had definitely been obvious, beginning with the startled looks she’d received just a short while ago from her parents as she’d descended the staircase at their house.
“My God, where did you get that dress?” her mother had gasped. “It’s – isn’t it a little short for an afternoon wedding?”
Angela had shrugged, trying valiantly to appear nonchalant. “It’s not that short, Mom. Don’t forget that I’m so tall everything is automatically a few inches shorter on me.”
Rita had looked down at her feet disapprovingly. “And why such high heels? You already look like a giant compared to all the other girls. With those shoes you’ll be even taller than the men. You won’t get asked to dance even once.”
Angela had rolled her eyes. “So what? I’m not fifteen and going to a high school dance, after all.”
Rita had thrown up her hands in frustration. “As usual you have to be difficult, have to be different from the rest of us. No one else is going to be wearing that color or such a short skirt. I can just imagine what your aunts are going to say about you.”
It had been on the tip of Angela’s tongue to reply that she didn’t give a flying fuck what her annoying, gossipy aunts had to say. Over the years they’d undoubtedly said plenty, and she could just imagine some of the mean, catty things they’d whispered about her.
But this weekend was already proving to be difficult enough, and since the last thing she wanted to do was start a big fight with her mother, she kept her mouth shut. Fortunately, her sweet, soft spoken father came to the rescue as he’d done so often over the years.
He’d given her a gentle kiss on the cheek, ignoring the look of displeasure Rita sent his way at the gesture. “You look beautiful, Angie,” he’d assured her. “Like a movie star. Nobody’s going to be looking at the bride because they’re all going to be staring at my little girl instead.”
Rita had snorted. “Little? In those slutty shoes she’s taller than you, Gino. And stop filling her head with nonsense. Of course everyone is going to be looking at Gabriella. She’s going to make a gorgeous bride. Such a sweet girl, and what a nice boy she’s marrying.”
Angela had been sorely tempted to correct her mother about the so-called “slutty shoes” – to tell her that the strappy cream sandals were in fact Christian Louboutins that had cost a thousand dollars, and had been purchased at Neiman Marcus, the classiest store in San Francisco. But she’d continued to keep her mouth shut, not wanting to alert her parents to the fact that her entire outfit had cost Nick more money than either of them could ever imagine spending on clothes.
The short aqua lace sheath dress was a Valentino, the cream quilted shoulder bag Chanel. At her throat she wore a new choker-style necklace �
� this one of cultured pearls with a diamond clasp in the center – and matching drop earrings. The dress admittedly bared an awful lot of her long, deeply tanned legs, but it was one of the loveliest, most exquisite things she’d ever seen.
The wedding was as carefully orchestrated and elaborately planned out as all of the others she’d been to over the years. Her cousins tended to be very competitive, much as her mother and aunts had always been, and they were constantly trying to one up each other, with each birthday party, bridal shower, baby shower, more elaborate and over the top than the one before. As Angela took in all of the tableau – the whimsically printed wedding programs; the soprano crooning “Ave Maria” from the choir loft as guests continued to arrive; the lavishly beribboned floral bouquet that adorned the end of each wooden pew; the seven bridesmaids with their frothy, petal pink gowns and wreaths of pink roses in their identically coiffed hair.
Rita had fretted for weeks when Angela hadn’t been asked to be a bridesmaid. “I don’t understand. I mean, the two of you were so close growing up. Gabriella ought to be ashamed of herself for not asking you. But part of this is your fault, too, Angela. You should have made more of an effort to keep in touch with her instead of spending all your time with your college friends or those McKinnon girls.”
When Rita got on a roll, very little could pacify her. So Angela hadn’t bothered to point out that she and Gabby had begun to drift apart years ago, when they’d attended different high schools, made different friends, developed vastly different interests. She hadn’t blamed Gabby in the least for wanting those closest to her now – her own sisters, best friends, her fiancé’s sister – to be her bridesmaids.
And, thought Angela as she wrinkled her nose in distaste, it was actually a very, very good thing she wasn’t one of Gabby’s bridesmaids because there was no possible way she would have ever willingly consented to wear that ridiculous spun sugar confection of a dress. Not to mention the fact that she was at least four or five inches taller than the next tallest of the bridesmaids, and would have looked and felt horribly awkward standing next to all of them.
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