“Let’s go, Chica.”
Chapter 26
I have come to believe…that there are some people—men and women alike—who should not be married at all.
—Marya Mannes
Samuel led Teresa into the hotel, then swung her into the circle of his arms, taking the stairs two at a time. He shifted her slight weight long enough to unlock the door to his room. Using his shoulder, he pushed it open, stepped inside, then kicked it closed. Light from the courtyard inched through the louvers on the shuttered windows, providing enough illumination for him to discern the bed.
He placed Teresa on the mattress, his body following hers down. Her heat, her sweet musky scent, the velvety feel of her tiny, compact body sucked him into a vortex of desire and longing he was powerless to resist.
Teresa had prayed for this moment and now that it was happening she couldn’t believe it. She was in Samuel Cole’s bed, in his embrace, his hardness pressing against her middle, and she was paralyzed with wonder and fear.
She’d rehearsed seducing him, learned to bring herself pleasure, practiced kissing techniques all within the privacy of her bedroom, but she wasn’t back in the small hot house in a poor West Palm Beach neighborhood. She was in an Old San Juan hotel room with the man with whom she’d fallen in love.
They were so close, breaths mingling, flesh touching. Shyly, tentatively, she kissed Samuel’s smooth jaw, smiling. “You smell wonderful.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling from his chest like far-off thunder. “So do you, Chica. I love the way you smell, the way you feel, and the way you kiss.” Cradling her face between his palms, he moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness. The kiss deepened, his tongue parting her lips.
Teresa gasped, shocked at the roughness of the tongue filling up her mouth, but her shock was short-lived, as it moved in and out in a slow hypnotic cadence that had her close to fainting away.
Blood coursed through her veins like hot oil.
Her body vibrated like liquid fire.
Her breathing grew shallow when his fingers feathered up her legs and thighs, sending waves of delight washing over her. A fog of desire clouded her as the harsh uneven rhythm of her own breathing resounded loudly inside her head.
“Do you want me, Chica?”
Teresa closed her eyes. His query had penetrated the erotic haze. “Sí, Papi,” she whispered. “I want you so much.”
Samuel slowly and methodically undressed Teresa: shoes, garters, dress, stockings, slip and panties, then himself. She lay before him, her smooth khaki-brown skin shimmering in a ribbon of remaining daylight.
Moving over her, he took her face, held it gently, and showered kisses around her lips, along her jaw, down the column of her neck. He released her face, lowered his head and suckled her breasts, licking and biting gently on the nipples. Her gasps became hiccupping sounds as he journeyed lower; his tongue mapped a path over her flat belly, and still lower.
Positioning his thumbs against the blond down, he spread the folds to her vagina and pushed his face against the moist, pulsing flesh. He alternated licking and rolling the swollen nodule between his teeth.
Teresa moaned, sobbed and screamed at him not to stop. He couldn’t stop even if he’d wanted to. The woman between whose legs he lay had bewitched him. It took only a single glance and he’d found himself sucked into and drowning in a morass of lust that made him crave her when he didn’t want to.
Everything he’d professed when sleeping with a woman was forgotten as he guided his blood-engorged penis into her vagina.
Gasps echoed in the stillness of the room—his and Teresa’s. She was tight, tighter than any woman he’d slept with. He thrust into her, eliciting another soft gasp from Teresa. Sweat poured off his face and body and onto her trembling breasts.
“I can’t!”
Teresa’s fingers tightened around his wrists, her sharp fingernails biting into the tender flesh. “Sí, se puede. Yes, you can,” she translated. “You must, Samuel. You can’t leave me like this. Wanting you so much that my heart hurts.”
Supporting his weight on his arms, Samuel kissed her tenderly. “I want you, too,” he confessed truthfully. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“What if I tear you?”
“It will heal, Papi.”
“Chica—”
Teresa cut off his words with a kiss that belied her sexual inexperience. Her tongue plunged into Samuel’s mouth, mimicking his hardness sliding in and out of her. She knew she’d achieved her intent when he groaned loudly. Growing bolder, she moved her hands down his moist back and cupped his firm hips.
The hardness poised at the entrance to her femininity swelled, stretching her virginal flesh. And with one powerful thrust of his hips, Samuel tore through the barrier that had kept him from full possession of what had become his latest obsession.
A bloodcurdling scream exploded from the back of Teresa’s throat, only to be swallowed up by Samuel when he covered her mouth with his at the precise moment he ripped her hymen asunder.
He went completely still, savoring the moment when he and Teresa had become one. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he crooned near her ear. “I just wish it could’ve been easier, but you are so small, baby.”
Tears leaked from under her tightly closed eyes and streamed into her hair. “Maybe I’m not that small. Maybe it is because you are so big.”
Choking sounds came from his throat. Within seconds Teresa had reduced erudite Samuel Cole to a bumbling, inexperienced boy. He wanted to ask her how many penises she had seen, but he didn’t want to talk.
Pulling back, he tested how far he had to go before thrusting into her newly opened flesh. Tucking her curves neatly into his own contours, he set a slow, steady rhythm.
Love flowed in Teresa like warm honey, the pleasure pure and explosive. She alternated trailing her fingers up and down her lover’s back with tunneling them through the hair on his chest. She loved his body; she loved him!
The tempo changed, slowing, then quickening, then slowing down again. Raw sensuousness carried her to heights of passion she could never have imagined. The comforting weight bearing down on her, the hardness sliding in and out of her body, and the combined scent of their bodies and sexual desire hurtled Teresa to a place where she’d never been before.
She couldn’t control her outcry of erotic pleasure or disguise her body’s reaction to Samuel’s hardness, which seemingly had swelled to even larger proportions. Anchoring her arms under his shoulders, she surrendered, shaking and weeping uncontrollably with the joy that hurtled her beyond herself and reality.
Pulling out before he ejaculated, Samuel reversed their position, and they lay together, limbs entwined, motionless, and waiting for their pulses to resume a normal rhythm.
Teresa, her cheek resting over his heart, fell asleep.
However, sleep wasn’t as kind to Samuel. A heaviness settled in the pit of his stomach as if he’d swallowed a stone. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept with a woman since he’d married M.J., but it was the first time he hadn’t used a condom!
“Wake up, Chica.”
Teresa rolled over onto her belly. “Go away.”
Leaning over, Samuel kissed her shoulder. “You can either stay here or get up and go shopping with me in St. Thomas.”
Turning over quickly, she stared up at him. He was naked! It was torture for her not to look below his waist. She sat up, and the sheet covering her breasts slipped to her belly.
“When are we leaving?”
Samuel stared at Teresa, complete surprise on his face. The full impact of her beauty made his heart slam against his ribs. The bright sunlight coming in through the window bathed her nude body in gold: hair, face and breasts. Something in her eyes, darkening to a lush, verdant green, invited him to postpone his trip and spend the day in bed with her. He knew it would be days before they would make love again, because he wanted to wait for her tender flesh to heal.
Wh
en he’d awakened earlier and left the bed to use the bathroom, the bloodstained sheet was blatant evidence that he’d taken her innocence. He was her boss, she his employee, he was thirty, she nineteen, and they’d become lovers.
Smiling, Samuel scooped her off the bed. “Now. Come, let’s take a shower together.”
Holding on to his neck, Teresa rested her head on his shoulder. “I’ve never taken a shower with anyone.”
“Then we must make certain to make your first time a memorable one.”
Lifting her head, she gave him a direct stare. “Like last night?”
Samuel’s gaze caressed the white-gold waves falling around her delicate jaw, the full lush mouth that was made for kissing, and the glowing green eyes that changed color depending on her mood.
“Last night was very, very special. I’ll never forget it.”
“Neither will I,” she concurred.
For Teresa, sharing a shower with Samuel was like making love again. He soaped her body, his fingers skimming the area between her legs, then handed her the soap so she would do the same with him.
“Where do I begin?”
Samuel turned, presenting her with his back. “Start with the back, then work your way around to the front.”
“But you started with my front,” she argued softly.
Moving closer, he pulled her against him. “That’s because your front is so delectable.” He cupped a firm breast. “You have perfect breasts.” His hand moved between her legs. “And the sweetest little pussy.” His hand inched around her hips. “And your ass isn’t doing too badly either.”
Heat singed Teresa’s face. “Samuel!”
He lifted his eyebrows. “What?”
“How can you say such things?”
“What things?”
Rising on tiptoe, she whispered, “Pussy.”
Grinning, Samuel shook his head. She was so sexy, yet so innocent. “I could’ve said twat.”
“Samuel!”
“Wash my back, Chica, before the water is completely cold.”
She complied, soaping a cloth and drawing it over his shoulders, down his straight spine and over his buttocks. Samuel Cole was beautifully proportioned for a man: broad shoulders, slim waist, hips, and long, powerfully built legs. Moving around him, she soaped his neck, chest, belly, then moved down to his legs and feet.
“You missed a spot, Teresa.”
She stared up at Samuel staring down at her. She’d deliberately ignored that part of his body that had given her so much gratification.
“You can wash it yourself.”
“No. I want you to wash it.”
Teresa backed away from him. She’d avoided looking at his penis, but now he wanted her to touch it. “I can’t, Samuel.”
Taking her hand, he guided it to his belly. “Start with the pubic hair, then gently lift the testicles and soap them like this.”
She followed his instructions, her eyes widening when his penis moved under her fingers. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she watched it grow bigger.
Samuel let go of her hand and cradled her face. Water darkened her hair to a tawny gold and spiked her lashes. “See the control you have over me? One look, a mere touch, and I get hard.”
“Has it always been that way, Papi?”
“Lately it has,” he answered truthfully.
“I’m glad.”
“So am I.”
Taking the cloth from Teresa, Samuel finished washing himself, watching her as she stared at his erection. It wasn’t until he stepped out of the shower to dry himself that it finally went down.
Teresa stood beside Samuel as he examined a tray filled with pearls strung on silk cords. There were tiny knots between each pearl and some graduated in size, while others were perfectly matched. The colors ranged from alabaster to pink, gold to South Sea–gray and Tahitian-black.
“Which ones do you like?” Samuel asked, staring at her profile.
“They’re all beautiful.”
He angled his head and lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have a preference?”
She liked the gold-hued, but liked the pink better. “The pink.”
Samuel frowned at the jeweler hovering over them like a vulture perched on a branch waiting for carrion. The man with the thick Dutch accent was an expert gemologist. He could closely identify the carat weight, color and clarity of any gem without his loupe.
Grinning, he picked a strand of perfectly matched pink-hued pearls off the velvet tray. “Your lady has good taste and a good eye,” he said to Samuel.
Something told Hans Vanderpool that the stunning blond-haired woman with Samuel Cole wasn’t his wife, but his mistress. But who was he to be judgmental? The American had already selected an exquisitely carved Italian-made cameo gold bracelet with a variety of colored stones, a pair of tiny diamond earrings and a small crucifix and chain. These were no doubt for his wife and children.
Samuel took the strand from Mr. Vanderpool and looped it around Teresa’s neck. His gaze met hers in the mirror the jeweler had placed on the counter in front of her. The pink baubles against her tawny skin took on a deeper rosy hue as if warmed by her body’s heat.
“How large are they?” Samuel asked.
“Eleven millimeters.”
“All of them?”
“Yes, sir.”
Samuel nodded. “Where are your clasps?”
Smiling and stroking his goatee, Hans mumbled a silent prayer. Even if he did not make another sale, he would count the day as a very profitable one. Mr. Cole hadn’t bothered to ask the price for the pearls.
“Would you like a simple gold one or one with stones?”
Samuel removed the pearls from Teresa’s neck, handing them to Hans. They were still warm from her body. His hands rested casually on her shoulders, causing a slight shiver to shudder through her.
“What type of stones?”
“Rubies, pearls, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds.”
“Show me them all.”
Teresa suffered Samuel’s closeness as he bent over her shoulder looking at clasps for the pearl necklace. She felt intoxicated by his clean and masculine scent. She wanted him, oh how she wanted him, but knew that wasn’t possible for several more days. They would share a bed, but not their bodies until the tenderness between her legs was gone. Eyes wide, she watched Samuel point to an elaborate gold knot encrusted with brilliant blue-white diamonds.
“I want this one. Now if you can find a pair of matching earrings we can conclude our business.”
Samuel said it with a quiet finality; it was a tone of authority that was familiar to anyone who’d done business with the owner of ColeDiz International, Ltd.
Hans searched the showcase for a pair of pearl earrings, and when he found them he handed them, the string of pearls and the clasp to a younger version of himself. He said something in Dutch, and the young boy who appeared to be about sixteen sat down at a table in a corner of the small shop and positioned a loupe over one eye.
Taking Teresa’s hand, Samuel gently squeezed her fingers. “Why don’t you pick out something for your mother while I settle the bill with Mr. Vanderpool?”
“I…I didn’t bring any money,” she whispered.
Samuel frowned at her. “Don’t embarrass me, Chica. Pick out something. And make certain it’s nice.”
She didn’t know why, but she despised the woman who claimed Samuel as her husband and was also the mother of his children. Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but she was also a Diaz, heir to El Supremo Cigars. Her father died and left her millions, whereas if Ramon Maldonado died he’d leave his family nada! They didn’t own the house they lived in.
Ramon fled Cuba with his young wife after word got to the local police that he was involved in a secret organization opposed to the ruling government. He’d escaped with only the clothes on his back and enough money to pay the passage for two to the United States.
Ramon and Silvia made it to West Palm Beach, where they worked clearing l
and for the planting of fruit trees, cooked and cleaned houses for those too lazy to do it themselves. Their life improved once they were hired to work in a local cotton mill. Silvia hemmed towels, sheets and pillowcases, while Ramon worked in the shipping department. The work was tedious, but together they earned enough to pay rent, put food on the table and clothe their children.
She forgot about Marguerite and her life of privilege when she spied a pair of cameo earrings suspended from gold wires. They were perfect for Silvia Maldonado.
Teresa turned and found Samuel staring at her. They shared a smile. She beckoned to him. “I found what I want.” If her father worked all of his life he’d never be able to give his wife something so exquisite.
Samuel directed his gaze where Teresa pointed. The earrings were ovals encircled with sparkling diamonds on a delicate gold braid. He motioned to Hans to remove the earrings from the case.
Teresa felt her eyes welling with tears. “I’m going outside,” she whispered.
Samuel gave her a quizzical look. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I have something in my eye.” Walking out of the shop and into the bright sunlight, she gave in to her emotions and cried. When Samuel joined her, she was back in control.
Holding his purchases in one hand, he reached for hers. “Are you hungry?” They’d left San Juan without eating because they hadn’t wanted to miss the boat.
Leaning into him, Teresa pressed her face to his chest. “I’m starved.”
Lowering his head, Samuel dropped a kiss on her fragrant hair. “Me, too.”
Samuel and Teresa returned to Puerto Rico exhausted and tanned. Both fell asleep during the short drive from the harbor to their hotel. They shared a shower, this one very different from their first one.
Teresa did not remember Samuel blotting the moisture from her body or carrying her to his bed, because she had fallen asleep before her head touched his pillow.
“Ask him how many acres were lost,” Samuel said to Teresa.
She translated, then listened to Rodolfo Hernandez’s response. “At least two hundred,” she said.
Best Kept Secrets Page 31
