by DD Prince
We’d been here since just after dinner last night and though we’d had sex three times, we hadn’t left our villa and it was the afternoon. I wanted to explore.
“Gotta check in with home,” he told me, looking more irritated.
“Oh,” I whispered.
“We’ll go out for dinner tonight,” he added, thrusting a hand through his hair.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Pick a few options and I’ll talk to the concierge and get him to book something.”
“Alrighty.” I perked up and flopped off the inflatable toy into the water with a giant splash, then swam to the steps and climbed out.
His eyes were on me, heated, checking out my wet body in my baby blue bikini.
I squeezed water out of my hair and grabbed a towel, dried off quickly, and dashed inside to grab my pink laptop, feeling his eyes trail me the whole time. I hoped he always looked at me like this.
When I got back outside, he was talking to Aldo, the young man who was taking care of us. I smiled and met Aldo’s eyes. Almost instantly, there was a weird tension in the air that made Aldo’s eyes shoot toward his feet. My gaze flew to Tommy. He was gunning me down with a dark look that I didn’t understand.
Their conversation was ending, so the man muttered something in parting, then moved away, his head still bowed.
“Tia, cover up. Fuck,” Tommy grumbled.
Huh?
“I’m in my bathing suit,” I defended, putting my hand on my waist, knowing this was my moment, the time to push, to get him to unleash some of his frustrations. “We’re in paradise. I was just in the pool and it’s a hundred degrees out. What do you want me to do, put on a fricking snowsuit?” I put the laptop down on a table.
He arched a brow in challenge and his eyes were on my chest. Oh. Erect nipples due to the air conditioning inside the villa.
I felt my belly go wobbly as heat surged inside my bikini bottoms. He looked like he wanted to spank me.
I wanted that, too.
I stared at him in challenge and huffily put the other hand to my waist.
“Come here,” he ordered.
I rolled my eyes and moved my arms to cross my chest.
He gave me a dark look. “Now.”
“How about you come here instead,” I volleyed with a snotty look.
He quickly separated the space between us and had me pressed against the glass of the sliding doors that led to our bedroom.
“That attitude need adjusting, baby girl?” His voice had dropped an octave.
“What do you think?”
It didn’t take much to get that look in his eyes. I’d suspected it wouldn’t.
“I think maybe.” His eyes danced with darkness. His hand cupped my left breast and his thumb skated over my still-hard nipple.
“How about you adjust it?” I suggested, breathily.
A dangerous gleam lit in his eyes and he wet his bottom lip with his tongue. I mirrored him and did the same.
“Get in there,” he demanded.
I reached behind me and yanked on the sliding door I was against, opening it enough to fit inside.
“Feeling bossy?” I asked, flirtily, backing away.
“Always,” he replied, not a glimmer of humor in his voice nor his eyes as he moved toward me.
I continued to back up. He advanced as my back hit the bed, then grabbed my ankles and yanked, making my body slide down. He then flipped me over, simultaneously hauling my bikini bottoms down enough to bare my ass. I gasped at the snap of his palm against it.
“Not sure you should be playin’ with fire today, Athena.”
“But, I like it hot,” I said into the pillow, unable to hide my excitement even as my backside stung from his slap.
I heard the bite of his zipper going down fast and then felt him against the back of me.
“Up on those knees,” he demanded, backing away.
I complied, then he got near again. The bikini bottoms were resting around my knees, his hardness pressing against my tailbone.
Goosebumps rose on my flesh.
He slapped my ass again and then reached under to cup my breast. He hauled me upright while on my knees, my back against his front. I tried to reach up toward the headboard, but I was too far back. His cock was prodding me, then slowly sliding inside. I gasped as I felt him powerfully, yet in a controlled way move forward, inch by delicious inch.
“Oh Tommy, that’s so---"
His hand clapped over my mouth, cutting me off from talking. He pulled out, then slammed his pelvis forward to ram in. Deep. His mouth was right at my ear.
“Sassy mouth you got on you, don’t you?” His free hand clapped hard right between my legs. “Not another word.”
My eyes bulged. My heart hammered.
His middle two fingers pressed hard against my clit and held there, then slid back enough to go to my opening. He pulled his cock out and the fingers went inside and pressed up against my g-spot. He worked it for a few minutes, making me whimper behind his fingers. And then his cock was back inside me and his hand let go of my mouth. Now wet fingers were there, pressing down on my tongue.
“Suck.” His hips slammed forward and he rotated them, making me whimper. “Now, Tia.”
I slurped and he groaned as he slammed in again and again. I gagged on his fingers and that made him groan even louder. He pulled them out, clasped my throat, and fucked me harder until we collapsed forward together. He then held me down by the back of the neck while he kept going, rutting like a beast.
“Nobody.. sees .. this body. Not a cabana boy. Not. Anybody. You cover up unless it’s just you and me. You hear me?”
“Oh-k-kay.” I wasn’t about to defend myself, stating it’d just been him and I and that I had no idea Aldo would be there when I stepped back out.
“Only I get to feast my eyes on this sweet little ass. This pussy. Your hard nipples. No one even sees your goddamn belly button but me. Your body? Mine.”
“Such a chauvinist,” I teased.
He grabbed the laces of my bikini top and pulled. I felt the strings slip away, then he had the length of my hair, held it tight, and fucked me harder.
“Watch that mouthiness, baby girl, or I’ll ram my cock so far down your throat and for so many hours, you’ll be hoarse tomorrow.”
My nipples were rock hard. He reached under to pinch one, causing my body to buck.
“Not a bad idea. Stop that sassiness by keeping my cock in your mouth all day?”
His other hand slid under and strummed at my clit. I matched his gyrations, bucking my hips. And then I started to come.
That was when he stopped. Stopped.
“Or, maybe there’s a better way to keep you in line.”
Stopped? Oh no.
“Tommy?”
I felt the sensations that had built toward that peak ebb down to tingling. And then… nothing.
Absence.
He was off the bed.
I rolled to my back and looked up at him.
Tommy, buck naked, had his muscled arms folded across his awesome chest. He was looking down at me with a smirk. The sexiest sort of smirk.
I blinked and pushed my hair out of my eyes.
“Goin’ for a shower. Stay there and wait for me like a good girl. Maybe I’ll finish you off. Maybe. Do not put your hand anywhere near that pussy. It’s mine.”
“What…”
He disappeared into the bathroom.
I was instantly out of the bed, tripping on the bikini bottoms that slid down my legs as I moved. I did some fancy stumbling to get out of them and then I was in the bathroom and climbing into the giant luxury shower with him.
He was under the water.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I snapped and tried to turn him to me.
Obviously, I wasn’t as strong as him (not anywhere near it) so he didn’t budge.
“Not feeling like a good girl, I see.”
“Nope.”
“Can I help you?” he
inquired.
“Forgetting something?” I asked. No, more like demanded haughtily.
“Are you?” He looked down at me with challenge in his eyes, water droplets on his eyelashes as well as running down to his bottom lip. “I told you to be a good girl. Seems like you want more punishment.” He grabbed my face by the chin.
His hard dick was betraying his stern attitude attempt.
“You’re a tease, Tommy Ferrano,” I whined, despite my squishy face.
“Yeah, for you, I am.” He gave me a big smile and my heart swelled.
“And you, the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, are even sexier all wet.”
I did a little hop and he caught me, spun, and put me against the tiled wall. I squirmed until I got him inside me. He watched me struggle to do it, doing nothing to help, and looking mighty amused as I whimpered and wiggled to get him in me.
And then he was sliding inside, and I was groaning at how good it felt.
His eyes were on me as I did and when his mouth opened and formed an O, I felt immensely proud of myself.
I rode him, hard, riding in a way to grind my clit on him, with frustration, chasing my denied orgasm, but he decided to prolong things and he kept adjusting, taking the friction away from where I needed it.
I was a whiny, whimpering, pleading mess.
And then he stopped teasing, changed course, unable to hold off his own any longer, and made sure he hit it with every thrust. He hit it alright. He hit it good and thoroughly until he made me shatter, crying out in laments to God, to him.
“Fuck, fuck, holy fuck, Tommy!”
I was keening, digging nails into him. He swallowed my cries with hungry kisses, and was coming with my hands in his hair, then groaning my name as my teeth sank into the cap of his sexy inked shoulder.
He carried me back to bed wrapped in a towel, towel-dried me off with a lazy and satisfied smile, dried himself with the same towel and curled up with me after tossing it to the floor.
We had a mini nap and I woke first, seeing a peaceful look on his face like I hadn’t seen in weeks.
Goal = accomplished.
Tommy
She looked fucking edible in a dress the same shade of green as her eyes, sandals with cork-looking straps and heels on them, her little toes painted the color of black cherries.
We were at an oceanside restaurant with a reggae band and dancing. She’d pigged out (as did I) and then she was bouncing on her chair, eye-pleading with me.
I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to ask her to dance.
“Love this song,” she’d said and I’d bit off an annoyed response about it being too loud, and she’d tried to be cute with, “If you think it’s too loud, you’re just too old.”
I’d glared at that, but she was sitting there, still bouncing.
“Tia, fuck sakes,” I grumbled and looked away.
I sipped my drink and looked back at her.
Now she was sulking.
And now I was feeling shitty. Guilt was still an emotion that was foreign to me and it only ever applied to her. This trip was meant to be an escape, but I felt that unwanted emotion churning in my gut way too much these days.
But, fuck, how would I just forget all the shit happening at home? My father is rotting in the ground. My brother is trying to deal with shit. He’s capable. Dare’s more than capable. But, is it safe?
Other than Tia, he’s the only person I 100% trust. But what if it’s too much for him to manage by himself? What if he misses some cue of danger that he’d otherwise catch if he didn’t have to manage the giant load all by his fucking self because I’ve abandoned ship?
Why did I let him talk me into this? I was losing my shit, worrying something would happen to Tia, and he told me to get outta town; take a minute. Why the fuck did I listen to him? Because I’d shown him a moment of weakness. He was only trying to help, but I was regretting leaving home.
I worried that my father’s associates and worse, his enemies, might be looking for opportunities to take advantage. Anyone who asked would be told I was taking a break with my fiancée. They also knew that was a typical excuse for someone in our world that didn’t want anyone to know what was going on with them.
Taking a break could mean many things, including dealing with enemies. Maybe some thought I was out seeking to avenge Pop. Maybe certain people worried there might be a target on their backs. Men in my world feeling like they were marked would do things to protect themselves.
There were some that also had to know that Dare and I were thinking of exiting a lot of the business areas Pop had been in. What would they think of it all and how it seemed to tie to the death of Tom Ferrano?
His sons were always his dutiful soldiers. His right and left hands. And I’d been groomed to take over. But now with him dead and us jumping ship? What did others think about that?
I’d be suspicious of us. At the very least, I’d have my eye on the situation. And I didn’t fuckin’ like the idea of anyone havin’ eyes on us.
As much as I had help and assistance from the Fuentes cartel, I’d pissed some other people off when I took out Juan Carlos Castillo. Added insult to injury, likely, when we took out his nephew, Jesse. Rumor was that Jesse was seen as a waste of space by his brother who was still a powerful man in Mexico, but waste of space or not, blood was blood. And appearances were important. He might feel like he appears weak by not making a statement. Despite Zack Jacobs assuring me that it wouldn’t happen, stating his connections and relationships made him 100% sure that Alessandro Romero had no plans to avenge Jesse, that it’d also been seen as Even-Steven for Jesse taking out James and putting non-lethal bullets in Pop. But what if I was putting too much stock in Zack’s opinion? What if I was ignoring potential for a plan that could already be in motion?
If I wasn’t there at the helm looking powerful and in control, would I be seen as weak or be under suspicion? Why was Tom Ferrano’s second-born there doing everything instead of his eldest in order to sell?
People in our world respected Dare. It wasn’t as if they’d think the business wasn’t in capable hands, but Pop gone, me off the grid, and if word got around that Dare was getting ready to sell off more than a few subsidiaries? There could be talk. And when there’s talk, there’s always the chance of opportunistic fucking pricks deciding to play games.
As I’d left my father and his men in a bloody mess for our contact JC to clean up, getting Tia out of there and heading back to the farm, it wasn’t the end. And even though I agreed with Dare what his role would be and how we’d attempt to move forward, I was having trouble relaxing. Because I didn’t know what the fuck was next. I didn’t like the lack of control I had here.
How could I sit back and do nothing, enjoy the sun and sand with the girl I was about to marry when my father was rotting, one of my sisters was grieving her dead husband, both sisters grieving our Pop, the business on the cusp of being dismantled, and who knew what else? My father always had so many irons in the fire at all times, and as we’d come to learn in the weeks before his death --- no one knew about all the irons. He played with his hand close to his vest. What was about to start smokin’ that we didn’t yet know about?
Was my love for Tia, which made me feel desperate to get her far away from the bullshit at home, putting us all in danger?
“Just take a minute,” Dare had said. “We get it all cleaned up, look at all the books, and potential options soon. Just take time for you and Tia. If I were you, that’s what I’d do. Step off the grid and really have time to think. I’ll be here, overseeing getting all our ducks in a row and then we sit down and figure out what’s next. Keep you posted every step of the way, bro. Keep my eyes open. We have things ready so that the first clue I get it might be goin’ south, we bug out.”
At least I could trust my brother. I had that, at least. I only hoped I wasn’t fucking up and putting us all at risk right now.
***
Sleep was a luxury I wasn’t getting on
my luxury holiday in Aruba. Most nights since Pop first got shot by Jesse Romero’s crew and then even more after he died, I’d lay awake for hours, often tuned into the rhythmic sound of her breathing.
The nights without her while I was in Italy before shit hit the fan, I barely slept. But having her beside me didn’t make enough of a difference the past few weeks for me to fully rest.
Most nights since I shot Pop, I played events, possible scenarios, and potential plans over in my head. Sometimes I’d lay there and seethe about wrongs done to me, to her, wanting to kill people I’d already killed all over again, only slower, more creatively. Though, the justice I’d dished out in Mexico when they took her was pretty damn creative, if I did say so myself.
And when I did sleep, I often woke up with the feeling we weren’t alone or with dreams of all sorts of shit. Pop laughing at me. Pop pointing a gun at her. Pop shooting my own mother.
Pop telling me I’d failed his ultimate loyalty test. Pop saying, “I would’ve let you keep her, my boy. You only had to trust me. You didn’t, so now here we are.”
Tia’s father stealing her. Earl Johnson and Juan Carlos Castillo dragging her bloody and away from me. That little punk she used to date holding her hand and her smiling at him with love, her spinning, twirling with that beautiful halo of long, chestnut, silky hair flowing through the air, then my beautiful baby girl stopping to look at me and doing it with disgust.
“I hate you, Tommy. You stole me. You broke me. I curse that day you came and tied that cherry into a knot in front of me. I’m the cherry. Twisted in knots; chewed up. Ruined.”
All sorts of shit haunted me while demons taunted me. Not least of which was the fact that this girl who I’d claimed, who’d agreed to be mine, was hoping for fun, for adventure, and I was stuck in my head, making this trip a giant fail.
I had to try. All she’d been through with me so far? I had to man the fuck up and try. Give her some joy and fun. Help her forget her worries about my state of mind. Make it feel worth it to be tied to me for the rest of her life.
I told her in the beginning it wouldn’t be all sunset walks on the beach and shit like that. But I couldn’t let her down by making every minute with me miserable.
