Tug

by KJ Bell

  A look of relief seeps over her face. “Torrente believed you?”

  “No, he called my bluff within the first ten minutes of my arrival, but Torrente has another reason to forgive the debt and deal with Eduardo. We have to go see him in a couple of days, but he assures me Eduardo will not bother you. I’ve taken care of the arrangements for your grandfather, too. He’ll be buried with your grandmother. You’ll have to go with me to the funeral home to sign some paperwork before they can transport him up north.”

  She stumbles backward, shaking her head. “No. I can’t leave Mexico. Eduardo will find me.”

  “Did you not hear me? He won’t touch you.”

  Her fist covers her mouth, and she turns away. “He called. He said he was coming for me.”

  “When?

  She spins back around, her expression defeated. “A little after noon.”

  I close the distance she put between us, yanking her into my arms. “Calm down. That was before I met with Torrente.”

  A smile begins to form on her beautiful face, but it quickly turns to a frown. “You said we have to go see Torrente, and you trust him?”

  “Yes.”

  She pushes me away. “Then you’re very foolish,” she says her voice scolding.

  I laugh, her feistiness ever amusing to me. “Remember when you agreed to trust me?” She nods faintly. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You’re not in any danger.”

  I know she’s skeptical, but she thanks me. Her arms wind around my waist, squeezing hard. I hold her in my arms most of the night, reassuring her that I’ve taken care of everything and we’re all safe.

  Though I was terrified to return to the Bay Area, I wanted Papa to be reunited with my grandmother, the woman he loved most of his life, so he could truly rest in peace. Javier reluctantly stayed behind with Tori. I’m incredibly grateful to have someone in my life to help me with Javier who is stable and treats him like her own. She’s become an amazing friend to me, a trusted sister that I never expected to have in my life. Knowing Javier will be well taken care of makes the separation from him easier. I couldn’t bring him here, feeling like there was a miniscule chance Eduardo would be lurking somewhere, ready to ignore Torrente’s orders to stay away from me.

  Tug and I check into the Monterey Plaza Hotel on Cannery Row. The funeral is in Watsonville tomorrow, and it’s a quick drive to get there. I would have been fine with a cheap motel, but Tug informed me my days of cheap motels are long gone. When we walk into the presidential suite, I stop in my tracks.

  “This is too much,” I say, turning to leave.

  He catches me by the arm. “What’s too much?”

  “This,” I say, glancing at the dining table. “There are twelve chairs at that table. What do we need twelve chairs for?”

  “We don’t.” He takes my hand and walks me out to a private sun deck and patio overlooking the ocean, with a large Jacuzzi in the corner. “We need this.” He waggles his eyebrows, his grin the boyish and playful one I adore. I have to admit the view is pretty spectacular. He cups my cheek in his hand, his grin too hard to resist. “Eventually, you’re going to have to get used to this lifestyle. It’s part of the package.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this lifestyle.” My palm strokes his cock through his jeans, feeling it harden under my touch. “But I do like your package.” My teeth saw my bottom lip, waiting for him to respond.

  “Is that so?”

  “It’s big.” I flutter my lashes, the bashful look I send him intentional. “I love big packages.”

  “And where exactly do you like my ‘big’ package?” he asks, his eyebrow lifting in a dare. His expression is challenging, like he thinks I won’t answer. He should know me well enough to know he can’t embarrass me. Tug may be a dirty birdy, but he’s met his match.

  My fingers quickly dive into his jeans. His breath hitches when my hand plunges under the waistband of his boxers and quickly springs him free. “I like your ‘big’ package in my mouth,” I say teasingly and glance up into his hooded eyes. He loves when I talk dirty and things have been so tense that we haven’t had sex. I’m horny and in desperate need of a little Tug-time. “And in my pussy.” His eyes darken, but I’m not finished. I’m going for shock factor, like he usually does with me. “In my ass.”

  I can hardly believe I said the words, and I mentally pat myself on the back when I see the look of astonishment on his face. Then my eyes widen when I see the lust in his eyes.

  He yanks on my arm, slamming me against his chest, a hungry growl in his throat vibrating against my skin. His hands squeeze my waist. He spins me around and pushes me forward toward the patio table. My skirt is shoved up over my hips as his fingers slide under the thin strap of my panties. The satin falls to the floor a second later, and he shoves my thighs apart.

  It’s the one thing I wouldn’t allow when I worked at the club because it made me feel too vulnerable. Is it good to follow through with this, to allow myself to be so open and bare to him? I said the words, gave my permission, but I’m nervous. This is an act of trust, and he has so much power over me, the ability to hurt me more than anyone ever has. I can’t bring myself to believe he’ll hurt me, though. After everything he’s done for me, this is my chance to show him the faith I have in him, that I feel safe with him and that I have complete trust in him.

  His pants drop to his ankles. I inhale a ragged breath and curl my fingers over both sides of the table. My teeth hurt from clamping my jaw closed. His fingers glide from my pussy to the opening of my ass, lubricating the tight skin. This is it. This is actually going to happen.

  Cool air from the ocean rushes across my face, calming my nerves. His thumb nears the only virginal, untouched part of my body and presses into me. I’m not sure if it’s my body or my mind protesting the intrusion, but he pushes past the resistance, testing my readiness. His fingers work my sex over my clit, his thumb easing in and out of my ass, causing a strange and unfamiliar sensation. I groan painfully, but I feel pleasure and the conflict is strangely arousing. Wet lips kiss between my shoulder blades. “Are you sure?” he whispers.

  “Yes!” I scream. I’ve never been more sure of anything.

  He removes his thumb and replaces it with one of his fingers, pushing farther inside.

  “Ah,” I moan, the sensation mildly painful, but I want more, and I push my hips into his hand.

  “Fuck!” he groans in my ear.

  He withdraws his fingers, coating them again with my wetness. This time two fingers slowly circle my tight opening before he pushes them inside. It’s painful, but I’m too turned on to care. His fingers twist, and I cry out loudly before he removes them.

  I turn my head, peering at him over my shoulder. He brings his hand to his mouth, spitting inside of it. His hand lowers, I assume to lubricate himself, and then I feel his cock nudging my tight opening. I turn my head back, staring into the suite through the glass, and grind my teeth together. With every inch he slowly enters, I fall further in love with him, his carefulness stealing my breath away. I’m lost in adoration, oblivious to noises from the crowded street below and the waves crashing into the cliffs. Fully inside me, he stills. His lips kiss up my neck to my ear. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I utter, breathless, overwhelmed with the intensity of our joining. It hurts, but it’s not unbearable and I want more. Tears leak from my eyes, caused by a feeling of complete love and devotion for this man.

  He lifts his head and gets a firm grasp on my hips as he starts to move. At first, I feel more pain than pleasure, but slowly, my body begins to accept him. He feels thicker and heavier there, but more erotic also. My body and my brain are completely confused. They want to protest the moment I’ve always forbidden, but they also want to experience every mind-numbing, delicious second of pure and sensual gratification. His fingers continue to massage my clit, and I feel a powerful buildup brewing from deep in my belly.

  My orgasm is going to be earth-shatter
ing, and my sex squeezes tight in anticipation. His movements transition from slow to quick to chaotic as his legs began to shake. My moans combine with his, filling the air with our cries of pleasure. He pushes forward, burying himself so deep the mild pain returns, but the passionate sounds of his labored breathing make me crave more, and I push back urging him to continue.

  He groans loudly, slowly withdrawing and surging forward with one last powerful thrust. It’s my complete undoing. I come unraveled, spiraling out of control as I succumb to blissful waves of ecstasy rolling through my body. I feel him pulse inside me as he releases, and I crash onto the table, sated heavily by the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

  Tug’s touch is gentle as he massages my shoulders, working his way down my spine while slowly withdrawing from me.

  He spins me around and I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest and absorbing his warmth. I feel weak and he holds me close, palming the side of my head.

  “I’ve never done that before. It was incredible.”

  Providing him with a first sexual experience thrills me. I lift my head. “You make me feel safe. I haven’t felt this secure since I was a little girl. Thank you.”

  He smiles and pulls my head back against his chest. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

  Showered and dressed for dinner, we walk up the beach to a restaurant that is part of the Intercontinental Hotel. The hostess seats us on the back patio at a table in front of a fire pit. The evening is a dream date. We drink and laugh, eat too much, and lick whipped cream from our dessert off each other’s mouths. The restaurant airs an old black and white movie, using the brick building across the way as a screen. I get to enjoy Tug’s jokes about the clothing and hairstyles from the era. And just for the evening, I forget that my papa is being laid to rest tomorrow, that Eduardo may find me, and that we have to go visit Mr. Torrente soon. Tonight, it is only me and the man I love.

  We can’t keep our hands off each other as we ride the elevator to the top floor. Our lips fight to stay connected as we pull at each other’s clothing, losing pieces along the way until we reach the bedroom naked. He walks me backward to the bed and pushes me gently down onto the mattress. His warm body covers mine.

  “I love you, sweet girl,” he says, pinning my hands above my head. His gaze travels to my breasts, and his lips part. “I love every inch of you.” His head lowers, and his hot breath exhales against my breast before he pulls my nipple between his teeth and sucks hard enough that I arch my back.

  He kisses my lips again, and then looks into my eyes with an emotion that makes my heart ache. I reach up and run my fingers through his stubble, holding both cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m so fucking happy,” he says, so earnestly that my eyes tear up. “My entire life, I loved a girl who was never mine to love.”

  I swallow my breath, ready to cry. He still loves Tori, and I’ll never replace her. No one will. I finally manage to say, “But I’m not her, and you’ll never feel that way about me. I get it.”

  His eyebrows pinch together. “No. You’re not her. You’re you, and you’re perfect. My love for you is so much stronger than it ever was for Tori. The reasons why she never reciprocated my feelings for her and never loved me like I wanted her to are clear to me now. My heart was waiting for you. It’s yours with all I have to give.”

  A powerful wave of emotion ripples through me, a combination of love and lust. “Make love to me,” are the only words I can say. Anything else is going to turn me into a blubbering, sobbing mess, and I don’t want to ruin the passion behind this moment.

  I lock my feet together behind his hips and dig my fingernails into his shoulders. His cock slips slowly inside me, and I lift my hips from the bed, pulling him deeper. He groans into my neck and stills. I wiggle, the ache deep inside taking charge and seeking relief.

  “I’m going to make love to you very slowly, sweet girl.”

  His promise heats my skin from head to toe. Tug and I have never done anything slowly, especially sex. Our passionate moments together are usually driven by an unsustainable hunger that turns into a quick race to the finish before a marathon night of fast, hard fucking ensues. As he moves slowly in a steady and tranquil rhythm, my body responds emotionally. This is expression without words, and the love I feel for him consumes me and drags me under. For the first time in my life, I feel content.

  I feel beautiful.

  And I feel complete.

  I wake in a dreamy fog to the sound of the alarm on my cell phone. My limbs throb as I stretch, tired and sore. Every muscle aches and I smile, remembering yesterday. There isn’t an inch of this suite Tug and I didn’t christen. I roll to my side to nuzzle against him, but the bed is empty.

  After slipping into a plush hotel robe, I go out to the patio, where Tug is sitting at the table. His hair is always styled a little rumpled and messy, but this morning it’s unruly. He’s in his boxers, with his phone to his ear. Whoever is on the other end is doing most of the talking. Although I’m mildly sore from last night, the smile he gives me instantly heats my arousal. I stroll over to him and climb onto his lap, resting my cheek on his shoulder. His free hand slips under my robe and glides up my bare back, causing me to shiver.

  The air is crisp, and smells of salt and something sweet, like baked waffle cone. My stomach rumbles, and I hear Tug chuckle before he nudges me from his lap and points at the food on the table. My mouth waters as I create a stack of waffles and cover them in whipped cream, syrup, and strawberries. Tug watches me with a look of amusement. It’s a towering stack, but I’m starving.

  He points to a bottle of pain reliever on the table. I smile at his thoughtfulness and open the bottle, dropping two pills in my hand. The water tastes amazing as I swallow down the two pills and guzzle until it’s gone, earning me another deep chuckle from Tug.

  As I devour the mountain of waffles, I listen to a lot of uh-hu’s, and yes’s, and I understand’s from Tug. I offer Tug a strawberry, which he smiles and accepts.

  I finish my breakfast and Tug apologizes for still being on the phone, which isn’t necessary. He has a business to run, and I’ve taken a lot of his time the last few days. I kiss his cheek and head inside for a shower.

  There’s nothing that can be said to describe the feeling of standing over a box that contains a loved one you’ll never see again, a person who your life revolved around. My papa was the one constant in my life. My heart doesn’t contain memories he’s not in, from the tickle-fest as a small child, to his strong arms holding me at Mama’s funeral, to a stubborn fool that argued with me about moments he’d forgotten—he’s always been in my life. He was a treasure, and I miss him terribly. I wish I could see his face, touch him, hold him, and tell him I love him, but there’s a barrier, and it’s not just the wooden lid of the casket — it’s the dark reality of death. The greatest obstacle for anyone to express their feelings is when that very person is no longer here to listen. As a tear trickles down my skin and splashes onto the deep wooden casket, I vow to never again suppress my feelings or pretend they don’t exist. Javier and Tug and anyone who comes into my life that I care about will hear how much they mean to me.

  Tug slips his arms around my waist from behind. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  I turn in his embrace, running my fingertips through the light brown stubble that always shadows his face. “I love you.”

  “Hmm … I love you, too, but I asked for your thoughts.”

  “How much I love you is what I was thinking, and I promise that every day I’m going to say it and make you feel how strong my love is.”

  He blinks and then holds his eyes closed. His lips press against mine, and he speaks against my mouth. “I promise to do the same.”

  The arrival of the priest interrupts us.

  Although I didn’t feel a service was warranted for only the two of us, Tug insisted on it. As the priest recites a prayer and speaks kindly of Papa, I’m grateful he did. It
offers closure for me and a proper burial for Papa, who’d been a religious man. Religion was something we had argued about often. I could never connect with a God who could take so much from me and allow me to experience such struggle and heartache. Papa’s response was always that my experiences provided me with God’s greatest gift. I never won the argument, because I could never refute Javier’s presence in my life and what it meant to me to be a mother. In times of despair, God’s gift was my greatest salvation, and who could argue with that?

  Maria’s knee bounces throughout the plane ride to Monterrey. There’s a part of her that isn’t able to trust we aren’t headed directly to our deaths. I can’t even convince her that sex thirty thousand feet in the air will ease her concerns.

  When we arrive at the gate in front of Torrente’s mansion, it opens immediately without my pressing the button. I park in front of the front doors and turn off the ignition. Maria gets out before I have the chance to give her one last talk to ease her nerves. I walk around the front of the car and take her hand. Her eyes dart every which way, her body completely stiff. “Relax. I promise you, you’re safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

  We’re greeted at the door by Marco, the man who escorted me to the house in a golf cart on my first visit. He accompanies me and Maria into the sitting room and tells us Mr. Torrente will be right with us and we’re welcome to fix ourselves a drink. We both decline.

  Maria wears holes in the Persian rug, pacing, and I know the only way she’ll be okay is for Torrente himself to reassure her. He enters the room, his gaze locking on Maria and holding it for several seconds. He swallows hard and steps closer to us.

  “Mr. Hunter, it’s good to see you again.” He shakes my hand, but his eyes are on Maria the entire time. “You must be Maria.”