by S Williams
“You’re a freak,” he rasps on my mouth, warm breath trickling over my damp skin. “You’ve always wanted to try something with a woman. It was a fantasy, I could tell. That’s why you didn’t fight back.”
“I didn’t fight back because you threatened me,” I laugh.
“No, niñita.” His chuckle is deep, sensual. “If I’m recalling that day correctly, you spread those legs good and wide for her and you moaned even louder when I forced her deeper. You couldn’t control yourself. And, fuck, seeing you like that made me so goddamn hard. Seeing how wet your pussy was—feeling it after she was finished . . . shit.” He swallows hard, and I can feel him growing harder, his cock pressing on my leg. “I may have spoken, but I had no real words to say to you at the time. You’re a naughty girl, but you play innocent. Every time we fuck, you reveal a glimpse of that naughty side. Every time my cock is buried deep inside you, I’m shedding a layer of that innocence away, exposing you for what you really are. A freak. And not just any freak. My freak.”
My breath goes unkempt as I feel his fingers slowly rolling my bottoms down. His mouth is still hovering over mine, only a hairs breadth away. I want to move, thrust or grind, but I can’t. I won’t make the first move.
But I do want him to kiss me. I want him to take me—fuck me in this pool relentlessly. I don’t care who hears or sees. I don’t care as long as I get the pleasure I’m aching for.
I don’t know why I want him so badly right now. It has to be the tequila. Only tequila gets me this way, desperate and hungry for more.
“Just say the words,” he murmurs, still peeling my bottoms off. “All you have to do is say it, mi reina, and it’s yours. Tell Jefe what you really want.”
I know exactly what he wants me to say. He knows how badly I want it.
“Jefe,” I pant, threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Fuck me. Please. Right here. Por favor, Jefe.” Please, Jefe.
He lets out a low, quiet groan, my words his undoing. My bottoms are off in seconds, as well as his. We both release hard, heavy moans when our mouths finally connect, and when I feel his thickness thrust inside me, I pull my mouth away, gasping as my head falls back.
He grips the back of my neck with one hand, forcing me against the wall of the pool. His other hand is cupping my ass, his thrusts full and deep as he stares me right in the eyes—as he takes me like the boss he is.
The Jefe.
The one and only Jefe.
He doesn’t pull his eyes away for a second. He holds me tight on my ass and neck, watching as I willingly welcome it all, sighing with pleasure.
Bring his face closer, his tongue pushes through my lips, claiming, owning. I swirl mine with his, gluing our bodies, holding onto him as I feel the heat between my legs, building up for one momentous explosion.
“You are my freak,” he breathes into my mouth. “And it will be that way for a very, very long time, Gianna.”
I nod as the water sloshes and he brings his hands down, bouncing me up and down on his thick, long cock. I hold on tight, my mouth landing on his neck, sucking, tasting hints of chlorine and warm skin.
I’m wrapped up so tight around him, feeling my clit on his pelvis, so close to climaxing. He squeezes my ass harder in his big hands, bringing me up and down. I spot people walking from a distance, the guards at the wall. I don’t know if they’re watching and, frankly, I don’t give a shit. Neither does he.
All we care about is this.
The escape. The thrill.
Me owning him.
Him owning me.
My fingers slide through his damp hair, dragging down to his back, nails digging in. He lets out a small hiss, bringing me to the wall again, elbows planting outside my head. He’s still thrusting, my head falling back over the edge of the pool.
I open my eyes, staring up at the sky. It’s not completely dark. It’s the perfect violet color. The sun is somewhere close, but I can’t see it at this angle. And that’s okay because stars begin to fill my vision, tunneling in.
I imagine a violin playing. I imagine piercing blue eyes staring into brown ones.
Toni and Draco. A demon versus the devil.
Fighting for me.
I imagine what was and what is and, carelessly, I explode.
I squeeze my eyes so tight, holding on to him again, grinding on his hardness—on him—and I don’t let up, not even when I feel my body violently shaking.
Trembling.
My eyes feel damp, but I think it’s the pool water.
But it’s too hot to be pool water. Too hot.
My body feels just as heated.
Whimpers surround me. Darkness consumes me.
“Gianna,” a deep voice calls. It echoes in my brain, through every hollow, empty space.
I’m still trembling, but is it from the aftermath, or something else?
I can’t tell—that is until I hear water sloshing and realize Draco is carrying me out of the pool and my back has landed on a cushioned lounge chair. I look all around me, at the sky that’s still a silky purple, to the chair beside me, and then in front of me, at Draco.
His face is hard, as usual, but his eyes hold a trace of gentleness. He looks me all over before inhaling, then exhaling. His fingers thread through his damp hair, body going tense.
“What were you thinking about when you came?” he asks, voice low.
“I came?” I whisper.
“Yes. I felt you. Saw you.”
I pull my gaze away, looking out at the ocean through the thick, wrought iron gate. “I can’t remember.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He reaches forward, gripping my face in hand and forcing my eyes on his again. “Tell me.”
My lips quiver, eyes sliding down to his chest. “It was . . . Toni.”
He snatches his hand away and when I look up, he’s glaring. Hard. “What about him?”
“Not the good part of him. The bad. I was thinking about him and you. Comparing. You’re both . . . so brutal. So bad. And that’s what I’m drawn to. Like a magnet, I’m drawn and I can’t pull away, no matter how hard I try. It’s so fucking hard to fight it.” My head shakes swiftly. “There were many times when I saw Toni’s bad side, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt because that’s how badly I wanted him. And you,” I breathe, sitting forward. My head moves left to right as I become lost for words. “You are ten times worse than he was and yet . . . still . . . there is something about you I can’t pull away from. Despite the bad and all I’ve been through here, something about you lures me in. Dominance, brutality— it’s what I crave. It’s something I’ve craved my entire life.” My breath comes out shaky. “He killed both of our fathers, and if he was still here, and I knew that, I feel like I would still stay with him. I would have found a reason to forgive him, even the tiniest excuse, because I was that weak for him.” I tilt my gaze. “Does that make me stupid? Being weak for men like that?”
“Gianna, I—” I can tell he is confused. And I don’t blame him. Where is all of this coming from? What’s happening to me? I’m confusing myself. I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing anymore. Does he sense that? “No, it doesn’t make you stupid,” he finally responds. He hauls me over and plants me on his lap to face him. I wrap my legs around him and he grips the back of my head, bringing my forehead to his. “It makes you a Nicotera. Nicoteras are fearless and believe they can take on anything and anyone. They enjoy the challenge. You are fearless.” He strokes his thumb over my cheek, and that’s when I realize there are tears. Those were tears on my face while we were in the pool.
“You’re crying out of anger. You hate that he did it, I know. You’re trying to drown it out with the tequila, but it won’t work. The truth will always be there. You wanted to see the good in him, but he was no good for you.” I watch his eyes, how they soften for me when he speaks. “It had to happen that way. It is unfortunate, but I don’t regret anything except the fact that I wasn’t there to save your father myself. Had
I known it was you he was marrying, I would have cut that shit off before you even fell for him.”
“I thought it was going to be a perfect day. One I would never forget,” I whisper, voice cracking.
“You will get plenty of perfect days with me, you understand?” He grips me tighter. “I will give you the world, Gianna, because you are mine, and you always have been. You just didn’t know it yet.”
I bob my head, silence consuming me for several seconds. “I’m sorry he did that to your dad.”
“Don’t stress about it.”
“If I knew his plans I never would have agreed to marry him.” Anger laces my voice now, just thinking of all the times he probably sat around, plotting ways to kill Daddy.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t have. But it happened. It’s done. All we have is us and now. There is a target on both of our backs, so we might as well fucking live, niñita, hmm?” His mouth touches my cheek, a soft, damp kiss as he tips my chin. “You hear me?”
I nod, locking eyes with him. “Yes, Draco. I hear you.” I put on a subtle smile. “We live.”
13
Whatever this is between Draco and me has been hard to deny. A part of me still doesn’t trust him, yet another part of me—a dark, secret ounce of me—longs for every inch of him.
I want to avoid that part of me, sinking too deep and falling for him. It will be just like how I fell for Toni. A man I thought I knew, but hardly knew anything about at all.
There’s a lot about Draco that I still don’t know.
I want to question why Draco leaves during the middle of the day and returns a little more frustrated than when he left. When he’s locked himself away in his galería, I want to know what he’s painting. Is it another photo of blood? A massacre? None of his paintings are gentle on the eyes. All of them, I’ve noticed, are filled with colors of red, black, and other dark, ominous hues.
Four days have passed, and we’ve still continued to fuck and taunt and tease. He seems to enjoy that. And I know as long as I give myself to him, then I can get whatever I want. Just yesterday, he had Patanza deliver a typewriter to the library for me. To my surprise, it came in the color red. Daddy’s favorite color. I can’t help but wonder if he knew that small fact or if he got it in red by chance.
I started typing on it the same day it was given to me, half-watching, half-typing as the sun fell and kissed the horizon. At dinner, I thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. He wanted to smile, I could tell, but he didn’t. He held on to his cold, hard look, digging right into his meal. As he chewed and Mrs. Molina started speaking, I spotted the faint smirk tugging at his lips though.
He couldn’t fool me.
When I wake up today, he isn’t in bed. I gaze around the bedroom, sighing as I stare at the ceiling fan whirling rapidly. It’s hot today. Even with the fan on, I can feel my hair sticking to the nape of my neck.
Why the hell isn’t the A/C on?
I push out of bed, walking to the window. The sun is high in the sky. It seems much closer today, blazing down on everything it can touch.
Turning toward the bathroom, I start up the shower, making sure it’s colder than my average temperature. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not usually this hot in here.
Once finished, I get dressed in a black tank top and khaki shorts, slip my feet into a pair of black leather flip flops, and march out the door. Patanza is standing on the other side of the door and when she spots me, she turns fully. Sweat is misting her forehead, her cleavage, and the skin she has revealed at her belly. Her hair is in a ponytail, the ends damp with sweat.
“What’s going on with the air?” I ask, peering down the hallway when I hear noises.
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “Jefe called someone in to fix it. This house is old. Stupid thing always goes out around this time of year.” She swipes her neck with the towel she normally carries in her back pocket.
“Damn.” I slide my fingertips into my back pockets. “Well, are we doing breakfast today?”
“I doubt it. He’s not even here.”
“Where did he go?”
“To town with Thiago.” When she says that her face pinches a little, as if she disapproves.
“You don’t like him,” I state, and she picks up her gaze.
“Can’t stand him,” she mutters.
“Why?”
Her upper lip spasms, almost in a near snarl. When she doesn’t speak, I sense it’s because of something personal. “Come on.” She twists around. “We can still have the chef cook whatever you want. I’m sure Jefe will be back soon. He doesn’t like to be off the property for too long.”
I follow after her, but I can’t help feeling that it’s something deeper than she’s letting off. Her body is tense, and she’s purposely avoiding my gaze. I won’t touch on it though. I know she isn’t going to tell. She hurries down the stairs, her hand on her gun when she meets at the bottom.
To our left, I see a few men in navy work uniforms coming in and out of the front door. They are all sweaty, sunburnt, and speaking rapidly in Spanish as they march in and out with tools.
We make our way to the kitchen, where there are three butlers fanning themselves and standing in front of a round fan. A heavyset man named Eduardo stands at the counter, whipping something in a bowl. The house chef. He’s glistening like a greased pig, patches of sweat seeping through his white jacket. The hat he usually wears is off, his black hair damp.
I’ve come to know he’s a good man. Though Draco didn’t want me talking to anyone, I still made my rounds. He wanted me to be comfortable here. I had to know these people, or at least speak to them as often as I could.
The maids are sweet, but none of them have families. All of them, the butlers as well, live in homes less than a mile away from here. They stay in an apartment building that was paid for years ago by Draco himself, just so they could stay close to the property, and so his guards could keep watch of them.
They don’t butt in much. They also don’t speak unless spoken to. Whenever they see me, they stand tall, slightly bowing their heads at me as if I’m royalty.
Like now. All three butlers spot me walking into the kitchen, and they perk up almost instantly, uneasy smiles spreading across their faces.
I return a small one, walking toward Eduardo. “Good morning, Eduardo.”
He glances over at me. There is something about Eduardo that I find comforting. He’s the only one around who isn’t afraid to speak to me. He says what he wants, and is, indeed, a true shit talker that makes amazing food.
“Good morning, Patrona!” he yells cheerfully in his native tongue, placing his bowl down. “What the hell are you doing in my kitchen? You know Jefe doesn’t like you in here.” He plants a hand on his hip, using the back of his other to wipe the beads of sweat away from his forehead and cheek.
I laugh. “Who cares what Jefe says? What are you making?”
“Baking a cake,” he sighs. “Too damn hot in this fucking house to bake, but it’s for Mrs. Molina’s birthday. That woman deserves ten-thousand cakes, no matter the temperature of the house.”
My eyebrows rise. “It’s her birthday today?”
“Yes.” He bobs his head, grinning. “I will be making her favorite meal for dinner tonight. Jefe wants everything to be in order for her. We have a busy night.”
I glance over at Patanza. “Why didn’t he tell me it was her birthday?” I ask in English.
She presses her lips, glances between the butlers, and then flicks her fingers, gesturing for me to come her way. My eyebrows stitch and I join her in the secluded corner she stopped at. “She doesn’t like to celebrate it.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Molina used to take her to Spain every year for her birthday. They would party like college students and they’d come back happier than ever, from what I’ve heard. Her birthdays remind her of him. She says they will never be able to compare to that again.”
“Oh.” Damn. I look back at Eduardo, w
atching as he pours the chocolate batter into a cake pan. “Well, then, maybe we should make the night a good one for her. Make it great. She deserves that, right?”
“Jefe usually takes care of the birthday plans.”
“Well, he isn’t here, is he? How is he supposed to take care of anything if he’s out running around all the time?”
She fixes her mouth like she wants to say something, but clamps it shut in an instant.
“No.” I smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What were you going to say?”
She fights a smile, glancing at the butlers who are finding little things to pick up and clean to occupy themselves. When she brings her eyes on me again, she says, “I was going to say his parties for her are kind of lame.”
I snort. “He’s too uptight to plan a party. I used to do it all the time for my parents and a few of their friends. Come on.” I grab her wrist and start for the exit of the kitchen. “We’ll figure something out for her.”
“I really shouldn’t, Patrona,” she says, hesitant as I string her along. “He doesn’t like for us to mess up his plans.”
“He won’t blame you for anything, Patanza. I’m sure he’d like for us to take this burden off his shoulders, though he’ll probably never admit it. He seems to be dealing with a lot right now anyway.”
“He always is,” she scoffs.
I let go of her wrist when we’re in the empty dining room. I’m hesitant to ask my next question. I haven’t asked anything so daring in a long time. “Do you think he’d let me go to the city? For a gift?”
Her eyebrows shoot up like I’ve just asked for access to the devil’s deepest, darkest secrets. Her hands lift up and she waves them rapidly. “No, no, no, no, no. Hell no!”
“What?” I frown. “Why not? It’s just for a gift. You guys can follow me like you do here. It would only be for an hour tops.”
“You’re asking the wrong bitch, Jefa. If I even try to answer that he’ll have my head. That is his number one rule.”
“What is?” I ask, aggravated now.
