by Eva Charles
Antonio groans and pulls away, tugging off his jacket and tossing it aside. His tie is next, and a few shirt buttons are freed, then his full attention is back on me.
“Get on your knees,” he murmurs. There’s something depraved about him—something sinful.
I freeze, lost in his face. Except for my panties and my shoes, I’m naked. The necklace and earrings are merely adornments that cover nothing.
“Have you ever had a cock in this sassy little mouth?” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, pinching lightly before he drops his hand.
Oh God.
“Have you?”
His voice is gentle, and it calms me. Although I’m still a bit embarrassed.
I nod. “But I’m not—I don’t have a lot of…experience. Hardly any at all.”
“Get on your knees,” he repeats softly. “Use me to steady yourself.”
I do as he demands. Clutching first his arms, then his muscular thighs to lower myself to the rug. It’s not easy in high heels, but I manage without falling on my butt.
When I’m on my knees, I peek up at him. He’s beautiful as he looks down at me with unfettered lust whirling in his eyes.
“Take out my cock,” he instructs, his tenor seductively smooth.
My hands tremble as I tug at the hooks at his waist and wrestle with the zipper. He doesn’t utter a word. He doesn’t move a muscle. He just lets me fumble my way through, learning as I go.
After long moments, his cock is free—inches from my face.
I take a breath, and I stare—probably for too long. But he lets me look, not saying anything to embarrass me.
His cock is long and thick, the skin pulled taut, smooth and shiny, with a bead of precum on the crown. This time I’m not afraid to lean over and lick it.
He grunts softly as my tongue glides over the head, lapping the milky pearl until it disappears.
When I’m through, Antonio threads one hand into my hair and takes his cock in the other. He slides the crown across my lips until they part for him.
“Use your hands,” he instructs in a tight voice. “Your mouth, your lips, your tongue. Suck my cock. Swallow me into your throat.”
I shiver, opening my mouth wide and letting my jaw go slack as I explore his cock and balls.
For several minutes, with his hands fisted tightly at his side, he lets me set the pace. He lets me learn him—the ridges and edges, the dips and valleys. But when I take him deeper into my mouth, his hands find my hair and tighten slowly around my scalp. His hips cant forward as he feeds me more of his cock.
“For years I’ve fantasized about your sweet little mouth around my cock. I’ve jacked off more times than I can count thinking about it.”
His words imbue me with a heady sense of power, and my jaw relaxes, welcoming more of him inside.
“Princesa,” he gasps, thrusting deeper and harder. “Your mouth is heaven.”
Soon I can’t keep up with his movements, and I gag when he hits the back of my throat.
He pulls out—to the tip—and gives me several seconds to catch my breath.
“Breathe,” he commands, pushing his cock deep. “Swallow. Yes, that’s it.”
I gag, again and again. Tears spill onto my cheeks.
Antonio pulls me from the floor, pressing his mouth to mine, until I can’t breathe. “Sit at the edge of the bed,” he says, removing his clothes. “Wait quietly for me.”
I don’t question him. I just do it, because right now, I’d do anything to have his hands and mouth on me.
He strides toward me, naked, his cock hard and proud. Pushing my thighs apart, he lowers his mouth to mine in a long, sensuous coupling that makes my toes curl. Before I’m ready for it to end, he drops his head and sucks a rosy nipple into his mouth. I gasp at the sensation—at the way my pussy throbs as he plays with my breasts. He lifts his head and lavishes all his attention on the other tight furl until I’m squirming with need.
I pant softly as he removes my shoes, one at a time, and then my thong. Antonio’s eyes never leave mine as he takes everything but my jewelry—and even when the need to shy away starts to overwhelm me, I don’t surrender to it.
When he’s through, he slides a pointed tongue down my seam, grazing my clit. I cling to the bedcovers, taking handfuls of the soft fabric and gripping tight.
“Princesa, you’re so wet. Did you enjoy sucking my cock? Did you like choking on my big dick?”
Yes. And I need more. I wriggle closer.
Antonio stands and flips me onto my stomach. “On your hands and knees,” he commands. “I want that gorgeous ass in the air.”
Before I can think too much about it, he spreads my legs, licking my pussy from back to front until the pleasure is coiled tight.
“Please,” I beg. Although I’m not sure what I want most from him.
His tongue circles my most private place, licking the tiny rosebud. I squeeze my eyes shut and tense my sphincter as a wave of shame and fear swells, almost ruining my pleasure.
Without warning, Antonio sinks his teeth into my ass. It comes as a surprise, and I yelp loudly.
“You’re mine,” he chides. “No part of you is off-limits to me. Do not tighten your muscles to keep me out.”
My emotions are all over the place. I’m aroused—maybe more than I’ve ever been, maybe more than I can take.
“Shhh,” he whispers, as though he can hear the voices in my head. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
He’s behind me, nudging my legs farther apart, his fingers dipping into my wet flesh and swirling around my clit without ever touching it.
I’m out of my mind when I feel his cock at my entrance, and my walls relax to let him in.
A long, low groan escapes from my chest as he fills me. He feels enormous as my body stretches to accommodate him.
“This pussy is going to be my downfall,” he mutters in a tortured breath, stilling inside me while I get used to him. When he begins to move, the zings of pleasure are heavenly. I arch my back and buck into him. He grips my hips and slides, in and out, long and hard.
I want more.
More. More. More. It’s all I think about until he reaches around me and holds my throat in his large hand. My breath catches as his fingertips tighten.
Antonio leans forward and drops a small kiss on my ear. “Are you afraid?” he asks, like he hopes I’ll say yes.
“No,” I gasp. Although I am a little afraid. “Are you going to hurt me?”
He pulls his cock all the way out, then fills me with a long, brutal thrust. “Definitely,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “But not tonight.”
His free hand skates over my back and around to my belly, moving lower and lower until his fingers are stroking my clit.
“You’ve been such a good girl I think you need a reward.” He moves his fingers in quick, clever ways, his cock unrelenting. “You’re going to come nice and hard all over my dick.”
Antonio’s hand tightens around my throat, and I gasp for air as he pounds me with long, punishing strokes until my body tightens and bucks as the orgasm consumes me.
“Princesa,” he groans, in a prayer. “Princesa.”
His movements are jerky, desperate, and with a few agonizing thrusts, I feel the rumble of his release.
Antonio presses a kiss to the back of my neck and pulls out of me. I collapse on the bed, shivering. He gets up and returns with a soft blanket, draping it over my body.
“Do you need anything?” he asks, lying beside me and brushing the hair off my sweaty face.
“Stay with me,” I say, even though I’m in his bed. “Don’t leave tonight.”
“Sleep, Princesa. I’m here.” He brushes his lips over my forehead. “You’re safe.”
68
Daniela
When I awoke on Sunday, Antonio was gone without a goodbye. Not even a scribbled note or a hasty text. Nothing. It hurt, but as I reminded myself the entire day, it’s just sex to him. The sooner I get comfortable wi
th the idea of just sex, the happier I’ll be.
I haven’t seen or spoken with him since. We’ve texted a few words here and there, mostly about wedding details. That’s it.
He’s been staying in the city, and Victor says he’s swamped, trying to take care of business before we leave on our trip. Sometimes I wonder if he’ll continue to spend nights in the city without me, after we’re married. I shouldn’t care, but I do. I care about all of it.
“I have something to show you,” Nelia says, reaching into a tote bag that says, I Make Dreams Come True.
Nelia, the wedding planner Antonio hired, and I have been in the library for the last two hours, reviewing last-minute preparations. The wedding is less than two days away. Thirty-nine hours, to be precise.
At first, I had no interest in planning the ceremony or the reception. But after the Camellia Ball, it hit me that most of the wedding guests would be people who knew my parents, some who knew my grandparents. If for no other reason, I got involved to ensure that the wedding wasn’t some gaudy show.
Nelia hands me a small mesh bag with a few candied almonds. “It would be a nice touch to hand everyone a favor as they leave the church. All the extra security means lunch might be a bit delayed. Your guests will enjoy a little something to snack on if they missed breakfast. Since it’s spring, this seems perfect.”
I glance at the pastel nuts peeking through the white gauzy sacks. The cost of this wedding is starting to feel staggering. “Have you checked with Antonio?”
“Whenever I ask Antonio anything about the wedding, he tells me it’s up to you.”
I’m not surprised. Since my initial contact with Nelia, which went smoothly, he seems to defer to me on all things wedding related. Although the venue and the guest list were in place before I got involved.
The small affair includes three hundred guests. I was free to add to the list. But I didn’t.
The ceremony will take place at Santa Ana’s, and a luncheon will follow here, at his estate. Antonio put together a guest list that includes the mayor of Porto and the owners of all the port houses and their spouses, along with those who own the most prominent vineyards in the valley. People he does business with. Other than Sonia, relatives and friends are in very short supply.
But I suppose the guests reflect the occasion. After all, our marriage is nothing more than the sealing of a business deal, uniting a well-established port house and important vineyards.
“Can I keep this?” I ask Nelia as she’s packing up to leave. I’ll give it to Valentina when I tell her about the wedding. I don’t want her to think I kept it from her, but I also don’t want her to know that I was forced into the marriage. I haven’t settled on how I’m going to approach it with her.
“Of course. I was planning on keeping a few aside for you. The day goes so quickly”—she snaps her fingers—“and it’s gone. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
At the door, I place a kiss on each cheek before pulling her in for a warm hug. “In case it gets too crazy on Saturday and I forget, I want to say thank you for everything. You’ve been wonderful.” She has been. In addition to pulling this off in little more than two weeks’ time, Nelia knows that marriages like mine and Antonio’s are arranged for convenience—and not the bride’s. She’s been incredibly supportive without ever mentioning a word about it.
“You’ve been a delight to work with. Saturday is going to be perfect. I promise.”
It’s almost nine, and after I say goodbye, I go up to my suite to shower.
Paula is coming out of the bedroom when I arrive. Our relationship is almost back to normal after my escape. I apologized for pulling her into the ruse, and at first she seemed a little nervous around me, but things are better. Her face lit up when I invited her to accompany me to the church the morning of the wedding. She agreed immediately.
“Paula, it’s late. You don’t have to turn down the bed every night, especially on nights like this when it starts to get late. I’m not helpless.”
She smiles. “I left something on your bed. It’s from Senhor Antonio.”
God help me.
“It’s a wedding gift,” she adds with a small giggle.
It’s so charming that I laugh too. “Thank you, and good night.”
“Good night,” she says, shutting the door behind her.
A gift from Antonio? That could mean anything. He’s a complicated man.
I stop in the bedroom doorway, gaping at the leather case on the bed. It’s similar to the one he left in my closet, perhaps slightly larger. The one with the toys.
Maybe he’s not so complicated.
This case also has a gold lock, but unlike last time, the key is in the lock.
When I see him, I’m going to murder him with my bare hands for giving this to the staff to deliver.
I’m tempted to toss it out the window. But I’m also curious. In truth, the toys have been—amazing.
I sit on the bed and stare at the case for several minutes. Just open it. You know you want to see what’s inside.
When my curiosity doesn’t subside, I turn the tiny key. I hesitate before lifting the lid, because each time he gives me something, I’m newly reminded that this is a sham marriage, and our vows will be sealed not with love, but with kinky sex. It hurts my soul every time.
I glance at my engagement ring. Now that the word is out about our engagement, everyone will expect you to have a ring. That ring comes with a promise to take care of you and keep you safe, at any cost.
I sigh and pull back the lid.
Time disappears as I stare into the case, taking it all in, one section at a time.
When I can breathe again, I lift a charm bracelet off the velvet lining. It was my mother’s. Each charm represents something significant in my life. “It doesn’t matter where I am. When I look at my wrist, all I can think about is you.” I hold it for several minutes before putting it back. My fingertips gently caress the small gold cross my parents gave me on the day of my First Communion. I was so proud that day.
I can’t take my eyes off the case. Every piece of jewelry, every single one, mine and my mother’s, that I sold to survive, is in this case.
The tears fall in a deluge.
I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m thrilled to have the jewelry back, especially my mother’s pieces. But I’m also stunned. It’s as though the boat has capsized, and I’m adrift in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by a dense fog.
My emotions are twisted, tied in knots so tight they’ll never be disentangled. I don’t know what to feel. Or even how I should feel. I’m a mess, and I can’t seem to find my out.
I hate myself for not hating him. That’s the bottom line. The one I’ve been loath to admit. I hate that he controls my mother’s vineyards. I hate that he’s forcing me to marry him. And more than anything, I hate that he’s separated me from Isabel and Valentina. But I don’t hate him. And I never have.
The light on my phone screen catches my eye. It’s a text from Nelia, something about flowers.
I should call him. It’s the polite thing to do.
Before I lose my nerve, I place the call.
“Princesa,” he murmurs. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “My mother’s jewelry is one of the few things I have left of her. I can’t tell you how much it hurt me to sell it.”
“I can’t take credit. It was Cristiano’s idea to buy the pieces back as you sold them.”
“But you agreed. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have happened.”
He doesn’t respond.
“This means so much to me.”
“It’s not the only things you have left of your mother. Now that everyone knows you’re back, after the wedding Cristiano will take you to your parents’ house. Alma packed away anything of value. We did some upkeep of the property, but most everything is as you left it.”
“I’m having a hard time understanding you,” I say, fighting back a sob.
“Every time I think I have you figured out, you do something that surprises me.”
“Don’t spend too much time trying to understand me,” he murmurs into the silence. “You won’t like the answers you find. I told you once that I was everything you thought, maybe worse. That hasn’t changed. You’re marrying me because I’ve given you no choice. Don’t be wooed by a box of trinkets and a trip to visit Isabel. You’re smarter than that.”
I’m not sure I am.
69
Antonio
From the anteroom, I gaze out into the church. White flowers and satin ribbon grace the altar and every pew. The greenery adds some warmth to the vast stone structure.
Guests are beginning to arrive, and the security we have in place to protect them melds seamlessly into the fabric of the ancient church.
Rafael, Cristiano, and Lucas are attending to last-minute details, and I’m happy to have a few minutes alone to digest the weight of the moment. I’ve been busy the past week, putting out small fires as the concerns of the individual port houses bubbled to the surface.
Daniela returning on my arm sent a seismic surge through the valley, just as I expected.
I haven’t had a minute to think about—to really think about—what this marriage will mean for me, not from a business perspective, but personally.
My life is about to change in ways that I don’t pretend to fully understand. Only a fool would believe that everything will remain the same.
I always knew I’d eventually marry—fulfilling my duty to produce a legitimate heir. But I expected to feel more hesitant, some wistfulness or regret when the time came. While I don’t love Daniela, I have no regrets.
There’s something about her—something beyond her beauty and my carnal attraction to her—something that calls to my better angels.
“Antonio.” My mother.
I had zero success in getting her to stay away. As did Edward and Samantha, although I’m not convinced Samantha tried very hard, because she insisted on coming, too, much to her husband’s dismay. William understands the threat better than most.
