by Tina Donahue
They panted like dogs. The noise blocked some of the haunting music that played, the singer’s Spanish words sounding mournful. Lauren had never felt as pooped or as happy, so deliciously sated. Her cunt quivered around Dante’s cock, proving what he’d done to her. The room smelled of their mingled fragrances and sex, the best scent of all.
He bent down and cradled her breasts. “You okay?”
His breath skimmed her back, warming it further. She wiggled her body into his. “Oh yeah. You?”
“Hmm.” He suckled her shoulder until a yawn interrupted him. Finished, he rubbed his face against her back and sighed, “Let’s get comfortable.”
Lauren smiled. “I already am. Go ahead and lean on me. Fall asleep.” Just don’t pull out. She didn’t want to lose their closeness.
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I’ll crush you.”
“No way. I’m sturdy.”
“Sure.” On another yawn, he pulled out of her and stumbled back.
“Careful,” she warned, reaching for him.
“I’m okay.” He righted himself and pulled off the rubber, dropping it in the wastebasket.
His hair looked awesome, tangled from their play. His body was magnificent, muscular and lean, so toned Lauren could count his abs. Other than his amazing side tat of a bird in flight, his pecs, torso and narrow hips were nothing but sleek, bronze skin. No tan marks from trunks or board shorts. Lauren wondered where he was able to swim in the nude. He was obviously an athletic man in perfect condition. Unbelievably gorgeous.
Lauren sagged against the chair weakened even more by his male beauty. Beneath his hard belly, a stream of dark hair trickled to the thick thatch of curls on his groin. Prominent veins snaked up his cock that was still semi-hard, the crown a plump mouthful, its color ruddy. Short, dark hairs dusted his pendulous balls, thighs and calves. His legs were long and sinewy. Hell, even his large feet were great-looking.
He padded back to the chair, climbed on and sagged down. Smiling, Lauren ran her fingertips up his thigh. His leg trembled. He pulled it away and reached for her. “Get up here.”
She didn’t. Couldn’t. Before he’d climbed on the chair, it had looked fairly big. Now, it seemed unbelievably narrow. “There’s not room enough for both of us.”
“Sure there is.” He turned to face her then scooted back until his ass and shoulder hit the wall. Patting the padded top, he ordered, “Hop on.”
Lauren prayed the thing wouldn’t collapse with her added weight. As gracefully as possible, she settled next to Dante, facing him. Close enough for his body heat to warm her, his breath to glance over her lips. With a blissful look in his eyes, he smiled then kissed her. Gently, this time. Tender and searching.
Her defenses crumbled, leaving her soul naked and yearning. She opened up to him, giving her all, powerless against what was happening, which was so damn reckless for her heart. Lauren knew she should have stopped wanting him, but couldn’t.
They kissed for a long time that seemed far too short to her. Dante brushed his lips over her throat then scooted down and licked her areola. She sighed at his tongue’s wet heat. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled lightly. To her it seemed he wasn’t trying to arouse, but to comfort them both.
Her lids grew heavy. She stifled a yawn. Dante grunted and sighed, the noises he made sounding content.
Time seemed to stop then drift. Lauren wasn’t aware they’d fallen asleep until beating drums and the shriek of trumpets awakened her, the music sounding way too peppy and loud. Dante’s upper lip fluttered with his soft snore, his breath grazing her breast. Smiling, Lauren combed his hair with her fingers.
He stirred then glanced up, frowning, she guessed, at the intrusive music.
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” she pleaded, “or I might land on the floor.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, her cunt to his cock. With his forehead to hers, he whispered, “Not gonna happen. I have you.”
For now. What about tomorrow and all the days beyond that?
Crap. Lauren didn’t want to think about it or what they’d done. During their passion, everything had seemed right, downright necessary. Now an attack of regret threatened. Feeling silly and shy, she could only manage a faint smile.
Dante didn’t seem to notice her change in mood. He yawned lustily then snuggled close. “We gotta go.”
Her heart fell, which was ridiculous. Of course, they had to go. They couldn’t stay here for the rest of their lives, even if she wanted that. Pushing back her disappointment and longing, she mumbled, “Yeah, it’s late. We both should go home and get some real sleep.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.” He pushed to his elbow and eased his arm from her waist. “Can you turn around and get off this thing without falling?”
Lauren could only hope. If she fell on her ass, she’d feel like a complete idiot. “Yeah, I guess.” She frowned.
“What?” he asked.
She was about to shake her head and pretend nothing was bothering her but couldn’t. For some reason, Lauren wanted to be straight with Dante. “You said you weren’t talking about you and me going to our respective homes for some real sleep. What did you mean?”
“Having dinner.”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “Now? It’s so late.”
“It’s probably not even eleven.” He grinned. “I know I have a lot of stamina but even I can’t go on for hours.”
Lauren laughed.
He murmured, “I know you haven’t been eating.”
She sobered quickly, her face hot with embarrassment. “Of course I have. You’ve seen me eat here every day.”
“Not the pizza I’ve offered or the takeout I’ve had Jasmina get.”
“That’s for you guys.”
“It’s for the crew,” he corrected. “That means you too.” He ran his finger down her throat to her boob. Lauren shivered at his wonderful touch. He spoke more softly than before, “You bring a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch every day because it’s my guess that’s all you can afford.”
She lied, “I like the taste.”
“You’ll like what I have in mind better. No arguments.” With more skill and grace than she possessed, Dante helped her from the table then jumped off and grabbed his stretchy boxers.
She stared at his naked ass, wanting to run her tongue over his hard, tight muscles.
He looked over and cocked one eyebrow. “You being bad?”
Impossibly so. “You gonna spank me again if I am?”
“Nope. No more spanking, no more anything if you don’t get dressed.”
Lauren pushed out her bottom lip and mumbled, “Prick.”
He grinned. “You have no idea.”
She had some. Lauren’s skin tingled with her memories of him inside of her. She dressed quickly.
Outside, he locked the front door of the parlor and took her hand as though they’d been dating for years. Not that they ever would. Once she found a job or sold this place, it was doubtful they’d still see each other. Not wanting to think about that now, she tightened her fingers around his. Dante squeezed her hand in return and breezed past her car. It was the only vehicle in front of Wicked Brand. “Where did you park?”
“Didn’t. I live nearby and can walk.”
Despite the hour, tourists strolled down the streets, restaurants still hummed. Many patrons ate outside. The clack of utensils against plates, conversation, laughter and a riot of music filled the sidewalks. The sky was surprisingly clear with a zillion stars, too many for Lauren to wish on, though she tried, hoping for the impossible. That these moments would never end. A gentle breeze cooled the sticky night, bringing with it the flowers’ sweet perfume and the mouthwatering scents of Mexican, Thai, Jamaican and other ethnic cuisines.
Her stomach rumbled.
Dante glanced over.
In the soft glow of the antique streetlamps, he looked like a fallen angel, wickedly handsome, virile
as all hell.
“You’re hungry,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You like meat?”
She regarded his fly, the beautiful bulge behind it. “Don’t know. You never gave me a chance to eat you.”
He laughed. “Meat, meat. As in food.”
Lauren noticed that he hadn’t offered to let her pleasure him orally. Not out here, of course, but later, back at the parlor. She sensed they wouldn’t be returning there for some carnal dessert. In spite of her disappointment, she kept up a cheery front. “I’ve been known to enjoy it.”
“Good.” He squeezed her fingers and picked up his pace, leading her past colorful storefronts painted in bright primary colors, their windows and doors decorated with tiny white Christmas lights. Even the trunks of the palm trees boasted the sparkling decorations, which added a festive air.
Dante turned the corner. A sudden gust of wind brought the amazing scents of grilled beef, corn, garlic and spices that conjured up images of island life, beaches with sand so white it resembled powdered sugar, fronds dancing in the persistent breeze, the tang of the ocean, the scent of sunbaked skin and sex.
Two buildings down, he finally stopped. The sign over the front door read Castillo’s Cuban Cuisine. A dining area was set up outside, its white linen tablecloths and bright-red awning fluttering in the breeze. Most of the couples here tonight were close in age to her and Dante. From the sound system, a soprano cried out her song while a piano played in the background. The young waiter stationed at the door grinned at Dante. He’d already let go of Lauren’s hand and grasped the guy’s instead. They hugged and patted each other on the back.
Clearly, they had to be good friends even though several years separated them. She wondered if Dante had once taught school, maybe gym given his superb physical condition and this guy had been one of his students.
“Ricardo,” Dante said then gestured to her. “Lauren.”
“Welcome to Castillo’s,” Ricardo said, his attention zipping up and down her as he shook her hand.
“Lauren’s my boss,” Dante added. “She owns Wicked Brand and everything in it, including me.”
“He’s kidding,” she said to Ricardo and shot Dante a look.
He winked.
Ricardo wiggled his heavy eyebrows and led them to a table close to where the others sat.
“Uh-uh,” Dante said. “That one over there.” He gestured to the last one in the group, decidedly private, downright romantic.
God, she was going to die when this ended, spending the rest of her life wanting it back.
Dante behaved like a guy who’d done this thousands of times with countless other women. He helped Lauren with her chair then sank into his own and spoke Spanish to Ricardo. The young man had already pulled out a small notepad and wrote quickly. Stopping finally, he said something in Spanish.
“Don’t know,” Dante answered then turned to her. “You like beer? Rum? Wine?”
“I’m driving. I’ll stick with water.”
“One of your designer kinds,” Dante told Ricardo. “I’ll have a Skol.”
“You got it. Back in a few minutes.”
When they were alone, Lauren asked, “Can you afford this?”
Dante smiled. “Don’t worry. I get a discount.”
“Why? You inked Ricardo and all the other people who work here?”
“I wish. That’d be good for business.” He smiled broadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with it. “Ricardo’s my cousin. My uncle owns this place.”
Ah. His and Ricardo’s hug really made sense now. Lauren folded her arms on the table, hungry for information about Dante. “You’re from West Palm Beach?”
“God no. Little Havana. My parents, six brothers and two sisters still live there.”
“Wow. Eight siblings?” That was hard to imagine since she’d been an only child. “Where did you fall in the pecking order?”
“I’m the oldest.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his hard belly. “That made me the boss.”
She laughed. “You’re never going to let me forget what I said that first day.”
“I told you there’d be punishment.”
Lauren arched one eyebrow. “I haven’t been that bad.”
“Hey, you’ve been downright docile. Staying out of things. Hiding in the office.” His smile hung on for a moment then faded. He wasn’t playful any longer or open, masking whatever was going on inside his head.
Confused at his change in mood, Lauren asked, “What?”
Dante hesitated then asked, “How’s the job search coming?”
A sudden pang of sadness reminded Lauren of the reality of their situation. This wonderful night was probably a one-time deal. Even if they got together again during the next weeks, that wouldn’t come close to being forever. She’d go on with her life. He’d move on with his. Not wanting to talk about it, she shrugged.
“Your search for a buyer going as bad?” he asked.
Worse. “I’ve put out some feelers. The attorney who handled Frank’s estate said he’d help. I’d only have to take on three jobs, if I could get them, in order to pay his fee.”
Dante made a noise of disgust, matched by his deep frown. “If you let it, fucking legal shit will steal your soul and integrity.”
His sudden anger surprised Lauren. He was the most laid-back person she’d ever known. She wondered if someone had sued him and he’d lost everything. If that’s why he didn’t seem to worry about money or covet it. He knew it only caused problems.
“I told him I’d handle things myself,” she said.
“Smart move. You need to let the company pay you a salary so you can survive until you sort things out.”
She pushed back in her chair. “The parlor’s barely making it. I don’t want it to go into debt on my account.”
“Take what you need from my salary.”
“I can’t.”
“You could pay me back.”
“How? My job was outsourced. Every human resources position I’ve applied to has dozens of candidates who’re scrambling like I am. The multinational that’s taken over the internal HR jobs isn’t hiring. Even Walmart doesn’t want me to run one of their checkouts.”
Dante sighed. “You’re making this worse for yourself than it has to be. Frank gave you the place so you’d have something to count on.”
“Count on? Are you serious?” Lauren was so suddenly pissed she crossed her arms and squeezed them to keep her anger in. “Clearly, you didn’t know Frank.”
“I knew him very well.”
“No you didn’t. Not like I did—for the short time I knew him.”
Dante’s expression changed. “Look, I didn’t mean to bring up anything bad. I’m sorry. We can drop it.”
Lauren didn’t want to. All of her life, well-meaning people had made excuses for Frank when he hadn’t deserved their support. They’d told her there had to be a reason why he’d acted the way he had. That she’d misunderstood or wasn’t giving him a chance. Screw that.
“I don’t want to drop it,” she said to Dante. “You need to know what kind of man he really was.”
“Lauren, I—”
She interrupted, “Frank abandoned my mom and me when I was five. He left for work one day but never showed up there and didn’t come home either. Didn’t call. Nothing. My mom went nuts. She thought he was dead. Social Security wasn’t as certain since there was no body, so there weren’t any survivor benefits for seven years when he was finally declared dead. Since my mom hadn’t been working at the time he’d taken off, there was no money coming in. No savings either. She had to go on welfare so we wouldn’t be on the street. She worked as many jobs as she could to take care of me. I turned six, seven, ten, twenty, still no word from Frank.”
Lauren tensed, recalling those awful years, her own confusion as to what had happened, how she must have caused it, her mom’s initial panic then heartache over a man she’d truly loved.
“All that
time we never knew if he was still alive or not,” she said. “We guessed if he was still around, he’d changed his identity and started a new life with a new last name. That was the dad I got. That was the man I knew. He turned his back on his own child. He didn’t even have the decency to come to my mom’s funeral. No way did he leave me the parlor so I’d have something to count on. My guess is he was staring at his own mortality and figured he better do something decent before he died so he wouldn’t burn in hell.”
She’d spoken quietly, no doubt so the other diners wouldn’t overhear, but her body trembled with outrage and a lifetime of hurt.
If Frank had been here right now, Dante would have slugged him for causing Lauren so much pain. No father should do that to a child no matter how fucked up the guy’s life had been.
Dante had known that when Frank had confessed his past. At the time, Dante had already liked the guy and wasn’t sure what to make of what he’d done to his family. It was so surreal that Lauren hadn’t even fit into the equation. She’d been no more than a name, an abstract concept. Not a flesh-and-blood woman whose sorrow now tightened his gut and stole his breath.
He would have gathered her in his arms to let her know it was okay to be pissed—she certainly had the right—but Ricardo took just that moment to return with the beer, water and appetizers. A tray of bocaditos, deep-fried wedges of pastry filled with a variety of beef, ham, chicken and cheese, or any number of other combinations spiced to perfection.
“Disfrutar,”Ricardo said. Spanish for enjoy.
Dante wanted that for Lauren more than anything. Once his cousin was out of earshot, he scooted his chair closer to hers and rested his hand on her thigh. “You okay?”
“No. Yeah. I don’t know.” She uncrossed her arms and laced her fingers through his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off like that.”
“Hey, it’s all right.” He squeezed her hand gently. “You have every reason.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I want to hate him. I mean really hate him, but I can’t.”
