Lavish Love: A Second Chance Romance (Blazin' Love Book 9)

by Ja'Nese Dixon

  Alexandria loves to dance. She used to dance all night until her feet were sore, and I had to carry her home. I follow her lead, and her side to side rock brings our bodies closer, our eyes lock. Her breast against my chest, my hands wrapped around her. She melts against me, our legs sandwich in a sexual grind. I brush my lips across her shoulder and up her neck, inhaling and exhaling in tandem as a bead of sweat trickles down my spine.

  The DJ changes the record. The boom tat, boom tat of the base shifts. We dip and roll as the singer cries about a man’s lack of love. I spin Alexandria around until her ass molds to my body. I can’t disguise my aroused state, her hands grip my thighs like handlebars, throwing her ass back like she’s riding my dick. When her smoky eyes glance up, I’m fucking done.

  I hold on enjoying my woman and the music, lost in the moment until thunderous applause pulls us out of a seductive trance.

  The DJ spins a new record, and each song takes us further down the path of desire. I smell her arousal, the heat rising from her skin, and by the time we climb in the waiting car, Alexandria is straddling my lap. The red fabric drapes around us like a canopy.

  I close the privacy window as her sweet heat brushes against my rock-hard flesh, straining under my tuxedo pants. Her hands pass through the layers of fabric between us. I lower the neckline of her dress. I blink mesmerized by the sight of her bare breasts, and she yanks my zipper down.

  Her hot little hands wrap around my throbbing cock, and I groan, placing one of her chocolate nipples in my mouth. Her head falls back, stroking my flesh as I feast on her, squeezing her ass, trying to ignore the mounting tension. But her expert hands are about to send me over the edge. And I'm not going alone.

  I push back the layers brushing across her damp curls, and I dip inside. Her tormented moan fills the vehicle.

  “I thought you said no sex, mi alma.”

  "This isn't sex, Mateo. It's four play." Her fist is pumping from the tip of my head to the base of my dick, and I see stars.

  “So, me, palm deep in your sweet pussy isn’t sexing you?”

  “Got damn you…” she screams.

  I laugh but ain’t shit funny. “I almost forgot you like for me to talk to that pussy.”

  The passionate woman I once craved and love is front and center. The night is cold, the ground is covered in snow, and the city passes in a blur. She's beating my shit, and I'm fighting the inevitable, thrusting so deep in her that my hand is covered in her juices. I press my thumb against her jewel and slip in another finger, and it's lights out.

  She’s trembling, her nails digging into the side of my neck.

  “Papi’s home.”

  Her screams rattle my soul, as her demanding kisses piece me back together. I’m afraid the driver will think I’m killing her as her final strokes send me over the edge. Both of us dying a little for a sample of heaven.

  I growl spent, snaking my free hand up the side of her neck. I bring her mouth to mine.

  “Matty, we ruined a ten-thousand-dollar dress.”

  “I’ll buy you another one.”

  Chapter 9

  I wake in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, naked. My last memory of last night was seeing Mateo pulling the covers over me. The red dress is tossed across a chair, and I smell Mateo's scent on the pillow beside me. I'm in his bed.

  My stomach growls at the scent of seasoned beef in the air.

  "Matty." My eyes fall back closed when I hear laughter. I push my head up from the pillow, looking towards the sound. "Mateo."

  I sit up, draping the sheet around my body. He walks in with a smile on his face closing the door behind him. He's wearing a pair of pajama pants with no shirt. The man is chiseled with each movement his defined muscles flex until he reaches the bed.

  “Good morning.” The knowing smile on his face makes me ache for a repeat. He brought my body to completion three times without having to remove a single stitch of clothing.

  "Don't you say a word," I warn as embarrassment burns my cheeks. I was a wild woman last night.

  "I'm not complaining." He teases sitting on the bed, then he kisses me. I lean in closer for another one and sit back. "How'd you sleep?"

  "Like a baby, except I'm starving." My stomach decides to add its two cents, and he laughs. "That is so embarrassing."

  “I’ll make you a plate. Anything you don’t eat?”

  “Nah. I’ll eat just about anything that’s well done and seasoned.” I toss my legs over the side of the bed. “Which way is the restroom?”

  "That way." He points to the door in the far corner. "Your bags are in the closet, and Galiana had the clothes delivered this morning.”

  I pivot and head in the direction of the closet. His boisterous laughter fills the air. “Food. Sex. Shopping.”

  “…are all a woman needs.” I enter the closet. It was our running joke. I turn and recognize my sweater. My clothes are hung on the left side. “Did you do this?”

  He pops his head around the corner. “Tia Marie.”

  “Matty…” I whine. “You can’t have her doing that. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m not telling her that.” He throws his hands up.

  “She’ll think I’m a bum.”

  "No, she won't. It's her way of saying welcome." Mateo steps inside, closing the door behind him. "Sweetheart, you must remember you're my fiancé. So, get ready for my family to wait on you hand and foot." He pulls me against his warm body.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head, uncomfortable with the thought. I’m used to taking care of myself.

  “It’s the perks of having a big family.” He nibbles on my shoulder. “Now get dressed, my folks are waiting to meet you.”

  “Folks? They’re here?” I step back. “When were you going to tell me this?”

  "After you put on some clothes." He reaches for my breast, and I smack his hand away. "You're so selfish. You have two."

  "Out!" I laugh, pointing at the door. I need to shower, and then I think about my hair. I hurry to the mirror. I jerk my body around a freestanding structure, stopping in front of a wall mirror. I groan at the sight.

  “Alexandria….”

  “Look at me!” My hair is doing some sort of ridiculous wave, standing straight up in the air. Last night the beautician used all types of hairspray and gel to tame my thick natural curls. Did I even pack shampoo?

  He’s standing over my shoulder, obviously not understanding the severity of this situation.

  “It’ll be fine. Just jump in the shower and hurry before everyone eats the food. Mom made la bandera.”

  “Everyone…”

  "Yeah, Mom…Dad…Alejandro…" He rattles off a list of names. "They're staying here."

  "Here?" My stomach drops to my feet. I was okay with telling his parents to get them here. But it sounds like his entire family. "That was like a thousand people." I all but yell, and the walls start to close around me.

  His strong hands grip my shoulders. “Take a shower. Get dressed. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  "Make it ten." I pull down a pair of jeans and grab a sweater. They must know I'm in here. I spin around, looking at the row of shoes and spot mine on the end. I scurry over and pick up my sneakers. I need underwear. I spin back and see the island with drawers. "It's like I live here already."

  “I designed it as a his and her closet.”

  "More like an efficiency apartment," I mumble, opening a few drawers until I recognize the fabrics inside. I grab panties, a bra, and some socks. I'm holding the sheet in one hand and the clothes with my other making my way back to the bedroom. "What time is it?"

  “One thirty.”

  A wave of dizziness passes over me. His aunt put away my clothes. His mother cooked. And I had my lazy ass in the bed until two o'clock. Fake fiancé or not, I'm making a bad first impression, and I haven't met them yet. I take long drags, trying to force air into my lungs.

  "Why…why…why…did you let me?" I fold over, trying t
o make the room stop swaying. I notice the slits in my jeans. "I can't wear these. They'll think I'm a slut."

  I turn to find something else, and Mateo scoops me up into his arms. I wiggle and swing my arms, trying to free myself as he stalks out of the closet and lays me on the bed. The sheet is pulled away, the clothes are tossed aside, and he settles between my legs.

  "Stop it, Alex." Determination shines in his eyes. "You had a long day yesterday. They understand."

  “I’m fine.” I lie, struggling to hear his words over my heart. I’d rather stay in the closet than meet his family like this. I can only imagine what they’re thinking.

  I look away. A life of being the wrong child, the wrong skin color, the wrong father, makes perfectionism my comfort zone. Sluts that lounge around in bed all day miss the mark by a mile.

  Mateo adjusts his weight, squirming down my body. "You should always be covered in diamond mi querida.” His kisses run the length of my collarbone as if sampling the flavor of each diamond.

  “No…you can’t.” I try to hold him still by squeezing my thighs around his waist.

  "Shh…or, my mother will hear you." He laughs.

  "I don't see what's so damn funny." I push to sit up, and my hands are stretched above my head, and my breast is in his mouth. The suckling motion and the twirl of his tongue quiet my protests. He unlatches and hovers over me, eye to eye.

  "What do you require, mi querida? As long as my ring is on your finger, this is your home. That is your family. I am your man. You're safe and loved here."

  His words are killing me. Every run-in with my family, every disappointment, he'd remind me that I was safe, and I was loved. I close my eyes, shaking my head.

  This is all pretend. I'm not his fiancé, and even if his words of love are real, my family will never accept him.

  “I’m okay,” I swallow hard and meet his gaze.

  “You don’t have to lie to me.”

  "Just give me fifteen minutes, and I'll be right out." I force my lips to smile, internally pleading for him to believe me.

  “I’ll give you ten.”

  I sigh in relief as he pushes back into a sitting position. I reach for the sheet and quickly gather my clothes with his eyes watching my every move. I glance back before reaching the bathroom, and the intensity of his gaze causes me to stumble. I rush inside and close the door.

  "Damn." I scan the bathroom. Double vanities on either side of me lead to a large bathtub. The shower occupies the far corner behind glass panels. I walk closer, and the showerhead is a large square hanging from the ceiling. Are those light bulbs or cameras? I squint, trying to get a better look.

  I open the door and get my answer. Blue lights flick on, and I hop back. The lights turn off. I hop forward, and the lights turn on again. I smile. Must be a motion detector.

  I play with digital display and get the water going. I step out to let it the water warm up. I see Mateo’s hygiene products to the left, so I head to the vanity on the right.

  I drop the sheet and remove the diamond necklace and the studs. I unfasten the diamond bracelet and slip off my engagement ring. When did I become this woman? Not the one dripping in diamonds but the one so concerned about the opinions of everyone. Even Mateo.

  I scrub my scalp with the pads of my fingers searching for any remaining bobby pins, and once I'm satisfied that they're all removed, I climb in the shower. I tilt my head back, letting the water cover me.

  The truth is, I lost a piece of myself when I let my family run Mateo out of my life. In my attempts to protect the love we had, I became a shell of myself until Hunter started Platinum Prestige. That was my first real step towards independence from my family.

  It’s time to decide what I want now and for my future.

  The shower door opens, and Mateo steps inside. The steam swirls around us. I let my eyes caress the lean lines of his body. The definition in his chest, six-pack, and arms.

  “What’s that?”

  “Shampoo and conditioner. I took them from Tia’s bathroom. Turn around.”

  I obey, keeping an eye on him. His tight butt and the growing state of his erection. He sits a bottle on the bench and opens the other.

  “You can’t keep staring at it, love.”

  I giggle. "But, it's cute."

  "No man, what's his dick called cute. Now, turn around." Our laughs echo, and I turn my back to him. "Do you remember the first time I washed your hair?"

  He separates my hair dropping one side over my shoulder. I hold it looking up.

  “Do I? I had to cut chunks out of my hair from all the tangles. I can laugh at the memory now, but then I wanted to kill him."

  "I thought it was a romantic gesture before we had to get the scissors. You gave me a long lecture about Black women and their hair." He chuckles. "Tilt your head back." I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of his large hands massaging my scalp, slowly raking through my curls.

  “I can finish it.”

  “I know. But I figure we’ll either turn into raisins or you’ll talk to me.” He makes quick work of adding the conditioner.

  "What about your family?" I plait the section, and he moves to the other side.

  “What about them?” I open my mouth and find myself caged against the glass. “Remember I’m the man that slept in the same bed with you for two years. Four years of knowing a person adds up.”

  “Okay, I’m done.”

  “No, we’re not, not then or now. What will it take for you to see that?”

  “This is not why I came here. You asked for my help. I helped you. Now, move.”

  Mateo takes a step back. The water pounds against his body, his eyes darken with emotion. The personal feelings I tucked away are threatening to spill over. I feel weak and vulnerable, and undeserving. I step out of the shower without a towel aroused by his nearness, disgusted by my response.

  The heat of his eyes follows me. I’m starting to think this is a bad idea.

  Chapter 10

  "Mamá, Alexandria Martinez. Alexandria, my mother, Gloria Rodriquez." My mother covers her shocked response well.

  "Alexandria…Martinez. Nice to meet you." She extends a hand, and Alexandria accepts with a tight smile.

  Tia Marie is standing nearby, puzzled by the interaction as well. I made the rest of the introductions, and that was the start of our holiday festivities. Alexandria won't talk to me, and I feel blindsided by this invisible thing between her and my mother. It's been days of them bouncing around each other, and today I finally got my mother alone. We're waiting for the interior designer to arrive with the design books for their floor of the house.

  "What is it, Mamá?"

  “You didn’t tell me she was Black,” her voice holds a bitter tone.

  “I didn’t know I had to. She’s Mexican and African American. Why does it matter?”

  The elevator rings, and the door opens.

  “Now I see why her grandfather wanted you away from his granddaughter,” she says, the words linger with an air of distaste.

  I turn to her, confused. "What does one have to do with the other?"

  "You're Dominican, and she's Black." Her chopped English transitions to smooth Spanish in a hushed whisper as the decorator fidgets with her materials. "I thought it was odd for you to date for years and suddenly poof, she was gone. Now, it makes perfect sense. That man didn't want you marrying her. He'd rather pay you off and move you out of the state than let you have her. What will he say now?"

  I look away, thinking about my mother's words. I can't respond because her grandfather doesn't know that she's in New York with me. The old man is still running her life. She's still letting him. It was a vicious cycle then, and its worst now because I'm not a boy anymore. I'm a man in command of my life and my business. And now my mother springs this on me. I can't refute your words because a part of me always wondered.

  The interior designer takes over, and I leave them alone. I'm paying a mini fortune for the designer to work over the holidays
and the security crew in Santo Domingo to fully outfit my parents' home. Aiming to buy myself more time, I thought having the space personalized would help them feel at home. But it seems it's not enough because they're still set on leaving the day after Christmas.

  My parents have a floor like Tia Maria, and my siblings share the final level beneath mine. I ride the elevator up to the penthouse to talk with Alexandria. My phone rings, it's Susan. The twenty-four-hour security team I'm relocating to Santo Domingo is waiting to meet with me at the office before flying out. The crew finished the installation this morning, and I need to finalize my selections for the guards. Doesn't anyone take the holidays off anymore?

  My relationships with Alexandria and my mother are equally strained, and all I wanted was a relaxing family Christmas. I thought Alexandria would love spending time with my family, and I was partially right. She and Tia Marie have been closed off in that sewing room for days. Alexandria seems to enjoy hanging out with her, but I wouldn't know because the woman has laid beside me every night and won't talk with me beyond a fucked up "yes" or a simple ass "no."

  Like an idiot, my heart, my soul, and my body still want her. I lean forward using the wall for support, forcing myself to take a deep breath. Maybe it's some poor man's complex to want the thing you can't have, or some rich man's complex to think gifts, and patience, and fucking determination will get you the things that money can’t buy. Because all I want is Alexandria’s love.

  And to think I considered extending an invitation to her folks. I knew Alexandria for four years, and we never spent the holidays with them as a couple. I quieted my fears about the Blackwells' dislike of me by focusing on the elephant in our relationship, finances. I was poor. She was not. I can understand how her grandfather would question that dynamic, it seemed like the apparent reason. The fact that I overcompensated by paying all the bills, and I loved Alexandria didn't mean a thing to them. But my race… Is my mother, right?