Anger eclipses my collected façade, and I call her out. “Aye, your eyes don’t light up every time you glance at a painting? That’s why you put all your work into finding my daughter because she has raw talent?”
“Yes,” Essence gasps. “Alexis is talented!”
“Her talents could use refining, sí or no?”
A slight honest nod is the only truth between us.
“You saw something in mi hija. What do you see when you look at yourself, Essence?”
Seconds too late, I realize I’ve crossed the line. The hint of softness in Essence’s mouth vanishes, and her plush lips tug tightly. “You know what, Antonio? We could put half this energy into sex. I would stay here without checking things on an agenda or having a calendar as you sarcastically said until you kick me out.”
“Because you expect that!”
“Yes!”
“You expect so little of me!” I drop to my knees, shoving at the material of her skirt and cursing beneath my breath. “I will have you naked, Essence! Naked and at my mercy.”
“Yes.” Her fingers stroke into my hair as I nip the mound of her shaven pussy. I bring Essence’s legs over my shoulders. Her hips arch, so my lips suck the tiny hood of her cunt into my mouth.
“This is all you want?” I inquire. With each new agreement, it stokes a dangerous fire in me. “Just this type of pleasure, sí?”
“Yes, Manny!”
I pull her onto the fur rug, lips glued to her pussy in a frenzy, sucking the juices inside her throbbing folds.
Get her off.
Quick.
Hard.
As Essence bucks against the rug, I devour her offering, then sit back and wipe my face. “It breaks my heart. This is all you desire.”
Essence leans back onto her elbows, shame shading her eyes. “It’s so hard to differentiate between you and...”
“And that Italian pinche cabrón!”
“You’re an artist,” she gasps, still overthrown by the orgasm. Slowly, Essence climbs to her feet, and I help her up.
“Manny, he’s an artist. Do you think I fell head over heels just because! No, he had an arsenal of sweet words. You make sex an art form. Hello, what was the painting title you suggested, The Wettest Woman Ever?”
I nod. “Sí. So, did he have a pick-up line that made you wet? Did he encourage you to paint?”
“He...”
“I don’t think he did, preciosa. I doubt he encouraged you at all.”
“Why’s that?”
“Had that pendejo truly encouraged you, you would've still believed in yourself once he removed the wool from your eyes!”
“I. Am. Going. Home.” Her hair whips as she looks at the massive doors, trying to figure out which way to my helipad.
I stalk after Essence. “You gave up, preciosa. How many years has it been, ten?”
Essence turns around; her alluring face darkened in wrath and a woman’s scorn. “Ha! I’m in my forties, Manny. Try 20!”
“I don’t say filler words, Essence. I’m passionate. And encouraging. So, if Gustavo Lara had built you up, cultivated you in the first place, then—”
“Then I would’ve had strength. Kicked Gustavo’s ass. You make it seem like I’m some easy—”
“I don’t know if you were easy back then. You’re by no means easy now, preciosa.” Aye. A little too far. I’m pushing her buttons, but that’s the detonator.
“Grrr!” Essence has stalked into yet another sitting room of many. I always thought I’d never have to leave my home. Now, she’s stuck in a labyrinth of rooms with a man who’s quickly becoming her next enemy. Bravo, Manny.
“Take me home, Antonio!”
Luckily, I’ve spent millions on creating art rooms where I can paint if I’ve the urge. I grab a paintbrush from a decorative shelf and attempt to place it into her hands. “Would you go your entire life looking at your dream through a window?”
“No.”
“Bueno! Tonight’s the moment you stop. Take it.”
Essence chews her lips while tears spring in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I get it. You will encourage me one way or another. Manny, I still can’t...”
“Alright, preciosa.” My voice softens, and I drop the brush, only to lift her into my arms.
I kiss her forehead and determine she may very well respond better to... Pleasure. And pain.
Chapter 10
Essence
As his demeanor melds back into the compromising Antonio that I know, I assess how convincing he’s been thus far. Always yielding, giving me the allusion of control. And now, I’m here. Although less than an hour of travel time, a different country is still a different country!
With a man I hardly know.
Something about him tempts me to live a little. Still, I fold my arms over in defiance.
“Boy,” I begin with the low blow term, “I said I couldn’t. Respect that, or I leave by any means. I might be fighting to save my gallery. But I can afford a two, maybe three, hours Uber ride back to LA.” Does Uber cross borders?
This entire decision to follow him home was for a weekend of dick.