“Yesss!” I exclaim. “I’m glad you told your friend ‘no.’ Though, your friend was butthurt that you used him to get—”
“Enough on that.” He sits the flute down and proceeds to run his hands over my hips. “Do you know what people do when they have a lot of money?”
“Invest,” I purr, pushing back thick hair over Antonio’s shoulder to kiss a trail over the shape of his tattoo.
“The right way—stocks, or the wrong way—Vegas, si. They invest.”
Gyrating, I glide my honey all over the cock that has yet to penetrate the ache in my core. “Stop talking, Antonio.”
“Hey, what did I say about using me as a fuck toy?” Antonio caresses my hips while asking, “Shall I fuck you, preciosa?”
“Please,” I whimper as ropy arms lift me high so that the crown of him tantalizes the crux of my pussy. I arch my hips, sacrificing my pussy to him, but Antonio doesn’t spear me.
No. He inches inside of me. One thick, hypnotic inch at a time.
“Shall I fuck you harder, preciosa, sí or no?” He alternates between English and Spanish, the words infusing into my bloodstream with each stroke of his dick.
Deeper. Deeper. And deeper still.
“Yes,” I beg. “Harder, Manny. Harderrr!”
As I put all my weight into pushing down, Antonio’s controlling hands hold me captive. I moan against the stubble at his cheek once he’s fully seated inside me and bucking like an animal.
Antonio sends me to new heights each time his dick loves my slickness. My mouth opens in ecstasy as a single tear slides down my cheek. Kissing the tiny stream, he inquires, “Shall I continue fucking you, preciosa?”
With my throat jammed, I nod like I’m begging for my next hit with no property left to sell for it.
Antonio’s leg has hooked between my thighs, and he shifts until he’s on top. My face and body are slammed into the mattress.
“Best. Pussy. I. Ever. Had.” Antonio grunts between beatings into my channel.
My body’s crushed into the feather duvet. Out of control, I call out his name. His explosive orgasm fights to control my sopping, wet pussy. My hands and knees give out. I only have the energy to turn my face to the side on my pillow. Can’t suffocate myself.
Sniggering to himself, Antonio pulls me back into his arms again. “Can we talk now?”
“You can,” I say breathlessly.
“Bueno. Let’s return to our previous discussion.”
I brag, “All I remember is you saying my pussy’s the best you ever had and how much money Ryoichi dropped tonight.”
Powerful hands drape over my throat. “Don’t ever mention another man when you’re in bed with me, preciosa.”
“Sorry.” I giggle like a teen. Damn, Antonio Emmanuel Silva has returned the stolen years of my youth.
He says, “Now, I want to invest in us.”
As it dawns on me that Antonio mentioned Vegas, my eyes find his. The insinuation makes my heart stutter. I ask, “You want us to do something reckless in Vegas?”
“Not reckless, preciosa.” Antonio reaches over to grip a bottle of tequila; looped on the neck is a flawless engagement ring. “Don’t tell me it's too soon. I knew you were the one at first sight. I will fight for you like I had the first day, Essence. I will love you forever. So, marry me,” he declares, “in Las Vegas.”
While Ryann’s headed on the trip of a lifetime, I can’t say that a quick ride to Vegas is worth any less. I’ll kickstart my life too. Blissful tears emerge in my eyes as I reply, “Let's go to Vegas.”
* * *
Luke 8:39
“Return home and tell how much God has done for you.” So the man went away and told all over town how much Jesus had done for him.
Author’s Note
Please consider writing a review of Essence and Antonio’s story and thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed some of the side characters . . . hint . . . hint, Ryoichi and Ryann. They are the focal point of MAI TAI. Grab that book now in the lunchtime chronicle series. Also, turn the page for an excerpt of Kasey Martin’s
* * *
Amarie Nicole
Mai Tai/ Super Tiny Excerpt . . .
1
Ryoichi
Until the age of 14, my palette consisted of rice and the occasional egg that I was fortunate to save from falling from the back of a farmer’s truck during their travel to the street market. All the more rare was a touch of fish paste. God. For someone who resided in a small mountain town, the taste of fish paste was like my meat.
Nevertheless, while my stomach often screamed in protest for more nourishment, I had ventured to domestic cities and foreign countries alike between the pages of secondhand literature.
That was then.
A tarnished upbringing, not suitable for the future lieutenant to the Tatchan clan. I will say, every hardship prepared me for this.