A shiver of dread freezes each vertebra in my spine. Maybe I feel something unnatural for her too. I get carried away in the moment when she’s naked, on her knees, and spitting saliva from her mouth around my dick. My urges respond to her neediness with electric volts and hungry bites.
I understand why she’s not scared of me, because she sees my flaws and I see hers. The darkness in me greets the darkness in her. Together, we become an eclipse.
When Carina’s hungry for me, her fiery eyes flame with lust and curiosity uniquely combined. Her wild pulse always accelerates as her arousal switches up a notch when I’m controlling and uncivilized, balls deep in her tight pussy.
That fluttery, quick thrum of her life source transfuses an incredible power into me. I fucking love it more than the feel of any other woman on my dick.
My veins pump faster at the mental vision of bruised skin and a peachy ass ripe for feasting on. I turn my back to my mother to consume another drink and hide my dangerously hard dick. She doesn’t need to see the perversion within me, nor does she need to know how I seek satisfaction from the woman she’s trying to steer me away from.
“She’s duty bound to obey me. Full stop.” I add, hoping to end this pointless conversation. “Nothing more and nothing less.”
“Forever the Souza.” Mother pouts unstained lips, her usual muddy brown lipstick long removed before bedtime. “If that’s the case, my darling boy, then make sure your little bird flies away before she’s shot out of the sky.” And there’s the killer shot right there. The bullet of unconditional love and the pain of inevitable death. “Sometimes, Tommy, the path we’re meant to walk isn’t the one we lay for ourselves.” She folds her arms and watches her words settle over me.
I don’t do intimacy, and my mother knows that. Which is why I don’t need to find sanctuary next to a woman at every opportunity.
Rather than join Carina in my bed tonight, I’ll prepare for the funeral and take refuge in the guest wing. Laying with her, body to body, in a game of togetherness, isn’t an option. She’s employed to serve my whims, not tempt me at every turn.
I’m a dangerous man. Life with me would be apocalyptic for a good girl like her.
Blurred lines are now crystal clear. Her employment has begun.
22
TOMÁS
I spent the morning outdoors, jogging in the tangerine mist of a spectacular sunrise. afterward, I sat on the terrace by the gurgling water fountain and sipped a strong coffee.
I’m delaying the inevitable—facing Carina in the wake of my mother’s warning.
My head knows this is a temporary situation between us. Yet I’m torn. For the first time, my gut is divided. Split right down the middle with an uncomfortable gap separating one outcome with the other. Make her mine or set her free. Get blood on my hands or settle in paralyzed peace.
When I finally enter my suite, it's a few minutes before midday. I don’t see her straight away, which makes my stomach flip. I follow my feet past the ruffled sheets that tell me she’d slept in my bed. Lucky her. I had a shit night's sleep, even after I jerked off—twice. It was either that, or stalk back to this bed and suffocate her with my hungry dick. I drag a hand down my face and bite my finger at the vision that fantasy offers.
Near the walk-in wardrobe, she’s huddled up on the corner couch, thighs tucked to her chest, and chin on her knees. Her gaze instantly finds my tired appearance. Rather than speak, she just stares at me with those big eyes the size of copper peso coins.
Her position exposes the curve of her ass where one of my t-shirts is caught up in wrinkles. Long, lean legs and soft flesh grip my attention for a beat too long.
“I thought you were staying here with me?” Her brow furrows ever so slightly. Waiting for my response, she bunches her hair in a fist and drags the sable lengths over her shoulder.
“You thought wrong,” I say matter-of-factly, instantly feeling like an asshole.
“What changed?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “I didn’t need your services.” My ribs compress like they’re trying to punish my thawing heart for being so frosty.
She nods once, as if understanding the arrangement. I ignore the strange look flash behind her eyes and stroll to the bathroom, rubbing the dull ache in my bare chest. With guests arriving soon and my father’s pending burial, I’m tense and unsettled. I move to the toilet, take off my boxer briefs and start to piss before my shower.
Tingles sprinkle my scalp as if a force of nature is warning me of a torrential downpour. When I angle around, she’s standing by the door, her gaze lingering on the dick in my hand, her sneaky tongue skating between rosy lips.
I’m screwed.
I take my time to finish, casually releasing my dick, and strolling to the faucet to wash my hands. Her tiny gasp lights a match and detonates trillions of ferocious chills. We both know I’m sporting another hard-on because of her.
Her exhale whispers through our electrified silence, the vibration of combined lust bouncing off the walls. She wants to fuck and so do I.
“I take it you’re happy with the black dresses I picked out for you?” I ask, turning away from the vanity and sauntering into the open concept shower. Water gushes down on the mosaic tiles underfoot, hot and energetic like my volatile libido.
“They’re fine,” she says over the heavy waterfall noise.