by V. F. Mason
He pulls at my bottom lip before probing inside again and allowing me to taste myself on him. Something from within me feels such satisfaction that, in a way, he is marked by my scent and taste. He angles my head a little to gain deeper access and continues the assault on my mouth, almost fucking it, as if forever claiming it for himself time and time again.
Finally, he lets go, and I gulp a breath while he sucks on my neck harshly. I wince but love it at the same time.
The whole world should know I belong to him. “Place your hand on the bed, love,” he whispers, and I follow his command, my skin coated in sweat. He knees my legs apart and moves his hand up, bringing his fingers to my mouth and ordering, “Suck.” I wrap my tongue around them, moaning at the feel of us together, and that’s when he presses on my stomach and enters me with one swift move, stifling the screams threatening to erupt from me.
I suck in air, letting go of him and adjusting to his hard cock. Wiggling my ass a little and throwing him a look over my shoulder, I raise my brows and ask, “Is that it?” Whenever we make love, I always need to antagonize him, to bring up the man he becomes when he needs to have me.
When all his control is simply not there, and only I matter for him. In those rare moments, he is mine and only mine, and no one gets to see this side of him but me.
A harsh slap bounces off my ass cheek as he pushes back and then slams inside again, filling me to the brim, and I stifle a moan into the pillow. He pulls my hair, inhaling my scent, and I slide my hand across his neck, scratching him lightly, while he jerks back only to come home again.
The headboard hits the wall with his thrusts, which send me spiraling higher as he presses in all the right spots. I can feel his muscles flex as his hot breath caresses my skin. I am aware of his growl, his tightened grip, our mingled breaths as the world becomes a blur and only our desire exists.
I could live in this cocoon he creates around us forever, forsaking food and everything else as long as he is close to me. Because in his arms I find heaven on earth.
“Your mouth, baby.”
I arch my neck, giving him free access to pour all his need into me with a deep, wet, harsh kiss that sends electricity from my hair to the tips of my toes while his hard cock continues to pound into me.
In and out, in and out, making me so full that taking breaths becomes more and more difficult.
He lets go of me and flips me onto my back again, momentarily disconnecting us, and I whimper in pain, because it physically hurts me not to have him inside me.
Eugene looms above me, his muscled chest glistening in the sun from the sweat. He slides his hands from the base to the tip of his dick, and I lick my lips while his groan echoes in the room. “Don’t even think about it,” he hisses.
I long to wrap my mouth around its purple head and suck to savor his taste. I need him inside me.
No, I crave him.
So I lie on my back and open my legs, lacing my hands above my head while asking breathlessly, “Don’t you want to have me, baby?” I mock the word, and he growls, leaning on me and locking our mouths again, then he slams into my pussy, holding my legs wide open for him.
As raw and dirty as it is, I’ve never felt more loved in my entire life. These moments are everything, because with each touch he shows me that I’m the only woman he loves and desires.
But never pities.
Isn't that the greatest gift of all?
I hug him close to me, not wanting even an inch of space between us while we continue to kiss. His thrusts become slower, barely even there.
We are pressing so hard against each other I don't know where he ends and I begin.
I gasp for breath, arching my neck, and he sucks on my collarbone all while sliding in and out, allowing me to get off on him.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he finds the spot I so desperately need him to hit to bring me to the edge.
Thrust, thrust, thrust.
And finally, I clench around him while wave after wave of spasms rush through me, leaving me breathless and powerless.
He gives a guttural groan into my neck and I feel him spill into me. I wrap my legs tighter around him, never wanting to let go.
I graze his back with my nails, breathing in his scent while our heartbeats thump against each other and peace settles in me.
Every time we make love, it’s like the world is ending and we are left alone in this universe. He cherishes and loves every bone in my body, with each touch reminding me that I belong to him, and he’ll never harm me.
He is the only person in this world I trust wholeheartedly. A man who’s shown me that I might have scars that will last a lifetime, but they never have to define me. “I read a magazine article that said sex should be postponed till the honeymoon.” I nip his neck, and he jerks inside me. “So we won’t lose the drive.” Teasing laces my voice. He rolls onto his back, tearing a squeal from me, and places me firmly on his chest.
“Trust me, pretty girl. There won’t be a day I don’t want to fuck you.” He waits a beat, and then adds, “Well, maybe once we are eighty and I…. Nope, not even then.”
I nudge him a little in the side and then sigh dramatically. “The magazine was right. I should keep you away before tying the knot.”
His hold on me hardens, and he growls, “Just try, baby. Just fucking try keeping me away.”
I shiver under this display of dominance that always feels so strange coming from this sweet man, and only emerges after or during our lovemaking.
Eugene popped the question a month ago, and of course, I said yes.
A smile spreads on my face when the memory flashes in my head.
“I’m so tired,” I whine, digging my heels in the concrete on the way to the studio, but Eugene has none of that.
Instead, he tightens his fingers around my wrist and drags me to the door then throws me over his shoulder. “Don’t you need that painting?” After my first gallery show was successful, Rebecca invited me to participate in a few shows with her. I would have said yes just for the prestige alone, but the contract and the salary she offered me sealed the deal.
All in all, life seemed like a dream come true with my man, my best friend, and the career I’ve always wanted.
“Yes, but I can do it tomorrow.” I tug on my hands, but it’s useless. “My feet are sore after all the dancing we’ve done.” Not to mention my full stomach. I was supposed to work all day today, but Eugene showed up a few hours ago and told me we had a reservation at Emilio’s place.
There, we ate delicious food and had the best time. “Shouldn’t this romantic escapade end with hot sex?” I ask huskily, sliding my finger over his arm while he jiggles the keys in his other hand and tries to unlock the door.
“A little patience, my love,” he murmurs and finally opens the door, sweeping me inside.
The minute my foot steps inside the place, my gasps bounce off the walls, because everything is lit with hundreds of candles surrounded by rose petals. “What’s this?” I whisper, but then my eyes widen when Eugene drops to one knee and opens a black velvet box containing the most beautiful sapphire ring I’ve ever seen.
It’s so blue, clear like the sky, and reflects the candlelight. There are no other stones to take away from the beauty or vividness of the gem. “Lila Kristina Lockwood, will you make an honest man of me?”
How can I say anything else but yes to the man who has given me everything?
I rest my chin on my hands and watch him from under my lashes while he gently plays with my hair. “Do you think we’ll be boring once we get married?” He grins and shakes his head. I fist the hair on his chest gently, and he growls. “A little bit more reassurance than that please,” I prompt.
“Of course not.” He laces his fingers in my hair and draws me closer, until our mouths are inches apart. “How can this be boring?” He captures my mouth in a kiss, playing my tongue like an instrument and invading my mouth as if his single focus is to stamp his claim all over me.
&nbs
p; Heat slowly creeps back in, and I want to dive in for round two, when my eyes land on the alarm clock. “Oh my God,” I mutter into his mouth and jump on the bed, sitting up on my knees.
He groans, “Protect the family jewels, woman.”
“I’m dead, Eugene!” I shout and quickly get out of bed, grabbing my silk robe on the way. “I have exactly one hour to get ready before we need to meet with Sorcha at the bridal salon.”
“Calm down, Lila,” he orders, and immediately I freeze, watching him carefully as he comes to stand next to me, then walks toward the bathroom, completely unashamed of his nakedness.
Why would he be? The man could grace magazine covers displaying his beauty, but he hides it all under baggy clothes.
Who cares though? I like knowing he’s only mine.
His possessive ways clearly touch me too, because just the idea of another woman so much as touching my man sets me on a spiral of rage where the green-eyed monster rules.
“Let’s take a shower together.” He crooks his finger at me, his heated gaze scanning me from head to toe.
I cover my eyes and march toward the guest room, shouting, “No way, you tempting devil. At this rate, I may as well not show up. Sorcha will kill me anyway.”
His laughter radiates through the space, and I speed up my pace, ready to get this wedding thing over and done with.
I love my man to pieces and can’t wait to become his.
Even if sometimes I wonder why he never allows me access to certain aspects of his life.
* * *
Him
Leaning on the hood of my car, I study the family in front of me and think how perfect an image they make.
The man kneels next to his son in the park, adjusting his baseball cap, and winks, while the kid laughs at something his father says. His beautiful wife gazes at them with love and pats her son’s head gently. They continue their walk, the man hugging her close and whispering what’s probably some stupid shit into her ear, and I ponder how appearances might be deceiving.
People rarely pay attention to those who fit into the mold of the perfect or well-put-together person, never wondering what hides beneath their skin. It’s easier to pass judgement on someone from a bad neighborhood or someone who doesn’t wear proper attire; they rarely think real monsters live among them too.
They are just excellent at hiding their true nature.
Footsteps from expensive leather shoes echo next to me. I know the owner well, and he asks, “Is he the last one?”
I turn my attention from the happy family and look at Emilio, who takes out his Cuban cigar and lights up, awaiting my reply. Why he’s stuck with me through the years, I’ll never know, but nevertheless, I’m glad we have this fucked-up friendship that usually covers only the dirty aspect of our lives.
After all, with my alter ego, our professional paths rarely cross. The private ones merge only due to our women, and certain roles have to be played. “Yes.”
“And they call us screwed. They certainly don’t know what that perfect man is capable of.” He is right, of course, but on the grand scale of things, none of it matters.
Violence done out of honor or good, or violence done in the name of sick desires… it doesn’t change the actions and variables in the equations.
We’re all the same, even if we have different justifications for our crimes. “You will end her nightmare once and for all,” Emilio says and squeezes my shoulder. “I just hope you know what you are doing.”
“Everything is going well.”
Emilio chuckles, although it lacks any humor. “You intend to live a double life, my friend. But things like that have the tendency to come to light. What will happen when Lila knows the truth?”
She won’t ever know it, because my alter ego will never touch her. She is so pure and so beautiful, something that solely belongs to me and is not tarnished by the horrific events in my past. The only source of light in my darkness, and she deserves to keep it.
After what those men made her go through, the truth about me would devastate her. “Don’t worry, Emilio. Tonight, it will be over.”
“For them. But not for you,” he replies, and with one last squeeze, he leaves me alone while I give the man in the park two more hours to enjoy his life.
Not for his sake, no. I’m not that fucking generous. But for the little boy who watches his father with so much awe it reminds me of me.
And I hope this boy will never find out what kind of man sired him, because living with such knowledge is almost unbearable.
I’m the living example of that.
* * *
Lila
“Oh my God!” Sorcha squeals, covering her mouth with her hands when she scans me from head to toe. “This is the one. You are so pretty!” With a deep breath, I spin around and gasp at my reflection in the big-ass mirror, almost mesmerized by the stunning woman looking back at me.
The off-the-shoulder, pearl-white ballgown with a tulle lace train streams down my figure, hugging it in all the right places while presenting me in a dream-like light, as if I’m some kind of princess from a fairytale. It gives my waist an edge and boosts up my breasts, making them seem bigger. “We have a veil for that too,” the sales woman says, coming closer. I nod, giving her permission to pin it to my hair and place it over my face, finishing the look in a chic way. I almost remind myself of the Hollywood starlets from the ’50s. “I think it’s the perfect choice,” the saleswoman compliments me and then disappears behind the door, while I keep watching myself in the mirror, twirling back and forth, falling in love with this look more and more.
While originally I didn’t want anything fancy and was ready to marry him in any of my dresses, my friend told me I was an idiot and signed me up for my first fitting. And in moments like this one, I adore the fact she is my friend, because sometimes she knows me better than I do.
I’m a rock-and-roll artist chick through and through, but the idea of being something special for just one day… it’s amazing.
“Eugene will melt when he sees you walking down the aisle.” Sorcha sighs. “Weddings are the best.”
I rearrange the veil on my head and glance at her over my shoulder. “Oh, is that why you and Emilio ran away to Vegas and got blessed by Elvis?” I ask, and she throws a candy wrapper at me, but I step back just in time to avoid it. “Guess not.”
“Ha, ha. How long will those jokes about eloping continue?” She crosses her arms and huffs, but I laugh, because seeing her all worked up over this is truly hilarious.
Tapping my chin, I muse, “Well, given the fact that we are best friends and had a pact to be each other’s bridesmaids.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I wiggle my finger. “Nah uh. And that I wasn’t even invited… plus, Eugene is Emilio’s friend…. Yeah, I don’t see the jokes stopping any time soon,” I say, with her death glare shooting arrows into me. “Objections?”
She exhales heavily and ruffles her hair. “You’ve presented valid points, so… no.” She dashes toward me and wraps her hands around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder as we both look at our reflections. “I’m so happy for you, babe.”
I place my hand on hers and nod. “I’m happy for you too. Who would have thought we’d find perfect men, huh?” She chuckles but then squeezes me tighter, and I joke with her. “Hard to breathe.” But she doesn’t let go.
Instead, she whispers for my ears only, and her words send confusion spiraling through me, as none of it makes sense. “I hope you will always be happy, no matter what you uncover.”
“What?” Puzzlement laces my tone, but she exhales heavily and shakes her head. “Just decided to give you some advice before the wedding.” She wiggles her brows, and I still see traces of something in her eyes, but I can’t name it because she covers it well. “Did you invite your parents?”
I tense in her arms and clear my throat, stepping forward to adjust the dress a little bit. “We have to, since Eugene insisted on this big event.” No matter how much
I wanted to narrow down the guest list, he wouldn’t budge. It’s important for him to make it a great event, period.
The only argument I’ve managed to win is the whole walking down the aisle with my father thing. I don’t want him to give me away, because our bond is beyond saving. “This should be fun, since Emilio’s dad is coming too.”
“Imagine.” Despite their bad reputation and less than stellar dealings, the Giovannis are actually pretty awesome people with their own moral code and values. While no one will ever call them perfect, I’m glad they are in my life.
Family is not only an environment you are born into. No, family is made out of people who love and care about you no matter what, and who are always there for you. When you are happy and when you are sad; and while sometimes I wish my parents had more feelings toward me, it no longer saddens me, as I have my own family.
My man and everything in this world are different.
The soft music is cut off by urgent news when the speaker’s voice breaks the serenity in the room and sends chills down my spine. “Another victim, this time Ben Herkins, was found in the river. The Hudson River Hunter continues to—”
The sales woman quickly switches it off, giving us an apologetic smile. “I’ll find something better. This kind of news shouldn’t be in the bridal salon.” She settles on some classical tunes and rushes out once again.
Sorcha rubs my spine, worriedly searching my face for any kind of sadness. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, cracking my thumbs. “I mean… it’s…. Ugh.” I drop onto the couch, exhaling loudly, and she joins me, ready to listen as always. “I hate them for everything they’ve done. Especially when you know Sam’s dad managed to shut my dad up. But—” I lick my dry lips and rest my head on the back of the couch. “—I never wished them dead. But somehow, knowing they’re dead… I’m glad,” I say, and guilt immediately sinks into me, because isn’t that a vile thing to think?