Till Death

by Alessandra Torre

  The limo, sent from Atlantis, was laughable—a ten-year old Lincoln with worn seats, ripped carpet, and a back window held together by a strip of duct tape. I shot Nathan a worried look and he grinned, placing a gentle hand on my back and guiding me in to the car. “Don’t worry,” he said. “These guys are subcontractors for the resort. It will get better.”

  And better it did. From the two hundred foot yachts cozied up outside of the towering casino walls to the gold columns, arched ceilings, and hand-painted murals decorating the lobby walls. We took the scenic route down to the pool deck, walking through a stone cavern of fish tanks, giant manta rays traveling alongside us as we walked hand in hand. I tried to contain my glee, tried to maintain an air of aloof snobbery, but failed miserably, shrieking with excitement as a shark swam by, and oohing with delight at the beautiful actions of glowing jellyfish.

  When we crossed a rope bridge over lazy hammerhead sharks, when my feet sank into warm white sand, a tropical paradise of perfect blue green water before me, I couldn’t help the grin that stretched my face, that took every square inch of real estate up as it beamed. I wrapped my arms around Nathan’s neck, catching him by surprise, my lips pressing exuberantly to him, his mouth widening into a smile beneath mine.

  “You like?” he whispered.

  “I love,” I shot back, jumping up and wrapping my legs tightly around him, my momentum knocking him off balance and taking us down to the ground, my mouth pestering him for another kiss, his laugh catching us both off guard and giving me full access to his mouth.

  The moment changed, heating the sand, his hands traveling roughly down, gripping my sundress covered ass and pulling me upward and into his body, the line of his arousal suddenly hot against my sex.

  The click of lenses is what pulled us out of the moment, no flashbulbs needed, the glare of the sun light enough. He rolled with me, sitting up on his knees, brushing sand gently off of my skin and offering me a hand. I gratefully accepted, letting him help me to my feet, him pulling me in for one more kiss, a playful smile on his lips. “Let’s go to the room,” he said hoarsely, his eyes darkening. “I need you. Now.”

  And we ran, sandy flip flops slapping bare rock, my smile lasting through two elevators, one long ass hallway, and onto the giant bed in our luxurious penthouse suite.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Are you having a good time?” He asks me over an ice-cold bottle of Kalik.

  “Considering all we’ve done is have one incredible fuck, yes. Thank you for asking, Mr. Dumont. Excellent trip planning.” I grin, taking a mouthful of conch and settling back in my chair, savoring the buttery taste of perfection.

  “We also took the limo ride,” he pointed out with his fork.

  “Oh … yes. The limo ride. How could I forget that death defying journey?” The limo driver had seemed to have one main objective: speed. We passed more cars on a single-lane curve than I ever thought possible.

  “Any qualms about tomorrow?”

  “As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  His eyebrows rise questioningly. “Yes?”

  “First off, I just want to confirm that, upon our separation, you will continue to care for my father.”

  He winces slightly, enough to get my guard up and eyes blazing. “There is no chance of you continuing in the marriage?”

  I brush off the question with a shrug and a swig of my beer. “I’ll let you know that after this weekend. I need more time to think on that. More time with this …” I gesture with my fork. “Nathan. I’m not used to him yet.”

  He grins. “Point well taken. I’ll try not to bend you over in front of any large groups of people while we are here.”

  I frown, the joke hitting a little close to home, reminding me of my lips on a stranger’s cock—Nathan’s hand sliding up the back of my dress as I sucked. The problem was two-fold. I hated being used, being told what to do, but I had grown wet during the experience, his authoritative instruction as I sucked Raul incredibly erotic in its commanding tone. I try to refocus, to move my thoughts back to where I am, on my fairytale dream date. “Back to my father.”

  He shrugs, cutting into his steak. “You saw the amendment my attorney made. Your father is officially my life-long dependent. I will support any medical expenses while he is sick—once he improves, I will cover his living expenses, up to seven thousand dollars a month.”

  “I saw the amendment when I signed it. I just want to make sure that you are okay with it. I don’t want you to feel forced into anything.”

  “The money you are helping me recover will more than cover it. Thank you for your concern,” he says with one of his smirks, the kind that make me want to yank open his fly and suck his cock right here.

  “There is a second condition,” I say casually, dipping a piece of bread in olive oil.

  “And when did you decide upon a second demand?” he asks wryly.

  “Pretty much an hour ago. It involves our sleeping arrangements.”

  His grin drops, his eyes watching me closely, the laughter gone from them.

  “If you want me to help you tomorrow, then I want to sleep with you both nights. Not in the second bedroom of the suite. In your bed.”

  It shouldn’t be an outlandish request. It should be something he agrees to easily, without hesitation, considering the fifty million dollars at stake—a lifetime of wealth. But I can see from his eyes, from his tight jaw and the hesitation with which he speaks, that this is difficult for him.

  “Why is that important to you?” he speaks quietly, and I lean forward slightly to hear the words.

  I didn’t mean for my demand to kill the spirit of the evening, to cause his eyes to darken and smile to drop. I almost want to take it back, to shrug and tell him to forget it, to forget I even mentioned it. But I want at least one night. At least one night of his arms around me, his bare skin relaxing next to mine. I only have one carrot to dangle—a carrot that will disappear tomorrow morning. This is my only chance. I have to take it.

  I swallow the final sip of beer, smiling gratefully when the waiter appears with a fresh one, a flash of white teeth appearing in a dark face, and then we are alone again. “I know that you are emotionally unavailable; it’s not about that.” A complete lie. It’s all about that. “It’s just been a long time since I … had someone to sleep with. I feel so disconnected, us spending time together and then going to separate rooms. For this trip, just these two nights, I’d like to spend them together. To pretend, for this short period, that we aren’t in some fucked up version of playing house. I can’t explain it, other than that it is important to me, and I need it to decide if I want to continue in the marriage.”

  He nods slowly, candlelight reflected in the blue of his eyes. “I understand loneliness. I ache for Cecile in a way that hurts. But, I hesitate for two reasons. One, I want to make sure that you know—”

  “I got the memo, Nathan,” I interrupt him crossly. “You don’t love me. Aren’t going to love me. I hear it loud and clear. A fucking cuddle session isn’t going to change that.”

  His reaction is so incredulous, so caught off guard that he just simply stares at me, his eyes turning playful as I watch them, a grin catching his mouth before he leans back and laughs. He shakes his head as he tries to contain himself, taking a swig of beer before looking at me sheepishly. “I’m being a little conceited, aren’t I?”

  I grin, glad that the dark cloud of mourning that I brought on has lifted. “A bit. You give one hell of a fuck, but yes, you aren’t that heartbreakingly lovable.”

  “Hey,” he said with a devilish wink. “Back at’cha. In regards to the fucking, that is.” He reaches forward, capturing my hand and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “As far as lovable, an unattached man would be insane not to fall head over heels for you.” As he brushed my knuckles with that delectable mouth, my heart tries hard not to trip over itself in an attempt at suicide.

  I tug on my hand, trying to salvage my most cr
ucial organ before it cuts itself into a million pieces. “And the second reason you hesitate to open up that sacred bed to me?”

  He hesitates. “When she comes back, I want to be able to tell her that any other women—you or anyone else I’ve been with—meant nothing to me. That I’ve been waiting for her. That it has been purely sex with them, nothing more.”

  Aw fuck … I can feel my heart implode, sobbing dramatically while sinking into a puddle inside my chest cavity. I busy myself with lobster, taking out my aggression on an innocent claw, trying to keep my face calm, and only half listening when he continues speaking.

  “But if it is important to you, I will do it. I need this money. There is a huge opportunity in Puerto Rico that I want to use this capital to take advantage of. Asking for two nights in bed is a small request on your part.”

  “And my father,” I remind him.

  “That part’s easy,” he said, taking the lobster from me and breaking it open with one carefree motion.

  Great. A long-term financial burden is easy. Two nights with me—that’s the part that he finds difficult.

  CHAPTER 14

  An hour later, my heart has forgiven him, aided by bottles and bottles of ice-cold Bahamian beer. The alcohol has loosened our tongues, words spilling across the table before either of us can hold them back. We have agreed, in one drunken toast, to open the vaults: either of us can ask any question and receive a full, unedited response. We started off friendly, but the questions had gotten dirtier and more personal as the beers kept coming.

  Nathan flips a bottle cap in my direction. “Worst strip club client ever?”

  I tilt my head. “My third week at the club, a husband proposed I join him and his wife for a threesome; I refused, the wife got offended, and sprayed me with a mini-Mace canister she had on her keychain. I looked like a crazy pyscho-stripper for the next three hours, my eyes bloodshot and face blotchy.” I grin at the memory, thinking about how close I came to quitting that night.

  I bite my lip, looking at Nathan. “What’s the story on Drew? What does he do for you?”

  He leaned forward. “Drew was a cop. When Cecile disappeared, I hired him to look for her full time. When Jennifer died, his job description changed. We came up with the plan to create a new Jennifer Dumont, and then he started looking for a suitable woman with the correct birthdate. You are his new job, or rather, were until you became too smart for your own good. He was supposed to keep you under control—happy. To keep you unaware.” He snorted. “A job he failed miserably at. But so what? Babysitting isn’t his forte. Now he is back to searching for Cecile.”

  “And Mark?”

  “I don’t like to be alone. You don’t like to sleep alone; I don’t like to be alone. A shrink would have a field day with that—blame it on Cecile’s abandonment. Whatever the reason, Mark handles most of the day to day business of the house and handles a lot of the overflow from my job—little errands that I don’t have time to take care of.” He shrugs, downing the rest of his beer. “Ever been in love?”

  Now it is my turn to shrug. “I guess I never met the right guy. A few crushes here or there. But the last three years hasn’t put me in the right situation. Most quality guys aren’t interested in dating a stripper.” I tilt my beer his direction. “Case in point.”

  He winces. “Touché, my wife.” The endearment rolls so easily off his tongue that we both startle at it. Then our eyes meet, and we laugh, him leaning forward, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me to him for a kiss.

  Spark. I can’t kiss this man without my insides melting and my heart awakening, popping its head up from its sea of despair and starting a slow and steady beat. He deepens our kiss, his other hand stealing into my hair, tugging on pins until my hair falls free. Somehow, we are standing, arched over the table, our mouths colliding in frantic passion. He pulls away, and I gasp for air. “Let’s go. I fucking need you right now.”

  We hurry, my heels removed, my hand tight in his, him pulling me down the halls, up the stairs and into the elevator, where my heels drop to the floor and his arms take me into his. Then, the doors open, and ten steps later, we are in our suite.

  I drop to my knees on the carpet, my hands keeping him close, my mouth begging for a taste of his cock. He stops me, tugging on my arms, and I resist, looking up at him. “Nathan, I need this. Please. Sucking your cock has been on my mind for over an hour.”

  He looks down at me, his face heavy in desire and want. “Trust me, I’m not stopping you. Move in front of the mirror so I can watch.” This time I move when he tugs, his hands pulling me over until we are both before the large mirror, his hands unzipping and reaching into his pants, my mouth dropping open when all of him is before me.

  Good Lord, he is magnificent. I move closer, devouring him with my eyes, barely feeling the tug of strings as Nathan unties the cords that hold up my dress, the material pooling around my knees when he is done. I hold him in my hand, gently gripping it, feeling the skin move around hard bone, his breath inhaling sharply when I squeeze. I hold it up, the area around it neat and well-manicured, his obsession with control encompassing his nether regions as well, everything perfect, framing a package which I can’t stop thinking about.

  I start at his base, trailing my tongue along the veins and bulges of his organ, my eyes glancing up to find him staring straight ahead into the mirror behind me, his hands gathering my hair, his expression strong and possessive. “God, I love … everything,” he groans, his eyes dropping to meet mine. “The curves of your back, the dimples above your ass … the feel of your wet tongue against my cock.”

  My tongue reaches the lip of his head, swirling around the base, and then I take it in my mouth, sucking it in and out, my hand gripping and tugging on his shaft, each downward pump hitting his balls. I move my hands, placing them on his thighs, tugging his pants down until they hit the floor, my hands sliding back up his bare legs as my mouth takes him deeper, wet sucks taking him to the back of my throat. His hand, gripped in my hair, hold me still and he takes over the motion. Gently thrusting his hips forward, pumping quickly, and then slowly, his eyes dark as he slowly withdraws, my lips tight around him as his cock leaves my mouth.

  “You will be the death of me,” he mutters, bending down and gripping my waist, lifting me easily up and walking me over to the bed. There, he repays me as we lay on our sides, facing each other. His mouth brushes my lips, kissing them softly, the hard length of him bumping tantalizingly against my legs as his fingers gently move over my pussy, teasing the velvet folds. My body arcs against him when he slips a crooked finger inside, the shot of electric pleasure causing me to gasp, his mouth curving into a smile against my neck, as his finger brushes gently over the spot that was made for this. My inner walls contract and lubricate, the spot beneath his fingers swelling.

  My fingers run down the planes of his body, traveling over the hard bone of his hip, moving down the V of his stomach until I reach my goal, my hands wrapping around him, my own mouth taking on a smile, my hand moving on its own accord, admiring the rigidness of his member as I explore its length. Our mouths find each other, a soft kiss turning deeper, our hands busy as we both move deeper into the sea of arousal.

  I break the kiss, the intensity of my climax too great, my eyes clenching shut as my body tightens, a stream of words spilling from my mouth, the warm chuckle of Nathan only increasing the pleasure. “Fuck, Nathan, don’t you fucking stop your fingers, oh god, I can’t, I swear, Iamaboutto …” My head drops back and I moan, sweet, pure intensity radiating out from deep inside of me, satisfaction of the most intense kind, all body function freezing as I enjoy the complete perfection of it.

  I am coming down from my high when his fingers stop, pulling out of me and I feel the wide girth of his head, pushing through my folds and thrusting inside, my wet hot center ready, expanding and contracting around him as he pushes deeper inside. I wrap my leg around him and he rolls, putting me on my back as his cock fully buries inside of me
.

  There, he takes control, his breath ragged as his cock sets a firm rhythm, his intensity taking me, as it always does, by surprise. Hard thrusts let me feel exactly how aroused he is, every stroke bringing a new burst of pleasure.

  I have fucked Nathan countless times. Standing, sitting, bent over or on his lap. But never this completely, never without an emotional wall of some sort between us, constructed either by him or me. This time, as his cock thrusts, as our eyes lock and our bodies move as one, my wall crumbles down. In this moment, he takes my heart as well as my body.

  For more of Nathan and Candace’s story, look for the fourth and final installment of The Dumont Diaries:

  DO US PART

  Available August 28th, 2013