Until Tomorrow Comes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Beauty in Lies Book 1)

by Adelaide Forrest

  The exaggeration coated my skin, feeling like an odd compliment. I wanted him to be jealous. I wanted him to feel territorial over me, because it meant that I was more than just a single night.

  Even if it couldn't actually last, it would give me some peace to know that maybe he'd think about me after I was gone.

  He turned me away from him, touching the soapy loofa to my shoulder and gliding it down my arm until every inch was covered in suds. Switching hands, he did it with the other arm, sliding it around to the front of my body.

  My nipples pebbled beneath the touch as the abrasive surface scraped them, and he covered my torso in bubbles as he pressed his body to mine. His length curved along my spine, cementing his desire for me as he moved the loofa lower and nudged my feet apart slightly so he could clean me.

  I blushed at the intimate act, unable to stop myself from leaning further back into him.

  "How could anyone ever compare to you, Isa?" he asked, the particular use of my name helping to further soothe my frayed edges. Princesa was beautiful. It reminded me of our different worlds, but the cynical voice in my head wondered if he'd ever used it with someone else.

  Isa was me. At the very least, I'd been memorable enough to remember my name.

  As soon as he finished cleaning me, he made quick work of washing himself with the loofa in one hand while his other delved into my core. "Are you sore?" he murmured, his voice skating across my cheekbone as he nipped my skin playfully.

  I nodded ruefully, genuinely regretful that I didn't think I could give him a second round. I'd already made the mistake of having a one-night stand. I couldn't imagine a second round would have made me feel worse about myself when I walked out of his penthouse and never saw him again. "Yes," I whispered on a gasp as he spread my lips with two fingers and nudged my clit gently. Even the tiny touch made my hips jerk back into him as he tossed the loofa to the side.

  He wrapped his other arm around me, taking a nipple between his fingers and pinching lightly while he dragged his teeth over the side of my neck. "I'm sorry I was too rough," he said. His fingers prodded my entrance, testing my reaction as I jerked in his grip, before gliding back up to circle my clit with firm sweeps.

  "I liked it," I answered on a breathless sigh.

  "You did." He breathed against my skin, grinding himself into my spine as he raised his hand from between my thighs and touched his fingers to my mouth. They smelled like me as he pressed inside, forcing my lips to part so he could rest them on my tongue while he watched my face. Pulling them free, he slid them back to my center and went back to working me with firm circles that drove me toward madness as he turned my head toward him and leaned forward to bite my bottom lip between his teeth. "Your pretty little pussy is going to come for me," he groaned as he pulled back. "And then I want your mouth."

  My eyes tracked downward, even though I couldn't actually see him. When my eyes met his again, they were filled with amusement. "I don't know how to do that."

  "I'll teach you, Princesa." He slid a single finger inside me, using his thumb at my clit as his mouth moved to mine and devoured me. I moaned into his mouth, my hips moving of their own volition as my orgasm crashed over me from the pain that finger added to the pleasure he gave me. My vision went white, my body going slack in his arms, and if he hadn't held me up, I might have fallen to the shower floor as my legs turned to jelly beneath me.

  He waited until my eyes fluttered open to find him watching me. His face was oddly focused on mine, so much that I flushed my embarrassment. He turned me in his arms; the water spraying down on my side as I glanced down at him. With a firm hand on my shoulder, he pressed me down until I dropped to my knees. I drew in a ragged breath as I came face to face with it for the first time. Hard and angry, veins ran up the side of his length and the head was a purple color. Looking tormented and desperate. I swallowed, reaching up a hand to wrap around him, a surprised gasp slipping free when it twitched in my grip.

  I slid my hand over him slowly, the water from the shower aiding the motion as I looked up at him. "Isa," he warned, touching the back of my head and tangling his hand in my hair. He pushed me in, moving cautiously, but his grip was unrelenting as I angled him down with my hand and parted my lips. His head slid inside, the unique flavor of him exploding in my mouth as he thrust forward shallowly and gave me more of him. I drew back, releasing him uncertainly as I ran my tongue over my lips. "Again," he ordered. I did, taking him to the point just before I thought I might gag and pulling back, never letting him leave the haven of my mouth as I repeated the motion at his firm urges on the back of my head. "Fuck," he groaned, drawing a moan from me that vibrated around the length of him.

  I watched as he bit his lip harshly, the skin staying indented when he finally released it. Pulling at my hair, he tugged me back until he slid free and touched his thumb to my lip, dragging it to the side and staring at my mouth with fascinating fervor. That thumb trailed down to my throat as he wrapped his hand around the front and gently pressed. "You're going to take my cock in your throat now, mi princesa," he murmured as my eyes went wide. He released my throat, prying my hand off his cock and angling it to my mouth. The tip touched my lips while I hesitated, something dangerous slithering through his eyes while I watched.

  I swallowed back the nerves I felt seeing it, opening my mouth so he could press inside. He moved in, gliding over my tongue and hitting the spot where I gagged around him. "Swallow," he ordered, pushing more firmly. I struggled to figure out how, shaking my head lightly and moving to pull back, but he abandoned his grip on himself to grab the back of my head again and hold me still. My eyes watered as I looked up at him, finally relaxing my throat enough to swallow around him.

  He pushed deeper, making shallow thrusts that kept him locked inside my throat. My lungs heaved with the need for air, his hand pressing tighter as if he could feel himself there. Phantom shadows hovered at the edge of my vision. He watched my face, finally pulling free and letting me breathe. I sucked back air desperately, staring up at him while he watched me. Even knowing that he would deprive me of air, even knowing that the phantoms would come back, I opened for him and let him push deep. He stroked himself inside my mouth, moving my head forward and back at a furious pace while he held my gaze with determination.

  When he shoved into my throat, I swallowed his intrusion as he let out a quiet groan and pulled me to his groin. Too full, I pressed my hands against his thighs in protest as he spilled himself down my throat.

  My nails dug into his thighs, marking them with red streaks until he finally let go and I pulled back until he slipped free. He cupped my chin and ran his thumb over my lip again as I caught my breath and swallowed back the sting in my throat. "Esta boca será mi muerte," he groaned.

  I didn't even know what the words meant, but they brought a flush to my face anyway as he helped me up from my aching knees and plundered my mouth as if he didn't care what I'd done with it.

  As if it was his, and he'd do as he damn well pleased, regardless.

  His white dress shirt hung down to my knees, and I glanced at the dress and bathing suit he'd folded and draped over a chair in the dining room. Wearing his clothes shouldn't have felt so intimate, not when I'd had him inside me.

  Not when he'd been in my mouth.

  He'd thrown open the glass door panels that folded to the side, letting the ocean breeze blow through the suite. With only gray shorts covering his bottom half and his chest bare, he moved to the suite door when the knock came and let a staff member come inside with a cart. I squirmed uncomfortably, looking up at Rafe when he moved into the room with the other man. While the staff deposited my cell phone on the table without another word and worked to unload covered dishes onto the table in front of us, Rafe's hand came down on the back of my chair. His other reached around to the front, grasping my chin and bending me back until I stared up at him. I pulled the shirt down, trying to keep my thighs covered. His gaze went to them, turning knowing as he tormented me
and leaned in to press a wet kiss against my mouth.

  If I hadn't known better, it would have felt like a claim.

  But the staff member’s eyes never even glanced our way as he pulled the covers off the plates and went back to his cart with nervous movements that clanged dishes against each other. He nodded but never dared a glance.

  "Señor Ibarra," he said, moving to the door and disappearing.

  As soon as he released my face, I scowled up at him. "That was cruel. I'm not even wearing underwear! He could have seen my, my—" I stuttered.

  "Your pussy?" he asked, his gaze going dark even as his mouth smiled. "I would never let another man lay eyes on your pussy, Princesa."

  "Then why did you let him in here with me half naked?" I whispered. Something was wrong in his gaze, something sinister lurking in the multicolored depths as he settled in the chair at the head of the table beside me.

  "You could have been entirely naked, and he wouldn't have so much as glanced at you."

  "But why?" I asked, watching as he used the utensils to place a piece of rustic toast with tomato and some kind of meat on it onto the plate in front of me.

  "Because I told him not to," he said with a shrug. To be in a world where someone wouldn't even look at a person just because he was told not to? I felt like I'd walked into an episode of the twilight zone.

  I swallowed as he cut off a portion of the potato omelet and dropped it on my plate. "So, Rafe Ibarra?" I asked, deciding to change the subject. A one-night stand wouldn't be an appropriate time to tell him to reevaluate the way he ordered people around, so I had to work around how heavy that felt in my gut.

  "Rafael Ibarra, if you want to be technical," he said, glancing up at me with a serious look, as if waiting for a moment of recognition that didn't come.

  "I'm sorry. I don't know anyone in Ibiza. Is that a name I should recognize?" I asked shyly, taking a sip of my freshly squeezed orange juice.

  He shook his head with a broad smile. "No. I like that you do not know of me," he said. The words felt like the truth, not like something he said to placate me.

  I refrained from asking more, deciding I would simply Google the name after we went our separate ways, but that brought another question to the forefront of my mind. "I'm a little surprised I'm still here," I admitted. "What am I still doing here?" I asked, picking up my fork and bringing a bite of the omelet to my mouth. I groaned the second the flavor exploded on my tongue, and his eyes dropped to my mouth as I chewed.

  Feeling suddenly shy as his eyes darkened and he pressed his lips together while he watched me, I recognized that it felt similar to how he watched me in the shower. My fork fell to the plate with a clatter as I took another sip of water.

  "How long are you in Ibiza?" he asked, picking up his fork with a smirk that made me clench my thighs together. It was so sinful, such an arrogant tip of his lips that displayed how much he enjoyed the way he affected me.

  I'd have been lying if I said there wasn't something captivating about knowing he wanted me. That he looked at me and thought about my mouth or about being inside me. Under any normal circumstances, I might have doubted the thoughts swirling inside his head. I might have questioned if he could possibly want me the way I wanted him. But Rafe left no doubt. Even when he didn't speak the words, his eyes and body spoke for him.

  His eyes very rarely left me, his stare probing and intense in a way I'd never experienced. If he was a businessman, I imagined it served him well as an intimidation tactic. With me, it convinced me to take my clothes off and give him things I had no right to give.

  "Nine days. I fly home early on the twenty-fifth," I said, taking another bite of omelet.

  "Your plans?" He didn't eat, too focused on watching me. It made me stop eating myself, feeling unnerved by the conversation for reasons I couldn't explain. It was innocent enough. Small talk, really. But something about his stare felt meaningful, like we stood at a precipice and there would be no going back.

  "Some sightseeing. The beach. I'm sure my friends will drag me to some clubs," I said with a shrug.

  He reached across the corner of the table, catching my chin between his fingers and leaning close as he rested his elbow on the surface. "Do you really want to spend your time in the typical tourist attractions and parties where you can't take a breath without someone bumping into you? Or do you want me to show you the real Ibiza? The Ibiza I love?"

  "What, for nine days?" I asked with a laugh. "Why would you want to do that?"

  There was a pause before his answer, his forehead creasing as he huffed a disbelieving breath. "I enjoy being with you. Is that so wrong?"

  "You barely know me," I pointed out, ever the pessimist. He'd likely tire of my more reserved behavior and wish he'd chosen someone more adventurous to spend his time with than me.

  "I'd like to remedy that," he said. I crossed my legs, leaning back from his touch while his fingers snapped together once I removed my chin. He scowled at the distance between us, leaning back in his chair. "It's your decision, Princesa," he said carefully with a soft voice. His cell vibrated on the table, and he turned a glare to it before heaving a sigh. "I need to take this. Make the right choice," he said, standing from the table and making his way out onto the balcony that wrapped around the suite as he answered and barked orders in Spanish. He pulled the glass panels closed behind him, cutting off his voice as I stared at him in shock.

  Nine days with a man who tempted all the parts of me I should push back into the cage. Ten days with a man who could show me everything.

  He could show me places I'd only ever dreamed of seeing, teach me things I'd never be brave enough to ask for back home.

  I should have listened to the warning in my head. The nagging sense that I'd never want to leave when he finished with me.

  I didn't.

  9

  Rafael

  "Qué?" I asked, my blood boiling as Javier, one of my men working security at the hotel, spoke on the other end of the line.

  "One of our guys spotted Pavel’s errand boy lurking in the lobby and at the pool area. He appears to be waiting for something, presumably you, since you haven't come downstairs yet today," Javier said. "How would you like me to handle it?" he asked, rattling off the words in Spanish quickly.

  "Don't. I'll handle this." I'd given explicit instructions that I was to be undisturbed during my time with mi princesa, and only the morning after procuring her, I had to deal with an overzealous Russian pig who needed to have been euthanized a decade prior.

  "What of mi reina?" he asked.

  "She's to remain in the penthouse," I said. "Is he still in the lobby?"

  "Yes," Javier answered. Not needing to know anything more, I accepted the unfortunate reality that I'd need to spend a little time away from Isa in order to clear up the rest of our day. Ending the call, I walked back into the suite with my phone in hand. Isa hadn't moved since I’d left her, deep in thought as she considered my proposition. The sudden urge to say fuck it all and drag her to El Infierno kicking and screaming threatened my patience, brought to the surface by her indecision.

  What was so horrible about spending nine days in paradise with me?

  "I need to run downstairs to deal with some unexpected business," I said, trying to keep the bite from my tone. "Stay here until I get back." I turned, making my way for the bedroom, and she pushed her chair back suddenly to follow me. Her skin whispered in my shirt as it brushed against her bare thigh, that scar taunting me.

  There was something I didn't know about my Isa, and the thought unsettled me far more than was normal. "Maybe I should go see my friends. Talk to them about your offer. I don't want them to worry," she said, toying with the end of the sleeve nervously.

  "You'll stay here until I get back. I promise to be quick." I stripped my shorts off while she watched nervously, pulling trousers off a hanger and stepping into them with hurried movements. "If you still want to leave when I get back, then I'll take you home."

 
Her brow furrowed at the odd choice of words. Everyone knew that a hotel would never be home. She’d never know that I didn't mean her hotel. If she didn't want to spend more time with me, I wouldn't let her go.

  I'd take her to El Infierno and never let her leave.

  "I don't know that I'm comfortable being here alone," she said, glancing around the room. I sighed, understanding that she was largely put off by the luxury. Isa would have been far more comfortable in an average hotel room, not the penthouse of the finest hotel in Ibiza Town.

  "I'll be back before you know it," I said, stepping into her space and cupping her cheeks in my hands. She melted beneath the touch, staring up at me like I could be her entire world.

  I would be. If only she'd let me.

  I leaned closer, kissing her slowly to remind her of everything she stood to walk away from if she left. My hands held her still, and I kept my lips soft as I worshiped her mouth.

  It was the kind of kiss that could move mountains. The kind of kiss that changed futures. She sighed into me, her body going pliant as I stole the breath from her lungs and made it mine.

  When I finally pulled back, she swayed on her feet. Reaching up a hand to touch her lips, she watched me finish dressing. "Stay here," I said firmly one last time after I'd finished dressing and made my way toward the door of the bedroom.

  It killed me to leave her when all I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and show her why she was mine.

  I had to settle for taking out my rage that it wasn't possible on the asshole who took me away from her.

  I made my way into the elevator, jabbing the buttons with furious fingers to take me to the ground floor. Leaving Isa so soon made me wonder how I would ever tolerate being away from her again. Would it always make my skin pulse with the steady awareness that something was missing? Would the fact that mi princesa wasn’t in my arms where she belonged make everything else in my life but her a chore I merely had to complete so I could get back to her?