Chapter Thirteen
Sophia
Mom always used to tell me that Dad had used to take her to the opera when they were still dating. It was weird to think of a time when my parents weren’t married, but there had been. They had only taken me once or twice when I was younger, but ultimately started leaving me behind because it was difficult for kids to sit still through a multiple act performance, where the performers were singing weird songs and you couldn’t talk above a whisper. You never really appreciated things like operatic singing when you were a child.
I never really went to the Metropolitan Opera House for any reason. I had applied to cook at the Grand Tier before, but they had not gotten back to me. Effectively a rejection. This was totally Marcelo’s scene, but I was into it. There was obviously a reason why he had suggested we come here. He had fine taste in every other respect, why wouldn’t I like this. I wanted to trust his judgment, and about five minutes into the first act, I was glad that I had.
I don’t know what I had been expecting, but it was like an entire play, but grander. The story was gripping. By the time we got to the second act, I didn’t know if I’d end up running my mascara all the way down my cheeks from crying. I was overcome. There was no way that Marcelo could have known that that was the sort of reaction I would have had to the performance. There was no way I could have known. It felt amazing to think that he had wanted me to see this. Maybe I was giving him too much credit for being thoughtful and considerate, but I barely gave him anything at all. It was our first date, and it was going great.
The singing was enough really. It was more than enough, but then he had started kissing me and asking whether I was okay. Okay? I was at the opera with my gorgeous husband. He had asked me out. We were acting like normal newlyweds. I was more than okay. I was fucking elated.
And then Marcelo had… oh, my god. I blushed to think about it after the fact. With the dress, I had worn it was practically bound to happen. His hand had slid up my leg and he had pleasured me during the second act of ‘Tristan und Isolde’ at the Met. He had licked his fingers clean, tasting me afterward as if it was nothing. I was done. I was officially tapped out. There was no way I could have paid attention to the show after that.
I wanted to give him something. Getting his dick out of his pants would have been slightly harder than it had been for him to get under my dress. Whom was I kidding? We couldn’t stay here. I didn’t want to jerk him off. I wanted to give him more. Honestly, I wanted him to give me more, too.
What the hell was wrong with me? Was it because I was pregnant? Pregnant women apparently desired sex more than when they weren’t pregnant, but this was just… this was just something else. Maybe he derived some pleasure from getting me off, but the fact was that he had. He had made me come, and it had just gotten me hotter than before.
He had called me his ‘frigid wife’ before, and admittedly, sometimes I was deserving of the title. Who knew? Depriving Marcelo of sex was depriving myself of opportunities like this. He was a man and I was a woman, the only man and woman available to each other to take care of things of this nature. It didn’t really occur to me that there was an element of my husband that truly wanted to have sex because it would be pleasurable for me.
Men, a lot of them at least, had sex like they were the only ones trying to achieve something. I knew he definitely thought I was sexy; he looked at me like he did, but I looked at him like I did, too. It went without saying that he was more experienced than I was. I wasn’t a virgin. I was nearly thirty, of course, I wasn’t a virgin…but I didn’t like casual sex. I didn’t like feeling used, and I couldn’t get myself to reduce another person to purely someone I was fucking. I wanted to please Marcelo, but I also wanted him to please me. He had just fingered me in public…there was no way he didn’t want to go. I placed a hand on one of his legs and leaned into him. I very deliberately let my chest press against him.
“Let’s go home,” I whispered into his ear. He looked down at me.
“You don’t want to see the rest of the show?”
I shook my head.
“I want you to take me home,” I said. My other hand touched the side of his face, feeling his rough stubble under my fingers. I ran my hand down his neck and over his suit jacket.
“Oh yeah?” He was interested.
“I want you to take me home, and when we get there, I want you to lead me upstairs,” I said.
“Go on,” he said gruffly.
“I want you to lead me upstairs, and I want you to fuck me in our bed.” Marcelo smirked hearing me speak like that. If he was surprised, he didn’t look it. He looked aroused.
“How do you want me to take you?” he asked. I didn’t have to think about this one.
“Hard. Dirty. Deep. Any way you want,” I said simply. Marcelo’s dark eyes burned like hot coals. He was on his feet, pulling me up with him in seconds. I had to trot to keep up with him. I didn’t care how we looked fleeing the opera like that, my mind was set on one thing, finding out exactly how hard, dirty, and deep he wanted to fuck me.
Chapter Fourteen
Marcelo
I pulled her into our room and shut the door. She bent down to start taking her heels off.
“Stop. Keep them on. Take your panties off but leave everything else on.”
I walked over to the vanity and dragged the chair away, across the room facing our bed.
“Sit,” I told her, as I stripped my jacket off. I removed my cummerbund and bowtie as well and rolled the sleeves of my shirt up. My boner was so distracting I could hardly drive us back here. I sat on the bed facing her. The bedside lamps were on so I could see her. I couldn’t stop thinking about what she had told me. Any way I wanted. Sophia was innocent, that was part of her charm, but I was different. You couldn’t tell me something like that and expect me not to take full advantage of it.
“Legs apart. Spread your legs apart and move your dress. I want to see your pussy,” I growled. I could see her swallow and slowly part her thighs. She was nervous, but she was doing it. Her lips glistened in the lamplight. She was just as hot as I was. I reached for her panties which were on the bed and watched her face as I brought them to my nose and inhaled. Her lips parted and her eyes flashed.
“Come on, babe. Touch yourself. I want to watch.”
She paused before she put her hands to her lips and parted them, massaging her clitoris in small circles. Her body responded to her own touch. She sighed sensuously and parted her legs further.
“Taste yourself,” I instructed. She immediately brought the hand she was using to pleasure herself up to her mouth and sucked on her fingers. She moaned softly before putting the hand back and resuming her actions, going faster as she approached orgasm. I grabbed a pair of opera glasses I snagged from the show and watched her. I smiled seeing her reaction to seeing them. Her cheeks turned pink and the blush went all the way down her neck, to her chest, just above her tits.
“Pull the top of your dress down; I want to see you.”
She tugged the top of her dress with her free hand, revealing her breasts. They moved with her quick breath—up and down—as she masturbated in front of me.
“You look gorgeous, Sophia. I’m rock hard just looking at you. Fuck yourself with your fingers,” I instructed. She followed, inserting two of her fingers into her slick, waiting vagina. She drove her fingers in and out fast, doing to herself what I had done not even an hour ago.
“Imagine I’m fucking you right now. Can you feel my lips on your nipples? Can you feel how fast and hard I’m fucking you, Sophie?”
She was coming undone. Her breathing was erratic and her free hand had joined the first one between her legs, rotating circles over her clit.
“That’s right, you’re close. Come for me, babe. Let me see you.” A cry passed her lips as she shuddered. She had finished. She removed her fingers from inside of her and sucked them while she looked at me. I dropped the glasses and walked up to her. My erection protruded rude
ly in the front of my pants. I pulled her up out of the chair and kissed her roughly. I could taste her salty sweetness on her tongue. I spun her around so her back was to me.
“How many guys have ever fucked you like this?” I asked her.
“None,” she said. I quickly pulled my dick out of my clothes and pressed it into her so she could feel how hard she had gotten me.
“Bend over,” I told her. She braced her arms on the chair so her beautiful ass was up. I gently pulled her cheeks apart and squeezed. I ran my thumb along her crack. She gasped when I ran it over her tight little balloon knot. I teased it, making her push her ass backward into me.
“Uh, Marcelo, please,” she said.
Who was I to tell the nice lady no? I slid into her pussy in one smooth stroke.
“Yes… uh, yes,” she moaned. I held her hips and fucked her. She didn’t want nice; she didn’t want slow. I would give her what she asked for. I licked my thumb and teased her rosebud, making her squeal. I heard the chair squeak against the floor as it moved from the force of my thrusts. I fed it to her long and hard while I pushed my thumb past her barrier. She screamed. I knew I could get it out of her, but she surprised me whenever we slept together.
Her pussy was tight and snug. I tried to hold off as long as I could, but I knew I didn’t have much longer in me. When her walls clenched down as she had her release, I was done. I spurted inside of her. I pulled her up gently and unzipped her dress, so it fell to the ground.
I held her hips and gently pulled her up against me. I swooped her hair over her shoulder so I could kiss the back of her neck. I didn’t know how she would react. A lot of women liked doggy, but Sophia and I had never done it before just then. Some girls thought it was impersonal because you couldn’t see the person…more specifically, they couldn’t see me, but that sometimes was the best part. Sophia was fucking gorgeous; I could look at her all day. Her skin tone was completely even over her whole body. No tan lines anywhere, even though our honeymoon had been in Hawaii. I wanted to fuck her in every way known and unknown to man. That body, every part of her was mine to enjoy, and I was going to enjoy it, dammit.
She had thrown herself at me today. She had never wanted me more, and I was not going to be the fool who said no to her when she was like that. I liked pleasing her. I liked giving it to her the way that she wanted. She turned around and put her arms around my neck. She kissed me sweetly.
“Let’s go take a shower,” she said with a smile.
Fuck me. It was like the hotel all over again. Who was this woman? This woman who was so pleased to be with me and let me touch her without downing a bottle of wine first. I liked her. I wasn’t sure how she would react to being fucked from behind, but she seemed to like it. I liked it, too. I liked this version of Sophia. She was fun.
“Together?” I asked her.
“Mm-hmm.”
Our shower had multiple heads, so when you stood under it, it felt like it was raining. I calibrated the heat and the intensity while she stood at the sink taking her makeup off. I had watched her do it before, once or twice. This was probably part of her nightly routine, most likely, and we were just never really in the bathroom at the same time for me to see it. She didn’t typically wear that much makeup, or at least she had not much of a reason to because she wasn’t working. I could tell when she had more on than was typical because her freckles would disappear. We had both dressed up that night for the opera, but she didn’t need all that shit on her face to make herself attractive.
Her reflection in the mirror smiling at me showed me that she could see me staring at her. I smiled back. I reached out an arm, welcoming her to join me. Under the water, the curls I had watched her carefully work on before the date flattened as her hair became plastered to her body.
“Marcelo, I have to tell you something,” she said. Her back was to me. Her hands were lathering shampoo through her hair. I reached for her, running my fingers through her hair, feeling her scalp.
“What is it?” I asked. She had so many soaps and lotions for everything. I always saw them in the shower but never knew what the hell they were all for. The smell in the shower was a mix of fruity and sweet, and woodsy and masculine, her bodywash and mine. She squeezed something into her hand and started putting it through her hair. There were more steps? She faced me.
“Turn around,” she said. She squeezed whatever it was that she had just put in her hair into her hand again and started running it through my hair.
“What is that?” I asked. It smelled the way her hair did. Tropical fruit and jasmine.
“Conditioner,” she said. I was in such a good mood I didn’t even try to stop her. It felt sort of nice. She finished and ran her fingers through my hair, rinsing it out.
She hugged me from behind.
“Remember when we were at the hotel?” she asked.
“Which one?”
“The last one. Just before we came home?”
“What about it?”
“When we were there I… I took a pregnancy test.”
A what? Why would she do that? I knew why she would do that…but why would she do that.
“And the result was?”
“Positive, Marcelo. I’m going to have a baby.” I gently released her arms from around me and turned to face her. The shower was still running, but we were done, so I turned it off, just for something to do really. The extra few seconds it would take to do that giving me a few more seconds to process what she had just said to me.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I haven’t been to the doctor since we got back home, but I’m sure.”
I was at a loss. Speechless. What the hell was I supposed to do or say to that?
Pregnant?
I was and wasn’t surprised at the same time.
She was looking up at me like she was waiting for a reaction. For the first time in my life, I had nothing. I knew I had to say something. A girl couldn’t stand there and tell you they are carrying your child and you just stand there silent. Women had tried that line with me before, but I was always careful. Sophia and I, however, had never had sex with a condom.
I must have stayed silent too long.
“Are you mad?” she asked me. What a good question. Was I mad? No, I wasn’t mad, but I wasn’t particularly happy about the news either. I looked at her. God, she looked so worried. I took one of her hands.
“No, I’m not mad,” I told her.
She sighed, relieved. She leaned up and kissed me. I let her. I was being honest. I wasn’t mad, but how did she feel about it. She was obviously a little worried to tell me, but she wasn’t really dwelling on it. Wasn’t this the part when we decided we would talk about our options?
“Have you been feeling sick?” I asked her.
“No, mostly just tired.”
Tired. I was tired, too. That was likely why I thought she had just told me that we were pregnant. It would be different in the morning. This night had been so great; it had to have been a dream. That’s it. A dream…
I leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Let’s go to bed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sophia
I lay awake in bed, listening to Marcelo get ready. It was early. It had to be earlier than usual because I tended to get up before him. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep. Did he have a meeting that morning? Why was he up so early?
It wasn’t because of what I had told him last night, was it?
He had said he wasn’t mad.
He had said he wasn’t mad, but then he hadn’t said what he did feel. His face had been blank. I could have told him that the sky was blue and he would have had the same nonplussed reaction. Did he just say that because he didn’t want to make me upset? Was he actually mad?
The only way to know for sure would be to ask him, but what if he just said what he had said the night before again?
Like he sensed me thinking about him, I
felt his hand on my hair, he smoothed it off my face and kissed my forehead. I opened my eyes slowly and looked up at him like I had just woken up.
“Marcelo?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you, babe. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.” His hand stroked my hair, and he kissed my forehead again. He made to leave, but I held onto him.
“It’s early, come back to bed,” I said. He sat on the bed next to me and looked down at me, stroking my cheek with his thumb.
The Don's Baby: A Bad Boy Romance Page 11