“So whatever you’re doing, keep doing it,” Nadine said.
Chapter 24
Esteban walked through the house to the courtyard in the back. He’d had a long day, but already felt better walking into the house and knowing Sonia was there. He found her swimming laps in the Olympic-size pool.
Setting the snifter of brandy he’d poured himself on the patio table, he took a seat in one of the cushioned wicker chairs and stretched his legs. From here, he had a good view of her gliding through the water with graceful strokes.
She exercised regularly, jogging South Beach or Star Island, and when they traveled, she made use of the gyms at the hotels where they stayed, but she preferred to get her exercise outdoors. Sometimes they raced each other in the pool, and although she gave it her best, he always won. He was simply a better and stronger swimmer, and the one time he let her win, she’d not been pleased. It was one of the few times he ever saw her upset, because she usually kept a genial disposition.
He couldn’t have picked a better woman to be his mistress. His friends liked her, and his household staff loved her—clearly preferring her to him. His mouth turned into a wry twist. Dolores spoke fondly of her, and he was pretty sure Marta would adopt her if she could. She trusted Sonia completely. Both of his drivers, Abel and the one here, visibly lit up when she appeared. “Where to, ma’am?” Abel had asked one night, completely ignoring the fact that Esteban was standing right beside her.
Sonia cruised up and stood in the pool, resting her forearms on the edge. “How was your trip?” She sounded a little out of breath, but not winded.
“Very successful.” The meeting had gone surprisingly well, and the real estate developer, a man by the name of Renaldo, and his wife had agreed to come by for dinner. “I’m certain I’ll be able to seal the deal of opening two restaurants in their mixed-used developments—the one in São Paulo and the one they plan for here.”
“Are you coming in?”
“No. Why don’t you come out? I have something for you.” Esteban removed the dark, velvet-covered square box from his pocket and set it on the table.
His shaft twitched and became semi-hard as he watched her lift out of the water in a white bikini that fully covered her upper body but didn’t provide much support, leaving her breasts to hang like ripe fruit above her narrow waist. Smoothing a hand over her short hair, she squeezed out the excess water and then came toward him, droplets glimmering on her amber skin like jewels. She moved in a naturally seductive way, her full hips swaying with each step. Sensual, yet subtle. Not overly done, so it was clear that was her natural walk and not put on for effect. That made her sexier. She was magnificent.
Sonia wrapped a towel around her waist. “You don’t have to buy me something every time you travel.”
“Maybe I want to.” Esteban took her hand and tugged her onto his lap.
She squealed. “Esteban, I’m going to get you all wet!” she said, but she was smiling.
“I don’t care.”
He tilted her head back to his shoulder and placed his mouth over hers. God, the taste of her still lit his blood on fire. Instead of tiring of this woman, he seemed to want her more. His heart rate sped up as he cradled her in his arms, exploring the texture of her soft mouth and dragging his tongue over the curve of her bottom lip.
Her fingers moved from cupping his jaw to diving into his hair. Her short nails scraped his scalp and the nape of his neck, sending a rush of shivers down the middle of his back.
Trailing his lips down her chin to her breasts, Esteban pulled one of her erect nipples into his mouth and sucked it through the cloth. She moaned and arched up so far that he slid his hand under her bottom and got a good grab of her ass.
“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he said to her cleavage.
“Huh?” She sounded disoriented, and he smiled, knowing she’d temporarily lost herself. She was such a passionate woman that watching her get aroused gave him almost as much pleasure as touching did.
“I said, I promised you something.” He kissed the swell of one breast, her neck, and her cheek.
She let out a breath, obviously meant to calm herself down. “Yes, you did.”
Esteban lifted the box from the table. “Here you go.”
“What is it?” Sonia twisted around on his lap, and the movement rubbed against his erection.
After a bite of his lip and a quick groan, he could formulate an answer. “Open it and see.”
She leaned back against his chest and flipped up the lid on the box, revealing a little black pouch and a drawstring. Inside the bag were four sleek stainless steel wine pearls.
“Thank—” She gasped when she saw the engraved symbol.
Their first and only time in Paris, he’d thought for sure she’d want to go shopping at the most exclusive designer shops and burn through his euros, the way other women he’d taken to Paris had done. Instead, they’d spent days in the wine-growing regions of Alsace and Bordeaux, touring the vineyards and sampling wine from the barrel. At one particular vineyard, she’d wanted to buy a set of engraved wine pearls from the gift shop as a souvenir of the trip, but they no longer made them. He hadn’t forgotten her disappointment.
He instructed Abena to contact the winery, and they finally agreed to create a special set, just for her. They’d arrived at his Buenos Aires office earlier today, and he’d stopped on his way from the airport to pick them up.
“How did you get these?”
“It took a lot of persuading,” he said.
“I can’t believe you remembered,” she said, a little catch in her voice.
He couldn’t believe it either. In the past, he’d have Abena find the presents for his lovers. Jewelry or expensive cars always seemed like good choices. But with Sonia, he paid attention to her preferences and saved them in his memory bank for later. He took pleasure in finding the right dress, the perfect pair of earrings, or some sentimental item he knew she’d appreciate.
He kissed the damp skin of her back and then her shoulder, but she slid to her feet and set the box on the table.
“Come here,” he said, burning for her.
She dropped the towel to a nearby chair and watched him with a playfully coquettish smile over her shoulder. “You have to wait. If you’re not patient, you won’t get what you want.”
His eyes scoured the curve of her back, her lovely behind, and the lean length of her shapely legs. “And what’s that?”
“Me.”
He hated to wait, but at the moment she held the control. She had the power and knew it.
She stepped between his legs, and he knew better than to reach for her when she played this game. If he did, she’d withdraw, and then he’d have to wait even longer. He gripped the armrests as she undid his tie and flung it to the pavement. She slipped the first button from its hole, and one by one slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the edges apart to bare his torso to the evening air.
“What would you like me to do, señor?” Her forefinger zigzagged from the rapid pulse at his throat, veered off to circle the flat disk of one nipple, and then continued down his hair-sprinkled chest.
Her touch held him captivated. He could hardly breathe. “Surprise me,” he said huskily.
She tugged the leather belt from the loop of his pants. “You don’t want to give me a little hint?” she purred.
The rasp of the zipper sounded in the stillness of the night as she dragged it down. He didn’t bother to answer as she crouched before him and lifted his hardened flesh from the snug-fitting boxers. He couldn’t talk. Not with his throat so tight.
At the first slide of her tongue, his body tightened like a clenched fist. In merciless slow motion, her pink tongue slid from the base to the tip. He gripped the chair to refrain from gripping her.
“I think I know what you’d like me to do,” she whispered. Her gaze held his as her mouth enveloped the head.
She took him deep and, with gentle suction, brought him exquisite
torture. Pleasure rolled through his body as her tongue pressed the underside of his erection. His fingers tangled in her wet hair, while she worked his length with her hands and mouth. Groaning, and at the brink of exploding, Esteban pulled her away and stood on unsteady feet, hauling Sonia up with him.
He indulged in the pleasurable task of removing the bottom half of her bikini. Tugging the strings at her hips, he watched the flimsy white covering fall away to the ground.
“Esteban.” Her voice trembled with breathy need.
He lifted her onto the table and fastened his mouth to the delicate skin of her throat. Head tilted back, she let out a short gasp and clamped her arms around his neck, and a tiny shiver shook her body. His hand slid up her smooth, open thighs to thumb the taut nub between her legs. She was wet and slick and so ready for him.
He slid in with absolutely no resistance. The snug fit of her body around his made him clench his ass cheeks to keep from a premature nut.
“You’re incredible, querida,” he whispered, lifting her off the table.
“Esteban,” she whispered. “Oh god. You feel so good.” She clamped her limbs around his hips and began thrusting, using the muscles in her thighs and her arms around his neck to lever her hips against his. He braced one hand on the table and the other beneath her bottom, angling his hips and pumping deep between her legs.
He found her mouth again and swirled his tongue against hers. He kissed her jaw, her clavicle, her neck, her breasts. Anywhere he could reach, he inhaled her feminine scent and tasted her skin.
She was a work of art. A goddess.
As they climaxed together and their cries lifted into the night air, he considered how lucky he was to call her his.
Chapter 25
Sonia sat very still on the loveseat. Then she reached for the glass and examined it from a side view as the guests waited quietly and patiently. Holding the glass up to the light, she tilted it at various angles and allowed the wine to roll toward the edges so she could see the complete color range. Then came the swirl, followed by a good sniff. A fruity bouquet with a scent of cocoa filtered into her nostrils.
She took a taste and swished it around her mouth. Almost immediately, she knew the origin but delayed the answer to build suspense.
“Full-bodied, vibrant, with notes of cinnamon and a hint of peppery spice.” The complexity of flavor almost made her close her eyes and moan, but she had an audience of seven. After long seconds, where the tension thickened to the consistency of pudding, and she knew everyone hung on her every word, Sonia announced, “Syrah. Year, 2013. Torbreck winery, Barossa Valley, South Australia.”
Craig, standing nearby as a sort of master of ceremonies, removed the piece of paper taped over the bottle and displayed the label to all assembled. Gasps filled the room, followed by a loud round of applause. No one clapped louder than Esteban, standing behind the opposite sofa beside his friend, Cortez Alesini, whose expression was one of amazement.
“How do you do that?” asked Cortez.
“Yes, you must tell us.” Craig’s wife Ivana sat across from Sonia. She spoke in a brisk voice with a thick Russian accent that was at times difficult to understand, but endearing at the same time. Her shoulder-length hair, the color of dandelion florets, was pulled back into a tight bun that seemed to stretch the skin of her face.
“A magician never reveals her secrets,” Sonia said. A round of laughter went up from the group as she sat back and crossed her legs with a triumphant smile.
“It’s amazing how you can do that,” said Renaldo, the Brazilian in the group. He was a giant of a man. Esteban had spoken to her in the past about wanting to open a restaurant in the mixed-use development he and his wife Sabrina had built in São Paulo, but this was the first time she’d met them.
Renaldo’s wife turned out to be a native of Chicago. She was an eye-catching woman—tall, with a head full of curly hair. She sat in an armchair near Cortez’s wife, Nadine, their heads close together as they quietly conversed.
“Pick any bottle of wine, and she’ll tell you the grapes and the region they were grown in,” Esteban said with pride.
“Not any bottle,” Sonia said, though he was pretty close.
She continued to host parties for him, but also concentrated on getting her sommelier certification. When she’d passed the sommelier exam, Esteban had been out of the country on business. But he made sure to send six dozen roses and a diamond bracelet to congratulate her. Shortly thereafter, a ticket arrived to join him in São Paulo. From there they’d zipped across the Atlantic to Europe so Esteban could check on his businesses there, before returning to Miami.
On a personal front, she used the first deposit from Esteban to install a heating and cooling system into her uncle’s old house. He’d protested, but she insisted, and finally he acquiesced. And although she’d moved in with Esteban, she’d kept her apartment. The benefit being that she generated a little cash subletting the apartment to visiting tourists. Fortunately, her landlord didn’t mind, as long as he received the rent on time.
“You’re giving her some kind of signal,” Nadine accused Esteban teasingly, a bright smile on her dark brown face.
“It’s not a trick, and I have nothing to do with it,” Esteban said. “I’m very lucky to have met someone who knows her wines.” He winked at her.
“You two are so cute. How long have you been married?” The woman who asked was a stranger to Sonia, but a friend of the Alesinis.
Color bloomed at Sonia’s throat, and a few seconds of awkward silence ensued before Esteban responded, “We’ve been together for eight months.”
“We’re not married,” Sonia added. She looked at him, and he looked at her.
“Oh! I assumed…” The woman’s eyes dropped to Sonia’s hands resting in her lap.
“People often make that mistake. I guess because we know each other so well,” Sonia said, fighting back the sting of embarrassment.
As the perfect hostess, she’d planned tonight’s meal, the wine pairings, and arranged for light entertainment in the form of a band who’d packed up their instruments moments before. Her role as mistress had expanded, so she understood why people were confused about the nature of their relationship.
“You’re like a married couple,” Ivana said. “You know each other better than Craig and I do.”
Craig snorted and sat beside Sonia, crossing his legs. “There are plenty of married couples who don’t know each other very well, love.”
Ivana raised one eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re satisfied with barely knowing your wife? Should I be concerned?”
A trickle of laughter went through the room, and a good-natured argument erupted about how long couples should know each other before they got married, and what constituted actually knowing one’s spouse. Sonia grinned and nodded accordingly, interjecting comments here and there. But as she looked around the room, it suddenly dawned on her that she and Esteban were the only unmarried couple present.
“Gentlemen, can I interest you in a cigar?”
The business part of the evening was about to begin. Esteban opened a box of thick Cubans, and right away there was a murmur of assent as the men prepared to step out onto the balcony and smoke and talk business.
Sabrina stood. “I don’t smoke, but I’ll join you,” she said. As the person in charge of the finances, her role was a critical one in her and Renaldo’s business.
“I can’t make a decision without her,” Renaldo said, placing an arm around his wife’s waist and guiding her out the door with Cortez, Esteban, and the other male guest interested in investing in Esteban’s restaurant in Brazil.
“You’re not going, darling?” Ivana asked Craig.
“No. I’ll stay in here and enjoy the lovely view with all you women.” He grinned.
Sonia stood. “I’m going to the kitchen to get more wine. Should I bring out more snacks?”
She heard groans of “I’m full” and “No more food,” but also “Yes! More wine.�
��
“Thank goodness we’re not driving,” Ivana said, laughing as she looked at her husband.
He nodded in agreement.
In the kitchen, Sonia popped a chorizo and smoked shrimp canapé in her mouth and then perused the choices in the wine cooler beside the refrigerator. She chose one of her personal favorites, a fortified red made in the southern Rhône and Languedoc-Roussillon region of France. She was certain their guests would enjoy that.
Their guests. She sometimes thought in those terms, even though this was Esteban’s house and, technically, she was a guest, too.
Craig sauntered into the kitchen. “Need any help?”
She’d seen Craig once since the night at the Blue Top Hotel, and that had been at another party in Miami where she made sure to steer clear of him. But he and Esteban had known each other for some time, so she couldn’t avoid him altogether. She considered him a lurker, or a hanger-on. The kind of person who thought following the cool kids around made him cool, but instead, it made him look sad. Because the cool kids had moved on, while he was still living in the past.
Her skin prickled with unease when his gaze lingered an inappropriately long time on her cleavage. She’d worn the fuchsia dress because Esteban wanted to see her in it, but now she wished she’d resisted and worn something with more coverage.
“No, I’m fine.”
She smiled politely, hoping her answer would be enough to shoo him back to the living room, but he didn’t move. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he watched her.
“How do you know your wines so well?” he asked from behind her. His voice sounded much closer, the tone pitched lower.
“Years of practice,” Sonia answered shortly. She removed the cork.
“Do you still do wine consulting?” he asked.
More Than a Mistress (Latin Men Book 5) Page 15