There’s no point in talking to Sylvia. Sylvia is way too much like Magda. God knows why I ever thought we had a chance. I loved her. I truly did. I believed she’d learn to love me with time, but the only thing that became clear with time was her ambition. What she wanted was my money and protection, not my love. She married me on her father’s orders and got out as fast as she could, as soon as she produced the heir expected of her. Her sacrifice got her what she wanted. As the mother of my child, she’ll always have my money and protection. After Carly, she insisted on a hysterectomy, ensuring she wouldn’t bear me any more children. Sylvia hated every minute of being pregnant. She was devastated when the doctor confirmed the results of the pregnancy test. Carly stretched and scarred her body. Sylvia never forgave me for that. The minute Carly was born, Sylvia went on a diet and a binge of plastic surgery, letting the nanny take care of our child. Maybe Carly subconsciously felt the rejection. She was a colicky baby. She’s never been an easy child, but she’s my daughter, and the only human being I love in this world. I wish I knew how to fix this.
Magda’s high-pitched voice and fast-slapping heels on the marble floor in the foyer pulls me from my troubles. An itch works its way down my shoulder blades.
“That’s it! I’ve had it.”
I pull the door open to see Magda charge down the hallway with Oscar. She’s got him by the skin of his neck.
“What’s going on?” I barely hide the irritation in my voice.
She doesn’t stop in her stride, but calls over her shoulder, “He peed on my Louis Vuitton sofa. Quincy! Get your ass over here.”
Quincy rounds the corner, a question on his face.
“Here.” Magda pushes the clawing cat into his arms. “Take him to the vet and have him euthanized.”
I’m about to tell my mother she’s overreacting when Valentina flies from the lounge, a cloth and spray bottle in her hands.
“Oh, no, please, Mrs. Louw, you don’t have to do that. It’s not his fault. It may be a urinary infection. I’m sure antibiotics will fix the problem in no time.”
Magda turns on Valentina. “What makes you the goddamn expert?”
“She’s got a point,” Quincy says.
The fact that he puts himself between Valentina and my mother isn’t lost on me. I don’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
“I’m heading out to the vet with Bruno, anyway,” Quincy continues. “I can take Oscar.”
“I’m not spending another cent on this fur pollution. He’s just signed his death warrant.”
That figures. My mother never harbored any love for my late grandmother’s overweight cat. If it was up to her, she would’ve abandoned him at my grandmother’s house after the funeral, but Carly insisted we bring him here.
“I’ll take him,” Valentina says quickly. “I mean to the vet. You don’t have to pay anything, I promise.”
I lean in the doorframe, enjoying Magda’s irritation. “It was Grandma’s cat, after all,” I drawl.
My mother shoots me a dirty look. “Fine,” she says to Valentina. “If you’ve got money to waste, do as you please, but if he pees in the house one more time, he’s dead.”
“I can take him on Sunday when it’s my day off.”
“Today or never,” Magda says, marching to her study and slamming the door.
Valentina looks at me. There’s a plea on her face. I haven’t missed how Oscar follows her around or that he sleeps in her bed. She’s fond of the shedding fluff ball.
“You can take an hour this afternoon,” I say.
Her face lights up, and a smile transforms her features into something angelic, something too good for me. I take it anyway, enjoying the knowledge that I put that expression on her face, giving her something more than physical pleasure.
“I’ll drive you,” Quincy says.
Immediately, my good mood evaporates. Dark, suffocating jealousy smothers my reason. My bodyguard may mean the gesture in the most platonic way possible, but I want to break every single one of his ribs. The only thing that prevents me from kicking the life out of him is that Valentina doesn’t see the way his eyes soften as he drags them over her, because she’s looking at me. She’s looking at me for permission. The submissive act somewhat calms me. I don’t manage more than a nod.
“Thank you,” she says, her gaze wary, as if she’s reading the change in my temper.
I’ll be watching Quincy from now on.
* * *
Valentina
The vet bill eats a hole into my allowance, money I was going to use for my studies, but the tests are done, and Oscar has medicine. It’s a urinary infection as I thought. The vet assures me he’ll be back to normal in a couple of days. It was my plan to take him to Kris on the weekend. She would’ve treated him for free, but I couldn’t risk his life, and I don’t doubt for a second Magda would’ve had him put down. To play it safe, I lock him in my room with his litter tray and food, waiting for the frequent urination to stop.
When I get to my room that night, there’s a bundle of colorful silk tied with a ribbon on my bed, and a note tucked underneath. Curious, I pick up the piece of paper. The handwriting is neat and square.
Shave your pussy.
Gabriel is the most warped man I know. Flinging the note aside, I pull the ribbon off to reveal seven nightgowns in red, navy, white, pink, baby blue, black, and cherry plum, all with lace and ribbon trimmings. Did he get me new nightgowns because he destroyed mine, or are the sinfully sexy sleepwear something that turns him on?
I should be studying, but I can’t stop thinking about the note. There will be repercussions if I disobey. In the shower, I trim and shave my pubic hair. It’s a surprisingly lengthy task. After moisturizing my body, I pull on the navy nightgown, which is the least revealing, and sit down on the bed to wait.
It doesn’t take long before I hear footsteps in the kitchen. Oscar, who sleeps on my bed, twitches his ears, but he doesn’t move. Gabriel’s tall frame appears in the doorway. With the backlight from the scullery, his face is in the dark. I can’t make out his expression. He flicks on the light and enters the room with slow but purposeful steps. He’s a man who always knows what he’s doing and who always has a reason for his actions. His gaze slides over me from top to bottom, but there’s nothing of Tiny’s lustful need for a quick fix in his eyes. They’re filled with questions as he runs his fingertips down my arm from my shoulder to my hand. There’s a crazy moment when I almost trust him with my body, that I almost surrender my mind. It’s like being in a car with a good driver, knowing you’ll end up safely at your destination. I must be going nuts. It’s the endorphins my body releases when he touches me. Purely hormonal. Biological. Gabriel is a sadist, and he made me a whore. I can never trust him.
He slides a finger under the strap of the nightgown. “It looks good on you.”
“Thank you,” I say awkwardly. “You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did.” He lifts Oscar from the covers and puts him in his cat bed in the corner. “He doesn’t need to see this.”
I’m not sure if he’s joking or serious, but the insinuation behind his words makes my underwear damp. I don’t want this reaction, but I’m helpless to stop my body from wanting what he gives.
He drums his fingers on my wrist. Whatever is going through his mind, he’s giving it deep thought. Finally, he breaks the silence with a single command.
“Undress.”
I can fight and argue, cry and plead, but it won’t make a difference. It never does to men like him. Sitting up, I take the hem of the nightgown and pull it over my head. My underwear follows next. I don’t want to drag it out. The quicker we get this over with, the quicker I can go back to pretending I don’t want him to touch me like this.
Gabriel doesn’t hide his arousal from me. He’s comfortable with it, like he is with his body and clothes. His erection strains under the fabric of his pants, but he doesn’t touch it or go for his zipper. He tucks my hair over my shoulders with a gentle bru
sh and continues with his orders.
“On your knees and open your legs.”
Heat creeps up my neck as I take the posture that opens me up for his gaze, but I lift my chin and face him squarely. I won’t surrender to my shame, not with him in the room. For a long moment, his eyes fix between my thighs, seemingly pleased that I obeyed his order to shave.
He tests the weight of my breasts, sending an uncontainable shiver over my skin. I can’t prevent my nipples from hardening.
“Shoulders back, tits forward.”
I give him what he wants and wait.
A rare smile tugs at his lips. “You’re so brave, Valentina.” Without warning, his hand slips between my legs. He cups a broad palm over my sex. “I love your cunt bare. Do you know what I want to do to you?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, but flicks the forefinger of his free hand left and right over the tip of my breast. The movement is firm and fast, and it makes my already heavy breast turn even more swollen. While he’s toying with my nipple, he pushes his middle finger against the opening of my vagina. He doesn’t penetrate me, but runs the tip of his finger up and down my slit. The rasp of the rough skin of his pad feels more intense on my shaved skin. Strangely, his touch on my breast echoes in my clit. The nub between my folds swells and throbs with aching need. Wetness coats his finger. I can feel the moisture as he slickens the outer walls of my opening with my arousal. Determined not to give him a sound, I gasp nevertheless when he grips my nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a pinch.
Satisfaction bleeds into his expression. For some reason, he’s happy with my reaction. He’s happy that he has this effect on me. Another cry leaves my lips as he rolls my nipple.
“Valentina,” he says with a moan, “you’re everything I want.”
Alternating between pinching and rolling my nipple, he works my body into a state of desperate need. The bite of pain followed by the softer caress is too much to bear. No man has ever touched me like this. There’s so much wetness, his hand is covered. It takes everything I have not to grind into his palm. I don’t have to. He presses the pad of his thumb down on my clit, massaging in circular movements. His deft fingers abandon my tormented breast to start working on the other one. When he gives the curve a soft smack on the side, making it bounce, a gush of liquid heat spills from my body and coats his fingers.
His eyes widen, and his pupils dilate. “You like that.”
My lips part, and sounds I don’t want to make tumble from my mouth. Nerve endings in my lower body spark with electricity, and an invisible band of fire draws tight around my womb. It implodes, drawing all my feminine parts tight in my core before it snaps and explodes from my clit outward. All the while, I watch his face. I hold his eyes as much as he holds mine. For the briefest of moments, he’s exposed, and I understand why he’s enjoying this. My pleasure gives him power.
With a hand on my back, he presses my upper body to his chest while he holds my sex in hand, applying gentle but unyielding pressure to my clit while aftershocks from my orgasm wrack my body. I shake in his hold, my energy spent, and my pleasure his. Only when my body turns quiet does he stop his assault on my clit. He keeps his hand between my legs still while he brushes a broad palm over my hair and down my back. His lips are warm and dry as he plants kisses from the arch of my neck down to my shoulder. His breath is a mist of heat on my skin. His erection is a steel rod that presses against my stomach from the difference in height with him standing and me on my knees, but he doesn’t pay it any attention. Slowly, he pushes me back on the mattress and straightens my legs. Kneeling on the floor between my legs, he kisses first my clit and then my folds, running his tongue over the wetness and lapping it up until I’m only wet from his tongue, but no longer slick.
When he finally gets back on his feet, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. A flush burns on my cheeks.
He smirks and bends over me to plant a firm kiss on the corner of my mouth. My scent is musky on him. He continues to plant kisses down my body, turning rougher. I’m still soaring from my orgasm when he starts nipping my nipples and pinching my clit. It takes him a long time to bring my body to a quick, but intense, second orgasm. His roughness, in contrast to the first orgasm, feels like punishment, but I can’t think of a single reason why. His house is spotless, and I stay away from the kitchen. By the time he’s done with me, he’s panting as hard as I am. He doesn’t angle his face away from me like I’m used to, but pulls me into a sitting position on the edge of the bed while his hands go for his pants.
The air squeezes out of my lungs.
He’s going to fuck my mouth.
6
Valentina
Visions of me on my knees in the middle of the road for anyone to see make my throat tight. I close my eyes, trying to visualize a black hole in space, anything so I can escape into a dark corner of my mind.
“Open your eyes,” Gabriel commands.
I obey. I don’t have a choice.
“Unzip me.”
He has undone the button of his pants. A trail of hair peaks out from under the open flaps. My hands shake as I pull down the zipper. I’m on eye level with his crotch, and he’s towering over me. The difference in strength between us chokes me. He can easily make me swallow him, and there will be nothing I can do.
“Take me out.” His voice is quiet and calm. There’s nothing threatening about it.
Slowly, I push the elastic of his briefs down his hips to free his erection. He’s impossibly big. Free from its constraints, his cock twitches and hardens more. The crest is broad and smooth. Manly veins run over the thick shaft to where the root is cushioned by heavy balls.
He doesn’t grab my hair and force himself into my mouth, but simply stands there, watching me as I study his cock. I’ve never seen one from close-up. I’ve had Tiny’s down my throat, but I deliberately never looked at it. Gabriel’s is beautiful, a work of art.
He doesn’t object when I slide a finger over his length from the bottom to the top, so I carry on with my exploration, caressing the velvety head. I’m rewarded with a drop of moisture that spills from the slit. In response, liquid heat gathers between my legs, even if I’ve just had two orgasms. When I wrap my fingers around him, he groans. Loudly. He’s not afraid to let me see the power I have. The deep lines that cut from his hips to his groin fascinate me. I abandon his cock to trace them with my fingers, surprised at how hard the muscle is underneath. A white scar runs across his hip, covering bone and flesh. He grits his teeth when I trace it, but doesn’t say anything. His cock jerks when I run my hands down to his inner thighs and cup his balls. They’re soft and heavy, contracting in my palm.
“Valentina,” he moans, “suck me already or zip me up.”
He’s giving me a choice? Emotion clogs up my chest. I swallow and look up to catch his expression. He’s looking down at me with something like hope and acceptance. He’ll take whatever I’m prepared to give.
He strokes my hair, his big hand cupping the back of my head. “Take only what you want.”
At the verbal confirmation, my fear vanishes. He’ll let me stop. He won’t hold it against me. I lick my lips to moisten them, uncertain how to proceed. I’ve never done this without force.
“However you want,” he whispers. “There’s no right or wrong way.”
I inch to the edge of the bed, taking his cock in both hands. Holding him close to my mouth, I flick out my tongue to taste him. A strangled grunt escapes when I lick over the crest. He tastes of earth and sea, a mixture of fertile soil and salty air, and I love it. I lick down to the base to see if it’s the same, and when I suck a testicle into my mouth the heady taste intensifies.
“Fuck. Goddammit.”
He threads his fingers through my hair, but he doesn’t pull. He’s holding onto me for support as I take his control. The knowledge gives me more power, and it makes me brave. I slicken the whole shaft with my tongue, using my saliva as a lubricant for my hands. I grip his girth firm
ly, one hand above the other, and move my fists down while pushing my lips over him.
“Ah, fuck.” Air wheezes through his teeth. “Yes.”
I suck him into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks, and running my tongue over the head.
He buries his fingers deeper in my hair. “Yes, beautiful, just like that.”
When I glide my hands up and down his length where my mouth doesn’t reach, he grows even thicker in my mouth. His hold on my hair tightens, and his ass clenches. “Pull out if you don’t want to swallow.”
I don’t want to give my power away, yet. He’s letting me do what I want with him, and his cock is jerking in my mouth. He’s close. I want to take him all the way. There’s agony in his eyes. I recognize the look, know the depth of that kind of pleasure. I felt it at his hands, lips, tongue, and teeth. I open my throat and take him deep, breathing through my nose.
His jaw clenches as he grunts out his pleasure while warm jets coat my tongue. He holds my head in the gentle vice of his palms as he empties himself. Keeping his hips still, he lets me suck him dry rather than moving between my lips. I take every drop like I earned it, drinking down the dizzying cocktail of male ecstasy and feminine power.
Looking spent, he bends over and leans our foreheads together while he catches his breath. I’m still floating on a cloud of warm satisfaction knowing I pleased a man like him, when he tilts my head and crushes our lips together. He kisses me fiercely, tangling our tongues, and sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. When he finally lets go, I’m breathless.
His eyes crinkle in the corners. “You taste good with my cum on your tongue.”
A wave of heat creeps up my neck and spreads to my cheeks.
He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “Zip me up.”
I bend to pull up his underpants and pants. There are more scars on his leg, but I don’t linger there. For now, I’m concentrating on adjusting the clothes over his cock. He’s still semi-hard. The velvet feel of his warm skin is pleasantly erotic. He catches my hand and moves it away, finishing the task of zipping his pants up himself. He plants a warm, wet kiss on my mouth and pushes me down to the mattress with a hand wrapped around my neck. For a second he stays like that, watching me, and then he lets go.
Dubious: The Loan Shark Duet (Book 1) Page 9