Mi Carino - Risky Love

by Sienna Mynx

  Instead of words he again used his hands. One eased up the front of her blouse and slipped inside. Marcella’s head fell over to the side. “I love you Diego.” She breathed, he cupped her breast and squeezed. “I’m not afraid to admit it.” He stroked her stomach with one hand and pinched her nipple with the other. She felt him growing harder, thicker; each time she said the words. So she said it again. “Don’t make me regret investing my heart with you.”

  “No more regrets.” He pressed his words of desire against her ear. She felt a strong inner withdrawal when his hand moved out of her shirt. She felt his fingers to the front of her blouse, as he began to undo a button at a time while his nose nuzzled the inside cavern of her ear. She felt the heat of his breath against her neck, and his erection so bone straight the urge to have him left the seat of her panty wet.

  “You care for me but you aren’t sure why? Admit it, I scare you nena.” Diego said.

  “Yes you do,” she replied softly.

  “I don’t mean to.”

  “Nothing lasts Marcella. Not even if we wish it to.”

  Her eyes watered. Diego turned off the stove. He took her by the hand and pulled her from the kitchen to the bedroom. She stayed his seduction with a push at his chest when his touch grew more amorous. “Wait, no sex. Not now. I can’t.”

  “Okay,” he said, disappointment making his voice low and hoarse.

  “Do you like hurting me?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Trust me Diego I’m not so pathetic that I would beg for love, or stick around hoping for it. I’m here because your actions and your words don’t match. Because if I really leave I’m done, I’m not coming back. So give me one good reason why I should keep doing this with you. How long can we keep it up?”

  “You weren’t supposed to happen Marcella. Not to me,” he said softly. “Stop over analyzing what is between us.”

  “A man killed himself because you bought his company.”

  Diego froze. “Who told you that?”

  “I know all about it. I don’t know enough about you to understand how this fits in your life. I’m tired of pretending that I don’t need more Diego. It’s time for more. Why did you come to Port Delgado? Who are you?”

  “An orphan. A man with no past or future. I live in a world of grey Marcella, you, you are the only color in my life.” He walked over to her. Both of his hands extended out for her. “I know I’m on borrowed time. I know what it will take to keep you. Now the rest is on me Marcella.”

  “Why did you come to Delgado?” She pressed.

  “To right a wrong for a little girl and little boy lost. It is all I can say.”

  She placed her hands in his. He drew her to him once more. It had been a long torturous week since he held her. She kissed him. It was a desperate duel of wills as they fell back on the bed—the weight of him hard and strong. She bit his lip. Desire knifed through her with him pinning her down. Grabbing her wrists he brought them both over her head.

  “Grip the headboard.”

  “What?”

  Diego moved off her and reached in the side drawer. He removed a nylon stocking, one of hers. Marcella watched him, surprised as he tied her wrists to the headboard. She shook her head smiling. More of his games. She should have known he’d want to play. She tugged at her bindings but soon relaxed with the gentle way he began to fondle her. She rubbed her thighs together closing them on his hand that stroked her through her panty. Lying there with her arms lifted, her shirt open, her skirt hitched up to her hips revealing her lace panty, she listened.

  “Close your eyes. Please.”

  “Since you asked nicely.” She chuckled. Marcella closed her eyes. She heard him leave the room then return. A shockingly cold cube over her nipple, it melted on contact running streams of cold water like tears down her breast. The sensation was so lovely she shuddered. He ran the ice cube over one nipple then the other while molesting her clit. Tiny beads of moisture formed over her skin. The room temperature rose a degree. Then he withdrew. Marcella inhaled, her hands twisting in her bindings.

  She felt the bed shift as he rose again. Listened for the soft slip of his shirt as it peeled away from his chest, the tiny clink of his belt being unbuckled, the slow rip of his zipper lowering. She knew every inch of his body, had run her tongue over it many times. Maybe he’d fuck her hard and long and she’d forget all the doubts. Maybe he would just fuck her and put her out of her misery.

  She heard him drink from something. In her mind’s eye she could see his Adams-apple bob at the center of his thick neck. Then he returned pulling her down by the ankles so that there was little slack in the roped nylon that tied her to the headboard. He started with her skirt, removing it then her panty. But her blouse lie open and her bra pushed up to release her breasts. She wanted that off too.

  “Diego?”

  Again nothing but she felt everything. The ways he parted her legs into a wide V then pushed back so that they bent at the knee, forced them down to her chest putting her sex on display for him, before his face and tongue came next. And suddenly she understood why there was such a thing as ice. His mouth housed several cubes. He blew coolness over her pussy, shocking her with delicious spasms that left her creaming. Then he brought the cube between his teeth so he could rub it up and down her slit before coming up on her clit to suck and put her heart in distress.

  Marcella cried out. It felt so good. But her cries weren’t from just pleasure. There was frustration over her lack of control. The cube slipped back into his mouth and his tongue worked to part the tender folds of her vagina before he took her love button in once more and sucked hard.

  Harder.

  Tighter.

  Harder.

  She thrust her hips at him, her thighs and legs quivering. He lapped, sucked, licked, and pierced her pussy with cool lips and an icy tongue. She cried out hard and then convulsed into an orgasmic explosion of sensations so delicious she licked her own lips.

  He didn’t shy away from her stream; his face remained buried until she was begging, weeping for him to end the torture. And at last he did, mounting her, stabbing her aching channel with his thick member then fucking her into the mattress. She yanked on the bindings wanting to hold him through it, but he would not allow it. He gripped her ass and squeezed, blow after blow. Her eyes rolled, the pleasure too intense. She yanked hard on the bindings again. His repeated thrusts had her pumping up and back to receive more. She yanked even harder on the bindings when he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

  Marcella cried out as the nylon cut into one wrist and snapped free of another. With her hand free she grabbed hold to his sweaty back as he continued to plow her channel and force her to take more. Her nails scraped his flesh leaving welts.

  Diego grabbed her free hand and pinned it down, raising just a fraction to work her over. She couldn’t see him. She didn’t have to. She exhaled and just held on for the ride. “Don’t leave me Marcella,” he panted. “I won’t let you go.”

  Then captured her mouth and started loving her again from head to toe.

  “Marcella? Is that you?”

  The question came from above. Marcella’s head lifted. Others had risen for the removal of the casket and she just sat there. Thinking about how fleeting life could be. It was Susan’s sister.

  “Marcella!” Susan said. She stepped over and they embraced. She was then pulled out to walk in line with the family. They all proceeded behind her sister and her mother’s casket. Susan’s hand slipped into hers and Marcella squeezed it.

  “Thank you for coming,” Susan said once outside, after introductions to her family.

  “I was so worried about you. I couldn’t let you go through this alone.”

  “I needed you,” she said softly dropping her head to her shoulder. Marcella wept behind the oval lens of her sunglasses. Diego hadn’t accepted or answered one single call from her since she left. He stormed out that morning before she rose. The limo stopped. Not far from t
he funeral home was the graveyard. They drove up behind the hearse. “I’m here for you okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Together they got out. Marcella kept her arm around her friend’s shoulder, as Susan seemed to lose her strength with each step. Finally she got her to the seat before the casket, and through the remainder of the service Marcella rubbed her friend’s hand and back encouraging her to breathe.

  Then Susan turned on her and said something that shocked her. “I want to leave right away, okay?”

  “Right away?”

  “Yeah. Did you drive down or catch a flight?”

  “I caught a flight then a cab.” She whispered to her as others came over to pay respects.

  “Good we can drive back together I can’t stay here another second. Not another one.”

  Marcella nodded that she understood. She sat back and waited. Until the wait got the best of her and she checked her small clutch purse for her phone. She found no missed calls—not a single one.

  ***

  “I love you even more for coming to the funeral. You have always been my best friend. I needed you.” Susan said as she drove up the ramp to the highway.

  “I know. I’m sorry I hadn’t gotten here sooner.” Marcella said sadly.

  “What is it? Is it Diego?”

  “What is what?”

  “The sadness. It’s more to it, I know you and something is wrong.”

  Marcella closed her eyes and though she vowed not to cry she did. “I think I’m in over my head Susan.”

  “Explain?”

  “I’m in love with him.”

  “Oh girl! You scared me. Stop being so melodramatic! People fall in and out of love every day. You talk as if the man has done something to you.”

  Marcella looked away. He had, he’d done many things to her and she allowed it. She indeed felt like Madame Butterfly.

  “Marcella?”

  “He hasn’t said he loves me too. Not even close.”

  “Okay?”

  “He hasn’t shared much with me Susan. I’m tired of it.”

  “So what are you saying? You intend to break it off?”

  “No.” Marcella mumbled. Susan frowned. She did too. “I just want answers. I can decide if I know the facts. I want to know why, why he’s this way.”

  “Have you asked him?”

  “I can’t talk to him.”

  “Why not? I don’t understand. How could you be with the man for just over two months and not know him?”

  “Because he just won’t allow it. He shuts down when I push.” Marcella answered.

  “Push? It’s not pushing to know the man you’re sleeping with.” Susan scoffed.

  “It is for him. He just doesn’t relate to me on that level. He never has.”

  Susan’s frown deepened. She looked back to the road, driving, and Marcella stared down at her lap. “I sound pathetic don’t I?”

  “No, no sweetie, but you’re right to be concerned. Though I have to be honest Marcella, love sometimes comes quick. I mean you can’t set a watch to it. If the man can’t say he loves you it might not be you but something with him. You need to find out who he is.”

  “I tried, dead ends everywhere. His company barely mentions him throughout, even the courts that are trying to stop his hostile take-over report little on him.”

  “Follow him.”

  “What?”

  “Follow him, snoop and see what he does, who he does it with. Then you can get to the bottom of it. Find out what he’s hiding.”

  “Why do you think he’s hiding something?” Marcella frowned.

  “A man that secretive has to be. If he won’t tell you then let’s get to the bottom of it. I’ll help you.”

  “I don’t like this idea. Richard said…”

  “What?”

  Marcella bit down on her bottom lip. “He trusts me Susan.”

  “No he doesn’t. If he won’t tell you who he truly is he doesn’t.”

  “I don’t have time to play Sherlock Holmes with my boyfriend. We have Katchner to deal with.” Marcella dismissed the notion.

  They rode for several long minutes in silence. Susan chewed on her bottom lip. “Fuck it, we go for it. I’ll help you. We’ll get to the bottom of Mr. Diego Andes I promise.”

  Marcella smiled. “You’re too good to me.”

  “Thank me later! Now pass me that bag of chips, we got a long ride home.” Marcella agreed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Susan blew the horn. Holding her tote in one hand Marcella waved off the silver Mercedes as it backed out of the drive and drove off into the night. The wind howled in her ear as it got tangled in her hair. She looked up at the sky. Under a crescent moon, it was splattered with stars. Tucking her hair behind her ear she smiled then turned for the door. The trip had exhausted her.

  Road trips always drained her, though as a little girl her mother would insist on them for every holiday. Together they’d drive hundreds of miles in search of the best campsite. Suddenly she had an urge to call her mother, glean her wisdom. If anyone could help her understand her heart now it would be her mother.

  The funeral, Diego, her life, all of it mixed and boiled to the surface along with her feelings of confused love and anger. Her fingers cramped as her grip tightened but didn’t turn the knob. Diego and she hadn’t spoken all day. During her week of self imposed isolation she needed the space. Today she needed his support. It had been a major difference. Now she and Susan had hatched a plan. One she felt certain would end in disaster. Spying on him? Together they went over their mission, worked out every single detail. On the road with her friend’s encouragement she reasoned it necessary. Now? Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Marcella’s shoulders sagged with the burden. “I’m tired,” she mumbled. She released another tense breath as she pushed the door open to darkness, silence. A stark contrast to the echo the waves carried through the wind when she headed up the walk. But in the darkness her senses sharpened. He was there, and there was more. She inhaled the waxy vanilla fragrance of candles burning. There had to be many for the aroma to be that compelling. Marcella dropped her tote and curiously set her keys and purse on the wall table before walking through the beach house.

  Led by the flicker of flames casting dancing shadows along the wall she found him. Waiting. He lingered near the doors to the terrace gazing at the moon and stars. The homecoming felt quite seductive. Candles, flowers, wine, a spicy dish that tasted even better when he told her the name in Spanish.

  “Hi?”

  “Hi,” he said without looking back. “How was your trip?”

  “It was okay, Susan’s okay. I’m glad to be back.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes Diego. I’m sure. I’m here aren’t I?”

  Marcella realized how silly it sounded to call this place home. Still with him there waiting for her that’s how she felt, like she was coming home. He didn’t turn. He continued to stare out at something she couldn’t see. The silence between them was fraught with tension, a force that linked them yet somehow divided them. She took a step but Ginger crossed the room to rub against her ankle. Marcella smiled at her neglected kitty. She lowered her bags, and scooped her up in her hands. “Hi baby.”

  To this Diego’s head turned, he observed them both for a moment. “She missed you. So did I. We’ve been missing you a lot lately Marcella.”

  “You have?”

  Forever the gentleman in his tailored suits, he parted the folds of his jacket as his hands slipped into his trouser pockets. “Are you hungry?”

  “I want to say yes, as usual you’ve gone out of your way to prepare a sweet dinner for us. But we stopped along the way and ate. Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

  “I couldn’t,” he replied.

  She nodded. “Well no I’m not hungry, too much fast food.”

  “Not good for you,” he said.

  “No. But being here with you, that’s good for me.” She went to him. Putt
ing Ginger to the side of her arm she walked into his embrace. He held her close to his chest. His large open palm ran up and down her back for long tender moments.

  “Why don’t you let me give you a bath?” He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “I want to hold you tonight.” He said as his lips brushed hers. Thoughts of resentment for his ignoring her calls all day tangled in her mind, and then floated off. She opened her mouth to his, quivering at her unlimited response to his deeply probing tongue. Her lashes fluttered down; helplessly she yielded to the potent enchantment of passion.