The Playboy of Puerto Banus

by Carol Marinelli

  But not for life.

  She felt like a fraud. She was a fraud, Estelle thought, panic starting to build. But Raúl took her hand and she looked into his black eyes. He seemed to sense that she was suddenly struggling.

  ‘He asks now that you hand him the Arras,’ Raúl said and she handed over the small purse he had given her on arrival. It contained thirteen coins, he had explained, and it showed his financial commitment to her.

  It was the only honest part of the service, Estelle thought as the priest blessed them and handed it back to her.

  Except it felt real.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said to her. ‘We are here in this together.’

  It felt far safer than being in it alone.

  The service ended and an attendant removed the satin rope and presented it to Estelle; then they walked out to cheers and petals and rice being thrown at them. Raúl’s hand was hot on her waist, and he gripped her tighter when she nearly shot out of her dress at the sound of an explosion.

  ‘It’s firecrackers,’ Raúl said. ‘Sorry I forgot to warn you.’

  And there would be firecrackers later too, Estelle thought, when they got to bed and she told him the truth! But it was far too late now to warn him.

  * * *

  It really was a wonderful wedding.

  As Raúl had told her on the night they had met, there were no speeches; instead it was an endless feast, with dancing and celebration and congratulations from all.

  She met Paola and Carlos, Raúl’s aunt and uncle, and they spoke of Raúl’s mother, Gabriella.

  ‘She would be so proud to be here today,’ Paola said. ‘Wouldn’t she, Antonio?’

  Estelle saw how friendly they were with Raúl’s father, and also with Angela, who was naturally seated with them. No longer were they names, but faces, and a shiver went down her arms as she imagined their reaction when the truth came out.

  ‘My son has excellent taste.’ Antonio kissed her on the cheek.

  Estelle had met him very briefly the day before, and Raúl had handled most of the questions—though both had seen the doubt in his eyes as to whether this union was real.

  It was slowly fading.

  ‘It is good to see my son looking so happy.’

  He did look happy.

  Raúl smiled at her as they danced their first dance as husband and wife, with the room watching on.

  ‘Remember our first dance?’ Raúl smiled.

  ‘Well, we shan’t be repeating that tonight.’

  ‘Not till later.’ Raúl gazed down, saw her burning cheeks, and mistook it for arousal.

  He could never have guessed her fear.

  ‘I ache to be inside you.’

  Other couples had joined them. The music was low and sensual and it seemed to beat low in her stomach. His hand dusted her bare arm and she shivered at the thought of what was to come, wondered if those eyes, soft now with lust and affection, would darken in anger.

  ‘Raúl…’ Surely here was not the place to tell him, but it felt better with people around them rather than being alone. ‘I’m nervous about tonight.’

  ‘Why would you be nervous?’ he asked. ‘I will take good care of you.’

  He would, Raúl decided. He was rarely excited at the thought of monogamy but he actually wanted to take care of her, could not stand to think of what she might have put her body through. There was a surge of protectiveness that shot through him then, and his arms tightened around her. He could feel her tension and nervousness and again he wanted to make her smile.

  ‘Can I ask why,’ he whispered into her ear as they danced, ‘you embroidered a pineapple on my shirt?’

  ‘It’s a thistle!’

  A smile spread on her lips and he felt her relax a little in his arms.

  ‘For Scotland.’

  Raúl found himself smiling too. ‘All day I have been trying to work out the significance of a pineapple.’

  She started to laugh and Raúl found himself laughing a little too.

  He lowered his head and kissed her lightly.

  It was expected, of course. What groom would not kiss his bride?

  Many times since he had put his proposition to her Estelle had had doubts—the morality of it, the feasibility of it, the logistics—but as he kissed her, as she felt his warm lips and the soft caress of his hand near the base of her spine, true doubt as to her ability to go through with the deal surfaced. For once it had nothing to do with her hymen. She was suddenly more worried about her heart.

  It was the music. It was the moment. It was having her brother here. It was Raúl’s kiss. All these things, she told herself, were the reasons she felt as she did—as if this were real…as if this were love.

  Estelle excused herself a little while later and went to the bathroom, just so she might collect herself, but brides could not easily hide on their wedding day.

  ‘Estelle?’ She turned at the sound of a woman’s voice. ‘I am Angela—Raúl’s father’s PA.’

  ‘Raúl has spoken about you,’ Estelle responded carefully.

  ‘I’m sure what he had to say was not very flattering.’ There were tears in the older woman’s eyes. ‘Estelle, I don’t know what to believe…’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘About this sudden marriage.’ Angela was being as up-front with Estelle as she was with Raúl. ‘I do know, though, that Raúl seems the happiest I have seen him. If you do love your husband…’

  ‘If?’

  ‘I apologise,’ Angela said. ‘Given that you surely love your husband, I ask this not for me, and not even for Antonio’s sake. Whatever Raúl thinks of me, I care for him. I want him to come and visit us. I want us to be a family, even for a little while.’

  ‘You could have had that years ago.’ Estelle answered as she hoped Raúl would expect his loyal wife to.

  ‘I want him to make peace with his father while there is still time. I don’t want him to have any guilt when his father passes. I know how much guilt he has over his mother.’

  Estelle blinked, unsure how to respond because there was so much she didn’t know about Raúl. What did he have to feel guilty about? Raúl had been a child, after all. He had agreed to tell her more on their honeymoon—had said that he would be the one to deal with any questions tonight.

  ‘I have always loved Raúl. I have always thought of him as a son.’

  ‘So why did you leave it so late to tell him?’ Perhaps it was the emotion of the day, but the tears that flashed in Estelle’s eyes were real. ‘If you cared so much for him—’

  Estelle halted. It wasn’t her place to ask, and Raúl certainly wouldn’t thank her for delving. She was here to ensure his father left his share of the business to him, that was all. She would do well to remember that.

  ‘I do care,’ Angela responded. ‘Whatever Raúl thinks of me, from a distance I have loved him as a son.’

  ‘From a distance?’ Estelle repeated, making the bitter point.

  Turning on her heel, she walked out and straight into Raúl’s arms.

  ‘She wanted to speak about you,’ Estelle told him. ‘I don’t know how well I handled it.’

  ‘We’ll discuss it later,’ Raúl said, for he had seen Angela follow her in. ‘Now we have to hand out the favours.’

  It really was an amazing party, and for reasons of her own Estelle didn’t particularly want it to end.

  As per tradition, the bride and groom had to see off all their guests and be the last to leave. Antonio tired first, and she felt the grip of Raúl’s hand tighten on hers as his father left with his loyal PA.

  ‘It’s been great,’ Andrew said as he prepared to head back to the hotel he was staying in. ‘Once Cecelia is well, and I’m working, I’m going to bring Amanda and Cecelia here for a holida
y, to visit you.’

  ‘You do that,’ Estelle said, and bent down and gave her brother a cuddle, then stood as Raúl shook his hand.

  ‘Look after my sister.’

  ‘You do not have to worry about that.’

  ‘Have a great honeymoon.’

  A driver sorted out the wheelchair and they waved Andrew off and then headed back inside.

  Apart from the staff it was just Raúl and Estelle now, and still the music went on as they danced their last dance of the night.

  ‘It really helped having Andrew here.’ Her hands were round the back of his neck, he held her hips, and she would give anything not to disappoint him tonight—anything to be the experienced lover he assumed she was.

  ‘I thought it might.’

  ‘It didn’t just help me,’ Estelle admitted, and started to tell him about how Andrew’s confidence had been lacking.

  But he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. ‘Enough about others.’

  Estelle swallowed. She could feel his fingers exploring the halter neck, his other hand running down the row of tiny buttons that ran to the base of her spine, and she knew he was planning his movements, undressing her slowly in his mind as they danced.

  ‘Raúl…’ His mouth was working over her bare shoulder, kissing it deeply; she could feel the soft suction, feel the heat of his tongue and his ardour building. ‘I’ve never slept with anyone before.’

  He moaned into her shoulder and pulled her tighter into him, so she could feel every inch of the turn-on he thought she was giving him.

  ‘I mean it.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘You’ll be my first.’

  ‘Come on, then.’ His mouth was now at her ear. ‘Let’s go and play virgins.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  THEY WERE DRIVEN the short distance to the marina, but for Estelle it just passed in a blur.

  It was almost morning, yet despite the hour the celebrations continued.

  Alberto, the skipper, welcomed them, and briefly introduced the staff—but Estelle barely took in the names, let alone her surroundings. All she could think of was what was soon to come as the crew toasted them and then Raúl dismissed them.

  ‘Tomorrow I will show you around properly,’ Raúl said, taking her champagne glass. ‘But for now…’

  There was no escaping. He pulled her towards him, his tongue back on her neck, at the crease between her neck and shoulder. He had been mentally undressing her before, for now his hands moved straight to the halter neck and expertly unravelled the carefully tied bow.

  He had been expecting a basque, had anticipated another contraption to disable, but the dress had an inbuilt bra and he gave a low growl of approval as one of the breasts that had filled his private visions in recent days fell heavy and ripe into his palm.

  ‘Raúl, someone might come…’

  ‘That would be you,’ he said, but she did not relax. ‘No one will disturb us.’

  Raúl lowered his head and licked around the pale areola, flicked a nipple that had been crushed all day by fabric back into rapid life, surprised that she was concerned that someone might come in. The staff on his yacht had seen many a decadent party—a husband and wife on their wedding night paled in comparison with what usually took place. He took the breast he craved in his mouth again, felt her hand try to push him back. He was at first surprised by her reticence—but then he remembered their game.

  ‘Of course.’ He smiled. ‘You are nervous.’

  He lifted her up and carried her down to the master stateroom, kissing her the entire way. He lowered her to the ground, turning her around so he could work on the tiny buttons from behind. It did not halt his mouth; his tongue kissed every inch of newly exposed flesh till her spine felt as if it were on fire.

  He peeled off her dress, then her shoes and stockings. As his tongue licked and nibbled her sex through her silk panties the sensations his mouth delivered drove her wild. He only removed her panties when the moisture his mouth had made matched the dampening silk.

  ‘Raúl…’ Her hands were on his head—contrary hands that tried to halt him, while her moans of mounting desire urged him on.

  ‘I want you so bad.’ He peeled off her panties and, kneeling, parted her lips, his tongue darting to the swelling bud over and over as her hands knotted in his hair.

  ‘Raúl…’ she whimpered, lost between bliss and fear. ‘I’m serious. I really haven’t slept with anyone before.’

  He simply didn’t believe her. As she came under his mouth she had a hopeless thought that maybe he wouldn’t guess, maybe he wouldn’t know. Because despite her

  naïveté her body responded with ease. She throbbed against his mouth, more aroused than sated as he softly kissed the lingering orgasm.

  He relished her taste, was assured she was moist. He was desperate now to take her.

  He rose to his full height then, and shrugged his jacket off.

  Breathless, aroused, moving on instinct, her hands shaking with want, she undid the buttons of his shirt. He was so dark and sultry, and he wore it well. His lips parted as her hands roamed his chest and she licked at his nipples as she undid his belt.

  Raúl wanted her fingers at his zipper, and he wished she would hurry, but she lingered instead, feeling his thick heat through the fabric, her fingers lightly exploring. His already aching erection hardened further beneath her fingers. ‘Estelle…’ He could barely get the word out, but thankfully she read the urgency and slid the zipper down, and he let out a breath as she freed him.

  He was delicious to her hands. She ran her fingers along his length, felt the soft skin that belied the strength beneath. She was petrified at the thought of him inside her, but wanting him just the same. She could see a trickle of silver and caught it with her finger, then swirled it around the head, entranced by its beauty.

  Raúl closed his eyes in a mixture of frustration and bliss, for he wanted her hand to grip him tight, yet conversely he liked the tentative tease and exploration, liked the feel of her other hand gently weighing him.

  Deeply they kissed, his tongue urging her to move faster, his erection twitching at the pleasure of her teasing, till he could take it no more.

  ‘Te quiero.’

  He told her he wanted her in Spanish as he pushed her onto the bed. ‘Tengo que usted tiene.’ He told her he had to have her as he parted her legs.

  ‘Be gentle.’ She was writhing and hot beneath him, her words contrary to the wanton woman in his arms. Her sex was slippery and warm and engorged as his hand stroked her there. She was as close to coming as Raúl, and his answer to her final plea was delivered as he nudged her entrance.

  ‘It’s way too late for gentle, baby.’

  How he regretted those words as he seared and tore into her.

  Raúl heard her sob, heard her bite back a scream.

  Estelle knew then she had been a fool to think he might somehow not notice. He tore through her barrier but the pain did not end there. His fierce erection drove through tight muscles full of resistance. Too late to halt, too late to be tender, he froze—just not quickly enough. He leant on his elbows above her as she tried to work out how to breathe with Raúl inside her.

  He attempted slow withdrawal. She begged that he did not. She lay there, trying to accommodate him, waiting for the heat and pain to subside, her muscles clamped around him.

  ‘I take it out slowly,’ Raúl said. He felt sick—appalled by his own brutality—and guilty too at the pleasure of her, hot and tight around him. He was so close to coming and trying to hold on. ‘I’ll just—’

  ‘Don’t.’

  Her eyes were screwed tight as he moved a fraction backwards, but when he halted, when he stilled, her body relaxed a little. Estelle tried to release herself. She moved to slide away from him. Yet the pain was subsiding to a throbbing heat so she
moved again, warming to the sensation of him inside her.

  It was a different type of command she gave next. ‘Don’t stop.’

  ‘Estelle?’ He did not want to stop, and yet he did not want to hurt her; he moved slowly a little within her, his breath shallow, panting as if he had already come.

  Her hands moved to his buttocks and she felt them tauten beneath her fingers. It was Estelle who pressed and dictated the tempo and, rarely for Raúl, he let her. Rarely for Raúl, he was humbled. He did not think of the questions he must ask her, just focused on the tight grip and the heat of her on his unsheathed skin, and all he could do was kiss her. Every inch of him held back, resisting the beckoning of oiled muscles that gripped as he slid past them, that urged him now to move faster, to take her deeper.

  Estelle’s breath was quickening. He felt the somewhat impatient rise of her groin, the press of her hands in his buttocks, and he could hold back no more.

  Still he had not taken her fully, but now he thrust in. Estelle’s neck arched as he probed and located fresh virgin flesh with each deepening thrust, and when he had filled her, when every part of her was consumed, he moved out and did it again, angling his hips, hitting her deep inside till she was moaning.

  He was moving fast now, and she wrapped her legs around him, could not believe how her body had just taken over. For she lifted to him, was building to him, working with him, both heading to the same mutual goal.

  No longer naïve, her body shattered in an orgasm like nothing she had ever given herself—for there she could stop, there she could halt. And it was nothing like the teasing he had given her either, for here in Raúl’s bed he urged her on further, broke all limits, ensured that she screamed.

  She pulsed around the head of him. He was stroking her deep inside—one spot that had her sobbing, one tender spot that he hit over and over—till she sobbed, and then he released himself into her. Her thighs were in spasm as a fresh wave of orgasm crashed through her body—and, yes, just as he had warned her, she cussed him in Spanish till he kissed her, till she was lying beneath him no longer a virgin.