by Anna Zaires
He doesn’t answer, but his large hand covers mine, holding it pressed against his face for a few moments. He closes his eyes, as though absorbing the sensation, and when he opens them, the moment is gone.
Shifting me off his lap, he drapes a heavy arm over my shoulders and settles me comfortably against his side. “Get some rest, my pet,” he murmurs into my hair. “We still have a ways to go before we get home.”
* * *
I fall asleep on the plane again, so I have no idea how long the flight is. Julian shakes me awake after we land, and I follow him sleepily off the plane.
Warm, humid air hits me as soon as we disembark, so thick it feels like a damp blanket. Bogotá had been much warmer than Chicago, with the temperature somewhere in the high sixties, but this . . . this feels like I stepped into a wet sauna. With my winter boots and a fleece sweater, I feel like I’m being cooked alive.
“Bogotá is at a much higher elevation,” Julian says, as though reading my mind. “Down here, it’s tierra caliente—the low-elevation hot zone.”
“Where are we?” I ask, waking up a bit more. I can hear the chirping of insects, and the smell in the air is that of lush green vegetation, of the tropics. “Which part of the country, I mean?”
“The southeast,” Julian replies, leading me toward an SUV waiting on the other side of the runway. “We’re actually right on the edge of the Amazon rainforest.”
I lift my hand to rub at the corner of my eye. I don’t know much about Colombian geography, but that sounds very remote to me. “Are we near some villages or towns?”
“No,” Julian says. “That’s the beauty of this location, my pet. We’re completely isolated and safe. Nobody will bother us here.”
We reach the car, and he helps me inside. Lucas joins us a couple of minutes later, and then we’re off, driving down an unpaved road through a heavily wooded area.
It’s pitch-black outside, the headlights of the car our only source of illumination, and I peer curiously through the darkness, trying to discern our destination. All I can see, however, are trees and more trees.
Abandoning that futile effort, I decide to get more comfortable instead. It’s cooler in the car with the air conditioning working full-blast, but I’m still too hot, so I take off my sweater. Thankfully, I’m wearing a tank top underneath. As the chilly air blows across my heated skin, I sigh with relief, fanning myself to accelerate the cooling process.
“I have clothes for you here that are more weather-appropriate,” Julian says, observing my actions with a half-smile. “I probably should’ve thought to bring them with me, but I was far too eager to retrieve you.”
“Oh?” I glance at him, absurdly pleased by his admission.
“I came after you as soon as I could,” he murmurs, his eyes gleaming in the dark interior of the car. “You didn’t think I’d leave you alone for long, did you?”
“No, I didn’t,” I say softly. And it’s the truth. If there’s one thing I’ve always been sure of, it’s that Julian wants me. I’m not sure if he loves me—if he’s capable of loving anyone—but I’ve never doubted the strength of his desire for me. He risked his life for me back at that warehouse, and I know he would do so again. It’s a certainty that goes bone-deep and fills me with a peculiar sense of comfort.
Closing my eyes, I lean back against the seat with another sigh. The dichotomy of my emotions makes my head hurt. How can I be upset with Julian for forcing me to marry him and at the same time be glad that he couldn’t wait to abduct me again? What sane person feels that way?
“We’ve arrived,” Julian says, interrupting my musings, and I open my eyes, realizing that the car had stopped.
In front of us is a sprawling two-story mansion surrounded by several smaller structures. Bright outdoor lights illuminate everything in the vicinity, and I can see wide green lawns and lush, meticulously maintained landscaping. Julian wasn’t exaggerating when he called this place an estate.
I can also see some of the security measures, and I gaze around curiously as Julian helps me out of the car and leads me toward the main building. On the far edges of the property, there are towers spaced a few dozen yards apart, with armed men visible at the top of each one.
It’s almost as if we’re in prison, except that these guards are meant to keep the bad people out, not in.
“You grew up here?” I ask Julian as we approach the house. It’s a beautiful white building with stately columns at the front. It reminds me a bit of Scarlett O’Hara’s plantation from Gone with the Wind.
“I did.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “I spent most of my time here until I was about seven or eight. After that, I was usually in the cities with my father, helping him with business.”
After we walk up the porch steps, Julian stops at the doorway and bends down to lift me into his arms. Before I can say anything, he carries me over the threshold, setting me back on my feet once we’re inside. “No reason why we can’t observe this little tradition,” he murmurs with a mischievous grin, maintaining his hold on my sides as he looks down at me.
My lips twitch in an answering smile. I can never resist Julian when he’s being playful like this. “Ah, yes, I forgot that you’re Mr. Traditional today,” I tease, purposefully trying not to think about the forced nature of our marriage. It’s important for my sanity to keep the good times separate from the bad, to live in the moment as much as possible. “And here I thought you just felt like picking me up.”
“I did,” he admits, his grin widening. “It’s the first time my inclinations and tradition have coincided, though, so why don’t we go with ‘observing tradition’?”
“I’m game,” I say softly, gazing up at him. In this moment, my mind is firmly in the ‘good times’ camp, and I would gladly go along with anything he wants, do anything he wants.
“Señor Esguerra?” An uncertain female voice interrupts us, and I turn to see a middle-aged woman standing there. She’s wearing a black short-sleeved dress, with a white apron wrapped around her rounded frame. “Everything is ready, just as you requested,” she says in accented English, watching us with barely restrained curiosity. “Should I serve you dinner?”
“No, thank you, Ana,” Julian replies, his hand resting possessively on my hip. “Just bring a tray with some sandwiches to our room, please. Nora is tired from our travels.” Then he looks down at me. “Nora, this is Ana, our housekeeper. Ana, this is Nora, my wife.”
Ana’s brown eyes widen. Apparently the ‘wife’ bit is as much of a shock to her as it had been to me. She recovers quickly, though. “Very pleased to meet you, Señora,” she says, giving me a wide smile. “Welcome.”
“Thank you, Ana. It’s nice to meet you too.” I smile back, ignoring the sharp pain squeezing my chest. This housekeeper is nothing like Beth, but I can’t help thinking of the woman who had become my friend—and of her cruel, pointless death.
No, don’t go there, Nora. The last thing I need is to wake up screaming from another nightmare.
“Please make sure we’re not disturbed tonight,” Julian instructs Ana, “unless it’s something urgent.”
“Yes, Señor,” she murmurs, and disappears through the wide double doors leading out of the entryway area.
“Ana is one of the staff here,” Julian explains as he guides me toward a wide, curved staircase. “She’s been with my family in one capacity or another for most of her life.”
“She seems very nice,” I say, studying my new home as we walk up the stairs. I’ve never been inside such a lavish residence, and I can hardly believe I’m going to be living here. The decor is a tasteful mix of old-fashioned charm and modern elegance, with gleaming wooden floors and abstract art on the walls. I suspect the gilded picture frames alone are more expensive than anything I had in my studio apartment back home. “How many people are on the staff?”
“There are two who always take care of the house,” Julian answers. “Ana, whom you’ve just met, and Rosa, who’s the maid. You’ll p
robably meet her tomorrow. There are also several gardeners, handymen, and others who oversee the property as a whole.” Pausing in front of one of the doors upstairs, he opens it for me. “Here we are. Our bedroom.”
Our bedroom. That has a very domestic ring to it. On the island, I had my own room, and even though Julian slept with me most nights, it still felt like my private space—something I apparently wouldn’t have here.
Stepping inside, I cautiously survey the bedroom.
Like the rest of the house, it has an opulent, old-fashioned feel to it, despite several modern touches. There is a thick blue rug on the floor, and a massive four-poster bed in the center. Everything is done in shades of blue and cream, with some gold and bronze mixed in. The drapes covering the windows are thick and heavy, like in a luxury hotel, and there are a few more abstract paintings on the walls.
It’s beautiful and intimidating, like the man who is now my husband.
“Why don’t we take a bath?” Julian says softly, stepping up behind me. His powerful arms fold around me, his fingers reaching for my belt buckle. “I think we could both use one.”
“Sure, that sounds good,” I murmur, letting him undress me. It makes me feel like a doll—or maybe a princess, given our surroundings. As Julian tugs off my shirt and pushes down my jeans, his hands brush against my bare skin, causing tingles of heat to ripple down to my core.
Our wedding night. Tonight is our wedding night. My breathing quickens from a combination of arousal and nerves. I don’t know what Julian has in store for me, but the hard ridge pressing against my lower back leaves no doubt that he intends to fuck me again.
When I am completely naked, I turn to face him and watch as he takes off his own clothes, his well-defined muscles gleaming in the soft light coming from the recessed ceiling. His body is slightly leaner than before, and there is a new scar near his ribcage. Still, he’s the most striking man I have ever seen. He’s already fully erect, his thick, long cock jutting out at me, and I swallow, my sex clenching at the sight. At the same time, I am cognizant of a faint soreness deep inside and the continued tenderness of my bruised bottom.
I want him, but I don’t know if I can handle any more pain today.
“Julian . . .” I hesitate, unsure how to best phrase it. “Is there any way . . . Can we—?”
He steps toward me, framing my face with his large hands. His eyes glitter brightly as he looks down at me. “Yes,” he whispers, understanding my unspoken question. “Yes, baby, we can. I will give you the wedding night of your dreams.”
Chapter 7
Julian
Bending down, I hook my arm under her knees and pick her up. She barely weighs anything, her small frame impossibly light as I carry her to the bathroom, where Ana prepared the jacuzzi for us.
My wife. Nora is now my wife. The fierce satisfaction I feel at the thought makes no sense, but I don’t intend to dwell on it. She’s mine, and that’s all that matters. I will fuck her and pamper her, and she will fulfill my every need, no matter how dark and twisted. She will give me all of herself, and I will take it.
I will take it all, and then I’ll demand more.
Tonight, though, I will give her what she wants. I will be sweet and gentle, as tender as any husband with his new bride. The sadist inside me is quiescent for now, content. There will be plenty of time later to punish her for her reluctance at the church. At this moment, I have no desire to hurt her—I just want to hold her, to stroke her silky skin and feel her shuddering with pleasure in my arms. My cock is hard, throbbing with need, but the hunger is different now, more controlled.
Reaching the large round jacuzzi, I step in and lower both of us into the bubbling water, sitting down with Nora ensconced on my lap. She lets out a blissful sigh and relaxes against me, closing her eyes and putting her head on my shoulder. Her glossy hair tickles my skin, the long ends floating in the water. I shift slightly, letting the strong jets pummel my back, and feel the tension gradually draining out of me despite my lingering arousal.
For a couple of minutes, I am content to just sit there, holding her cradled in my arms. Despite the sweltering heat outside, the temperature inside the house is cool, and the hot water feels good on my skin. Soothing. I imagine it feels good to Nora too, easing the soreness from the bruises I inflicted earlier.
Lifting my hand, I lazily stroke her back, marveling at the smoothness of her golden skin. My dick twitches, clamoring for more, but I’m in no rush this time. I want to prolong this moment, to heighten the anticipation for us both.
“This is nice,” she murmurs after a while, tilting her head back to gaze at me. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the water and her lids are partially lowered, making her look like she’s already been thoroughly fucked. “I wish I could take a bath like this every day.”
“You can,” I say softly, shifting her off my lap so she’s facing me and reaching under the water to pick up her right foot. “You can do whatever you want here. It’s your home now.”
Applying light pressure to her sole, I begin to massage it the way she likes, enjoying the quiet moans that escape her lips at my touch. Her feet are small and pretty, like the rest of her. Sexy even, with the pink polish on her slender toes. Giving in to a sudden urge, I lift her foot to my mouth and suck on it lightly, swirling my tongue around each toe. She gasps, staring at me, and I can hear her breathing picking up, see her eyes darkening with arousal. This turns her on, I realize, and the knowledge makes my dick harden further.
Holding her gaze, I reach for Nora’s other foot and give it the same treatment. Her toes curl at the touch of my tongue and her breathing becomes unsteady, her own tongue coming out to moisten her lips. The ache in my groin intensifying, I release her foot and slowly slide my hand up the inside of her leg, feeling her thigh muscles quivering with tension as I approach her sex. My fingers brush against her pussy, parting the soft folds. Then I push the tip of my middle finger into her small opening, using my thumb to press on her clit at the same time.
Inside, she’s impossibly hot and slick, her inner walls gripping my finger so tightly that my cock jumps in response. She lets out a soft moan, lifting her hips toward me, and my finger slides deeper into her, causing a choked cry to issue from her throat. She scoots back reflexively, as though trying to pull away, but I wrap my free hand around her arm and pull her toward me, gathering her against my side. “Don’t fight it, baby,” I murmur, holding her still as I begin to fuck her with my finger, my thumb applying even, rhythmic pressure to her clit. “Just let yourself feel . . . Yes, that’s it . . .”
Her head falls back and her eyes close, an expression of intense rapture appearing on her face as she lets out another moan.
Beautiful. She’s so fucking beautiful. I can’t tear my gaze away, drinking in the sight of her coming apart in my arms. Her slim body arches and tightens, and then she cries out as her flesh ripples around my finger in release, the squeezing motion making my dick throb in agonized need.
I can’t take this much longer. Withdrawing my finger, I slide my hands under her body and pick her up as I rise to my feet. She opens her eyes and loops her arms around my neck, watching me intently as I step out of the jacuzzi and begin carrying her back to the bedroom. We’re both dripping with water, but I can’t bear to stop for even a moment. I don’t give a fuck about getting our sheets wet right now—I don’t give a fuck about anything except her.
Reaching the bed, I put her down, my hands shaking with violent lust. On any other night, I would already be inside her, pounding her tight little pussy until I explode, but not tonight. Tonight is for her. Tonight I will give her what she asked for—a wedding night with a lover, not a monster.
She watches me, her dark eyes slumberous with desire as I climb onto the bed between her legs and bend over her soft, tender flesh. Ignoring my aching cock, I begin with small kisses on the insides of her thighs and then move up until I reach my goal: her wet cleft, pink and swollen from her earlier orgasm.
When she finally goes limp, breathing heavily from her release, I crawl over her and kiss the delicate shell of her ear. I’m not done with her yet, not by a long shot.
“You’re so sweet,” I whisper, feeling her shiver at the heat of my breath. My cock throbs harder at her response, my balls full to bursting, and my next words come out low and rough, almost guttural. “So fucking sweet . . . I want to fuck you so badly, but I won’t—” I tongue the underside of her earlobe, causing her hands to clutch convulsively at my sides, “—not until you come for me again. You think you can come for me, baby?”
“I . . . I don’t think so . . .” She gasps, twisting in my arms as my mouth moves down to the smooth column of her throat, leaving a warm, damp trail on her skin.
“Oh, I think you can,” I murmur, my right hand slipping down her body to feel her soaking-wet pussy. As my lips travel over her shoulders and upper chest, I massage her swollen clit with my fingers, and she begins to pant again, her breathing becoming erratic as my mouth approaches her breasts. Her rosy nipples are hard, practically begging for my touch, and I close my lips over one taut bud, sucking on it strongly. She lets out a sound that’s halfway between a moan and a whimper, and I turn my attention to the other nipple, sucking on it until she’s trembling underneath me, the moisture from her sex inundating my hand. Before she can reach her peak, however, I slither down her body and taste her again, my tongue pushing inside her just as her contractions begin anew.