by AJ Adams
“Sweet sirena. Angel, darling. Chiquitína.”
His words flowed over me like honey, curling round me sweetly, bathing me in love.
We lay there forever, waiting for the universe to fall into place again. It was peaceful down in the dungeon. The utter silence and the low lights made the place timeless. As I lay there, cocooned in comfortable warmth, my brain began churning again, and I knew I’d made a mistake.
Just a short time ago I was sitting in that rose garden, convinced that I was up shit creek. No family, no friends and no future. I’d been kicking myself for thinking that Arturo was the man for me. I was also frightened of what he’d do to me if I kept raging at him.
Back in London and in the plane I’d been so mad that I hadn’t cared, but sitting in his home, surrounded by opulence, I knew I had to be careful. Arturo hadn’t said a word, but I knew he wouldn’t put up with me giving him shit forever. He couldn’t. A cartel boss has to maintain respect, and you can’t do that when you’ve got a girl ragging you mercilessly in public.
I knew I had to make my peace with him, move on or both. The thing is that I have a temper. I was telling myself to keep cool, but when he sat next to me the rage flooded through me again. It gave me a hell of a surprise when he said I was the best thing that had happened to him.
You know, for a moment I actually believed him? I really did. Then, while he was talking about how good we were together, I realised that Arturo was not in love but in lust. He talked of my body but he didn’t know me. Hell, I didn’t know me! He was physically infatuated because we shared a kink.
I sat there and wondered what I really wanted. Looking at him telling me how he’d fallen for me as I danced for him, I knew I liked him still, despite everything that had happened, but I wasn’t sure I could trust him.
Arturo wanted me, loved fucking me, but his heart was with his family. Everything Arturo did was for them: from the shopping to the way he took out his enemies, it was all geared to keeping them safe. It was a quality I loved about him, and I’d naively hoped that he would extend that to me, but as he talked, Arturo made it clear he wasn’t asking me to be his wife or even his girlfriend. What he talked about was having a sex partner.
He’d been open to trying for a relationship but crucially, he’d hesitated about giving me an equal partnership. He’d even been cautious about trusting me to go out and about without asking him for permission first. It all argued that while Arturo talked of love, he really meant lust.
Although it hurt, I appreciated Arturo’s honesty. He’d laid out exactly what he loved about me: looks, sex and attitude. He told me he thought of me as a cut above the women he’d had before, but for all his talk of love, it wasn’t exactly a statement that he’d found his soul mate.
So I knew Arturo liked me, that he would be generous and would give me a fantastic sex life, but I didn’t hear him say that I was the love of his life. Or that he wanted me forever. I discounted the possessiveness; that was just the cartel man speaking. Men like Arturo have to own their pussy; it’s just part of the image.
The thing is, I wanted more. I knew I really could have fallen for Arturo in a big way because he was the complete package: brains, loyalty, generosity, power and a way of turning my knees to jelly with a single look.
The sensible thing would be to ask him to let me move on. Being around him and knowing I couldn’t have him and seeing him with his family, reminding me of all that I’d lost, would hurt too much. And when he fell out of lust, I’d be alone again. I knew it was stupid to leave myself open to that kind of pain. I should run, go somewhere safe. And that was the problem: I had nowhere to go.
I learned something about myself at that moment: I am very sensible. I wanted to cry, I wanted to beat his chest and beg him to love me forever, but I put aside my hurt, ignored my yearning and concentrated on securing my future.
Practicality is probably not a lovable trait. The blond arsehole in the pub had said I was a cold bitch, Danjuma had called me a frosty bitch, McClutsky had said I was an ice-cold bitch. They were probably right, but when you’re on your own, there’s no point in wallowing in emotion and getting into ever deeper shit when a bit of sense can give you security.
So I told my heart to shut the fuck up, and while Arturo was willing to be generous, I negotiated the best deal I could get. I got a good package: respect, a certain independence and a show of equality. I knew Arturo would stick to the deal, too. He made it clear that he was bored with whores, so we’d have something different.
I was sensible, so I decided I’d keep my eyes peeled for a job opportunity. Once I found something with a future, I’d ask Arturo to help me chart a career path. He’d shown me that he had a generous heart, and he was all for empowering women, so I didn’t anticipate a problem there. Arturo might even be relieved, knowing that giving me a chance to be independent meant he wouldn’t have to pension me off when he wanted a change.
I told myself all of this, and I tried shutting down my heart and thinking only of physical pleasure, but oh my God, when he tied me to the cross all that sense dissolved, and he slipped into my soul.
I lived and died for him, burned for him, cried for him, and then he took me out of myself and into paradise. Afterwards I couldn’t bear to let him go. I lay curled up in his arms, and I told myself sternly not to fall in love with this man. Like, yes, friendship, definitely, loyalty, certainly. But not love. That would be the way to heartbreak. But I knew it was too late. I’d given him my heart.
Arturo stroked the hair off my face and looked into my eyes. “All right, sirena?”
“Yes.” I said yes, but part of me wanted to cry. I knew I couldn’t live with him as a kind of a deal. But what’s the point of whining for what you can’t have? Except that I looked into those warm eyes, and I saw affection there. Real warm affection. It gave me courage, that look. I wanted to talk to him, but I couldn’t find the words.
Arturo dipped his head, kissing me. He was smiling. “We’ve got twenty-four hours before the family descends on us,” he said. “Let’s make the most of it.”
That didn’t sound good. “They won’t like me?” If they didn’t, Arturo would be hurt, and I didn’t like that idea.
He was silent for a moment. “Loli and Julia won’t. They’re my sisters. But they’ll get over it. Just be patient with them, okay? They’re a bit spoilt.” He kissed me again. “I was thinking about what you said earlier.”
“Oh?”
“I know I agreed to everything you asked for, but my balls were doing a lot of my thinking,” Arturo said quietly. “I don’t think this is going to work the way you thought.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, either.
He stopped me from speaking by putting a finger gently on my lips. “About your coming and going when you like, I said yes, but it won’t work.”
That hurt. “You don’t trust me?”
“I do trust you! Listen a minute, sirena. I want you to be happy, but if you run around by yourself, it’s just too dangerous.” Arturo was looking serious. “You offered me a deal, Solitaire. I took it because I want you. I’ll do my best about everything else, but I need to know where you are, always. And so do my people.”
“I can live with that. I just meant you have to trust me.”
“I do,” Arturo said. “But I don’t think you understood what you’ll have to sacrifice if you stay with me.”
“Sacrifice?”
“When people realise you’re not just a part-time girl, you’ll become a target. You’re going to have to live with the same kind of security I do. That means armoured cars, outriders, bodyguards, the works.” Arturo looked grave. “And that’s just the start of it, Solitaire. Living with me means giving up all sorts of freedoms that you’ve taken for granted. Going dancing, taking walks, hanging in the mall – all that will still be possible, but you won’t be able to just get up and go. Even with a detail, there are checks that have to be made before you leave. And while you’re out, som
eone will be tracking you. I’ve got GPS in my car, in my phone, and I have a chip hidden in my watch, too. You’ll have the same. Even then there will be times when you’ll be in lockdown, because it will be too dangerous to go out.”
He was telling me about his life.
“Solitaire, I can give you things, but you don’t care about jewellery and cars. I need you to understand what you’re getting into. Knowing what it means, do you think you could be happy with me?”
I just looked at him, breathless at his honesty. He was talking about letting me into his life. It’s what I yearned for, but there would be a price. Was I ready for this? Was it what I wanted?
“I’ll understand if you want to rethink this, Solitaire,” Arturo said. “I don’t want you taking a step you regret. And if you want to go, you can. I won’t hold you back.”
He was offering me freedom.
“I’ll give you some money, and I can get you a job,” Arturo said. “Or I’ll pay for a college course if you want. You wouldn’t be starting from nothing. And you could always ask for my help.”
I was stunned. Speechless. I suddenly realised I was staring at him with my mouth wide open.
“Sirena,” Arturo was looking seriously worried. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I said slowly. “I’m not.” And then I burst into tears.
So much for being sensible and cold-hearted, right?
Chapter Thirteen: Arturo
Who would have thought it? Whoever said honesty is the best policy got it right on the button. I could have let Solitaire walk into my life and let her discover what it involved, knowing by then it would be too late, but I played it straight. I thought for a horrible moment that she’d walk, and when she burst into tears I was certain of it.
Just as I felt my heart begin to break she flung her arms around me. “Oh God, yes please, Arturo! I want to stay!”
That’s when she told me she thought I was just infatuated with her.
“You need your head examined as well as your ears,” I told her. “For God’s sake, Solitaire! I told you I want you forever.”
“I thought you were just being romantic. When I said I wanted to be your girl, like a normal relationship, you hesitated so long that I thought it was just your dick talking. I thought you weren’t that into me.”
I was practically speechless. “Not that into you? I’m the world’s most cautious man, and yet I let you walk away from the manor, I didn’t suspect you when you ran off to that church, I didn’t care that you could have walked away any time when we were out clubbing, and I let you sit in on meetings, even after you told me you would spy on me!” Then, out of fairness, I added, “I was an asshole over the debrief but –”
Solitaire put a finger on my lips. “That’s forgotten.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She curled herself into my body. “I tried not to fall for you, Arturo, but I couldn’t help it.” She rubbed her cheek against mine. “After we bonked that first time, I felt like I’d come home.”
“Sirena.” I didn’t know what to say. Words just didn’t cover it. I crushed her to me. “I’m never letting you go.”
“Good.”
We lay there, just being happy. I stroked her hair, kissed her neck, and pretty soon I couldn’t wait to have her again. This time I just curled myself around her and fucked her slowly. She was red hot and creamy, melting all over my cock and peaking with gasping moans.
I ended up wrapping myself around her. She was hot, sweaty, half-conscious, and I never wanted to let her go. I brushed the hair off her face and felt a rush of possessiveness flood through me. “You’re all mine,” I whispered.
“Nashwf.”
I love post-orgasmic Solitaire. All that self-possession melts away, leaving a soft slushy sweetheart. I held her tightly, feeling on top of the world. I’d been blown away when fucking Solitaire in London, but this was in a different league. She was fantastic, the best I’d ever had, bar none.
Solitaire hadn’t known if she’d played games before, but I knew the second I’d secured her to the cross that she hadn’t. You see, Solitaire didn’t know consciously where she’d been or what she’d done, but the body remembers. I knew by the awkward way she moved when I put her up that this was totally new for her. The knowledge almost made me explode on the spot. She’d joked about being a virgin, and in a way she was. When I had her on the cross, all spread out for me, I was turned on as hell, but at the same time, I wanted to take care of her.
For once I thought with my head instead of my dick. Solitaire was totally in the zone, flushed and breathing all ragged, but she’d been through hell, courtesy of me mostly, and I know how fast scary-fun can turn into scary-nasty, so I took it slow.
It was the best decision I’d ever made. Solitaire started off enjoying herself, and as I racked it up notch by notch, she went from excitement to ecstasy. I drew it out, putting the coin into the game and intending to tease her by holding off when it fell to the floor. Instead, she ended up testing both of us. By the time she lifted her head, my balls were so blue that I could have been a Yale man. Sliding into her hot tight depths was like sliding into heaven. I had to recite the top twenty international stock exchanges in the world as I pumped into her. I didn’t make it; I blew at Moscow’s MICEX-RTS.
It was the best fuck ever, except for the one we had after, and the one in London after she’d danced for me. I knew from now on every time I touched her would be magical, and as I lay on the bed with her, I vowed I would make her happy.
I looked at the black hair fanning out over her shoulders and then looked up at the mirror on the ceiling. When you’ve been flogged, heat prevents bruising. Solitaire’s back was red but not excessively so, and I thought it unlikely she would suffer, but it’s better safe than sorry. Also, she might be dehydrated. I was edging my way out of bed, intending to get her a hot water bottle when Solitaire threw her arms around me.
“Don’t go,” she murmured in my ear. “Don’t leave me.”
As I said, post-bliss Solitaire is complete mush. “I’m just getting you some heat for your back and a cold drink.”
“Stay.”
I stayed. I lay there, saying absolutely nothing and feeling fucking fantastic.
We must have lain there for an hour when Solitaire finally stirred. “Arturo,” her blue eyes were looking deep into mine. “I’ve got this hollow feeling.”
“Yeah, me too. You’re the best thing in my life, ever.”
Solitaire grinned. “I was thinking dinner. I’ve lost track of time, but I think we’ve missed a meal or two.”
“Eggs? Tea?”
She closed her eyes and kissed me softly. “Yes, please. I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse and chase the jockey.”
“Come on then, let’s raid the kitchen.”
Luz goes home at night, but I’ve got people dropping round constantly, so she always leaves food for me in the fridge. We raided it, and ten minutes later I was frying steak and eggs while Solitaire was making tea and buttering bread. I hadn’t been domestic like this since college: my other women liked being waited on and were permanently on diets, so post-sex binges hadn’t figured much. I love to cook, but I usually have to wait till the family comes round for a barbecue, so I was enjoying myself.
Solitaire took one bite of the chicken fried steak and growled. “Oh my God, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten! What is this amazing sauce?”
“Salsa Criolla – jalapeño, cilantro and tomato.”
“A man who’s a dream in bed and the kitchen. Talk about falling on your feet!”
Solitaire was grinning, thoroughly enjoying herself. She had a streak of salsa on her lip, and all I could think of was that I wanted to lick it all off. She cleaned her plate with a piece of bread and finally sighed with satisfaction.
“You cooked, so I’ll do the dishes. Afterwards, will you give me a tour?”
I watched her ass jiggle as she scrubbed the pan, and then I kissed her in every room in
the house, including the maid’s storage closet. I felt like a college kid, excited at the thought of having a serious girl at last. It was totally chick flick, and I was in heaven.
We ended up in the back garden by the pool.
“It’s beautiful,” Solitaire sighed. “I love the gardens and the big squashy sofas, and this pool is a dream come true.”
“Want to go skinny-dipping?”
Solitaire instantly whipped off her top. “Yup. Listen, if I don’t know how to swim, fish me out, okay?” And before I could say another word, she ran over the grass and jumped in the water.
Me, I almost had a heart attack.
“What do you mean, if you can’t swim?” I was talking to ripples on the surface. I was kicking off my jeans, about to jump in after her when she breast-stroked to the surface.
“This is brilliant!” She flipped her heels over her head and dove to the bottom, her hair swirling around her in a cloud. I shucked my clothes and followed her in.
By the time we’d challenged each other to see who could sit on the bottom longest and who did the fastest crawl, I was hard for her again. We ended up in the shallows, and afterwards I settled with her on the terrace, cuddling deep into a peacock chair I brought back from a trip to Jakarta a couple of years ago. I’ve always liked that chair, and now I discovered it’s perfectly sized for two, as well.
The lights were low, but I could see Solitaire’s eyes were half lidded and her mouth soft.
“Happy, sirena?”
“Hmmm, yes. And thoroughly bonked.” She yawned, a jaw cracking affair that came with a little stretch.
I stroked a lock of hair off her face. “You didn’t know if you could swim?”
“Nope.” The sapphire eyes were looking into mine. “Everything that’s a habit, like brushing my teeth or making tea, just comes automatically, and if I don’t think about it, I know stuff like Princeton is an American Ivy League university, but I don’t know where I was last week or last year, even.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No.” Solitaire sounded certain. “I know I had a shitty time, Arturo, and I don’t want to dwell on it.” She hesitated. “I get flashes, and they’re depressing as hell. I’m hoping it will just go away.”