31. Nero
Chapter 31
Nero
“ W hat? Do I have a powder sugar mustache?” Ariella asks.
She’s using her diva tone. Which, by the way, is fucking adorable, especially with the powder sugar sticking to her cheek.
She tears off a piece of the funnel cake and offers it to me. I take it in my mouth, licking her fingers seductively to get her flustered. The intoxicating pink that rises up her cheeks is the reward.
We drove to a nearby town to attend their county fair, where she could try a funnel cake and cross it off her bucket list. The experience was new for both of us.
Ariella was sheltered, which made her appreciate the simplest of life’s pleasures. And since my childhood was a series of unfortunate events, I had a hard time enjoying these activities.
Watching kids laughing and playing always sort of triggered me back to a place of wondering why I didn’t get to have that. Being here with her, though, playing carnival games, and the laughter on her face had a way of making things from the past irrelevant.
“What do you want to do next, Princess?” I ask.
Her eyes roam over the vibrant neon colors and the crowds of people. The air was thick with a scent that reminded me of her cupcake body spray.
“Can we ride the Ferris wheel next?” she asks.
Normally, I would avoid trusting any moving machine that some questionable-looking people controlled, but how can I tell her no? I grab her hand and lead her to the large Ferris Wheel. Before we slide in, I slip the Carnie running it a hundred-dollar bill and tell him to leave us at the top for at least thirty minutes.
“Oh my god, I’m so nervous.” She says, taking a deep breath.
“You’re still afraid of heights, Maniká?”
Looking out of the enclosed cab, her eyes widen as we move higher into the air.
“The worst thing that can happen is we die,” I say.
“Wow. Real comforting.” She snarks.
Mission accomplished. Getting her frazzled was part of the foreplay for me.
“Come here,” I command.
“No thanks.”
“That’s an order, Ariella.”
“Really? We’re going to do this. Right here?” she whispers like someone can hear us 150 feet up in the air.
“One. Two.” I push my weight forward, causing the cab to rock.
“Okay. Okay.” She surrenders.
“Okay?” I ask, my voice lowering.
“I mean. Yes.” Taking a deep breath, she corrects herself. “Yes, sir.”
She closes her eyes and moves to my side of the cab. The swinging of the cab frightens her as she falls into my lap and latches on to me. Little by little, we make our ascension to the top.
“What’s going on? Nero? Why are we stopping?”
Ignoring her, I move her to the side and drop to my knees in front of her. Her big green eyes widen when I pull up her pink floral sundress.
“You’re such a cocktease wearing this tiny little dress. Just begging to be fucked.”
Lust-filled eyes stare back at me. Hooking my fingers through the sides of her thong, I take my time lowering it. Slowly moving the hot pink thong down her thighs and over her pink sandals.
Sundresses would now be a weekly mandatory. Beyond the very femininity radiating from her, I loved how the fabric showed off my favorite features.
Smooth legs sprouted from the short hem, and her large breasts overflowed from the ruched top. She had been teasing me all day.
I bring her panties up to my nostrils, taking in the smell of her arousal. Her face flushes red, triggering the carnal urges inside me. The ones yelling at me to feast on her pussy and annihilate it until her body is spent and my jaw is sore.
Wrapping my hands around her thighs, I pull her toward me. The cab tilts and her body stiffens. I dive between her legs, gently lapping my tongue up and down. Nibbling on her clit as I release a husky moan of satisfaction.
“You taste like perfection,” I growl.
Perfection wasn’t even comparable to the way she tasted on my tongue. Her back arches off the seat and her legs fall apart as she withers beneath me.
Moans escape her as she gives into the pleasure coursing through her as I fuck her with my tongue. I stop briefly to peek up and see her hooded eyes. So fucking beautiful.
“Ride my face, Princess,” I growl into her pussy before diving back in with more thirst and hunger.
My tongue finds her opening and thrusts inside her manically. Her hands fly to my hair, and she grinds herself into me. I suck on her eagerly and rough -just the way she likes. Nibbling and sucking on the sensitive bud.
The fear that was present earlier has since vanished, even as the Ferris Wheel shifts to a lower elevation and stops abruptly. A warning I had little time to get her where I wanted her to be.
Tugging her hips closer, I demolish her pussy. Feasting madly on her as she cries out, fucking my face. I don’t stop until I feel her body jerk and the climax of her orgasm hit my face like a wave.
She goes limp in the seat as I lick up every last drop of her arousal. I leave a trail of kisses over her throbbing pussy and down her inner thighs. Pulling the hem of her dress back down, I look up to find her looking down at me. She reaches out a hand and cradles my face in her palm.
I wipe my face and return to the seat beside her, pulling her to my side. She slumps against me and interlaces her fingers in mine.
“Was I a good girl?” she whispers.
I’m grateful her head rests on my shoulder so she can’t see the goofy smile creeping across my face.
“You’re always a good girl, Maniká.”
The smile quickly fades when I glance at the new message on my phone.
Jasper
Cassiel’s Awake.
Ariella
“Damn bitch on the Ferris Wheel?” Cooper asks with loud excitement into the phone. I shush her with my eyes. “Sorry. I just don’t see why you can’t marry him instead of Lord Fuck Face.”
It was Preston’s official nickname. Once a woman and her friends gave you a nickname, there was no point of return. He’ll forever be Lord Fuck Face.
I run eyeliner under my bottom lid using our Facetime camera as a mirror. Trying to explain my situation to someone like Cooper was a foreign concept. She wasn’t a product of powerful drug-laundering families, nor was she living in their chaotic world.
A world where loyalty is a currency and love is a rarely attainable luxury.
“Did you see the coverage of you in Houstonia ?” Cooper says, changing the mellow subject.
“Someone said I looked like the Mayor of Whoville on Instagram,” I reply.
The asshole commenter ruined my love for the classic Christmas movie.
That day Sergio suggested I wear victory rolls in my hair for the photo shoot. Preston wanted to give off a vintage couple vibe. After doing some research on him, I found some of the policies he supported distasteful. It was no wonder he wanted to take us back to the 1950s.
“Your fan club loved it. You gotta stop focusing on the negative comments, girl.”
It was one bad comment in a sea of compliments, and my self-destructing brain chose to focus only on that one. Cooper was right, though. She was usually right, which is why I spent my lunch break talking to her instead of obsessing over what Nero was doing.
Midway through my bite into my Cobb salad, Thalia walks into our newly joined office. Our lunch break was only supposed to last an hour, but since Silas had returned, that hour had extended to two.
“I have a date tonight,” Cooper says, drawing my attention from Thalia’s disheveled look back to my Mac screen.
“Hey, girl!” Thalia shouts from her desk.
“Hey, Thali!” Cooper says.
The two had met at my birthday party and kicked it off instantly.
Our office door swings open, startling me as I hang up on Cooper and switch to the Excel sheets for the daily profits. Thalia sits up right before her eyes narrow on the intruder.
“Calavera Hotel to host a luxurious wedding for founder Vicente Consuelo’s granddaughter to Houston’s most eligible bachelor.” Enrique begins and slams a copy of Houstonia down onto my desk.
I can’t help but smile at how my Godfather boasts into the room. Fanning his fingers out, he crosses them in a circular motion.
“You are going to be a star—the Latina Jackie-O,” he says, looking down at my casual Friday attire.
“Crocs? Again?” his face distorts, and he shakes his head, unwilling to admit to himself I would wear such a thing.
Despite their ongoing rivalry, Enrique looks to his other niece. Thalia looks down with the same appalled look, then back at Enrique before shrugging her shoulder.
Rude.
“And look what it says about me.” He continues on ignoring my fashion violation.
Enrique flips the newspaper open and hands it to me, pointing at the mention of him. I grab the newspaper and look at Thalia. She rolls her eyes behind his back.
“Goddaughter of the infamous Enrique Consuelo, it’s no wonder the girl has pose and class. We can only imagine the extravagant wedding he has planned for the reigning Congressman and the prestige Miss Reyes.” I read out loud.
It’s two sentences, but to Enrique Consuelo, it is his drug of choice- validation.
“Infamous.” He says dramatically. “No, Ari, Mija, we can’t let this opportunity to shine go to waste. This is going to be the wedding of the year. No. Of the century.” He says, kissing me on the cheek before leaving the office.
I love him for his support, but it was also a subtle reminder that I had to go through with the wedding.
How can I disappoint my parents, let alone my Tio Enrique, who was using my wedding to showcase his party-planning talent?
After Preston’s commentary about Guapo, I dreaded the whole concept of spending forever with him. Anxiety consumes me. Tugging me from both sides. I didn’t want to disappoint my family, but Preston Cuevas is an asshole.
“Hey, I forgot to ask. How’s Rosie doing?” I ask Thalia when the memory resurfaces. The young girl looked shaken up at the party.
“?Quién sabe?” she lets out a long sigh. “She won’t talk to me. I get it. She doesn’t know me, but she refuses to talk to her mom or even see a therapist.” I frown at the thought.
Rosie had been forced to live with her stepmother. A woman who had been tormenting Thalia and Silas. Running a human trafficking ring where my other cousin Adrian’s mom had been trapped in. I can only imagine the secrets Rosie was bottling inside her.
“I wish I had someone to talk to.” The words meant to echo in my head fall carelessly from my mouth.
“What do you mean, Flaca? Did someone hurt you?” she asks, sitting up in her chair.
“No.” I lie.
This family was hurting me with their high expectations and social conformity.
Genesis provided more light on the situation of our past, but that didn’t stop the trauma of what took place afterward.
Lucio Biondini had felt us up and took pictures of our naked bodies. I’m sure he intended on doing much worse. My parents’ fix to that was sheltering me from the world. That didn’t take the wound away. Not when the real world awaiting me was full of more evil people.
The biggest triggering event was Cassiel kidnapping us. He sent the scumbag Officer Greyson to pick us up. Seeing him at the campaign brought up the memories of that day. What Greyson did to us before they separated Genesis and me. The man who took me home. The cold silence between us. His lack of humanity while I hyperventilated in the backseat, begging him to let me remove the hood. Begging him to go back for Genesis. He did nothing.
I wasn’t sure I could get past those memories. To some degree, I felt like I would never be free of the trauma. Yet there was this rage inside me taking root in my heart. Lucio Biondini was dead, but Cassiel was not. He needed to know what he did to me. I needed closure. To look him and his accomplices in the eyes and hold them accountable.
Thalia once told me to stand up for myself, and to be honest, I never thought I had the strength to do so. However, spending time with Nero has been therapeutic for my soul. Speaking up for myself wasn’t just something I needed to do in the bedroom but in every aspect of my life.
I’ll wait to figure out Preston’s agenda, but nothing stopped me from confronting Cassiel. As soon as I finish the workday, I grab my purse and head to the hospital.