His Valentine (Tangled in Temptation)

Prologue

Winnie

Four Years Earlier

“Mi carino,” my husband says huskily into my ear. He came home, dropping his clothes along the way, leaving them where they fall, and only having one thing on his mind. Me. The covers disappear from around my body in a quick flash of movement. I’m completely bare, more than ready for Johnny to slide deep inside me, I’m more than ready, wetness coating my greedy center, and waiting for him to me fill the only way he can.

The cold air coming from the air conditioner causes my flesh to pebble, Johnny runs hot all the time, in the dead of winter and definitely in the summer. I’ve become accustomed to him needing the thermostat cranked down, it still doesn’t mean I don’t freeze when I’m not covered up. Earlier in the night I sent a text, letting him know I was heading to bed. Usually, I’d try to my hardest to stay awake, tonight proved to be too hard, and I only have myself to blame for it. After work, I met up with my sister, trying to talk sense into her. When that didn’t work, I came home, ate dinner, took a hot bath, and crawled into bed.

Johnny, a man who isn’t shy in the least about what he wants told me he wanted me naked or in one of his shirts with nothing on. I knew what that meant, I’ve had more than my fair shares of experiences when it comes to my husbands demands. Tonight isn’t any different, especially when he’s had a rough night at the club he owns, Undercover Lovers .

“Johnny,” his name comes out raspy, drifting from my lips when his cock meets my wetness. He drags the length of himself along my slit, making sure I’m ready.

“Fuck me, Jesus, fuck me.” Johnny’s gaze drops from my eyes to where he’s working me up into a panicked frenzy one where I’m ready to beg for him to finally take me. I prop myself up on my elbows, wanting to see what he’s seeing. My breath hitches, my husband’s heavy girth is laying on top of me, thick and long, and all mine. It’s no wonder he’s holding himself in place, the look of us alone is enough to send me into orbit. Johnathan Tomás Gonzales is everything I’m not. He comes from a loving family, he’s successful in anything he touches, his friend group is out of this world amazing, and the best part about him is he doesn’t see me for my shortcomings. Not my lack of family, not the fact that I work a minimum paid job at an art gallery but love it. Johnny doesn’t even mind that the only friends I have is one from my place of employment and by him, his friends too.

“It never gets old. This feeling, the way you look at me, God, it’s everything.” His hands bracket my hips, holding me tightly, there’s no predicting or him telling me what he’s going to do next. Instead, he slams inside of me with one hard movement until he’s so deep I can feel him hit that spot that has me clenching involuntarily.

“Eres tan bella,” Johnny’s speaks fluently in both English and spanish, a benefit from his parents and grandparents who made sure he’d become bilingual well into adulthood. Usually when we’re in bed, away from everyone, tucked away from the world, and he’s looking at me like I’m his whole world. He drops down until he’s cocooning us within his thick muscular frame, I feel cherished in the best way possible. I close my eyes, breathing through the sensations, the dragging of his length sliding in and out of me with deep thrusts.

I never stood a chance when I met Johnny Gonzales.

One chance meeting.

One heated look.

One night spent in his arms.

I never left and he never let me.

He became my one and only and I became his.

Johnny wraps his arms beneath my body, pulling me up, and turning us until he’s the one on his back and I’m planted on top.

“So full,” I moan, looking down at him.

“Work for it, Mi esposa , show me how desperately you want me.” He groans while calling me, my wife. I get to work, my hands go behind me, using the tops of his thighs for purchase, my knees slide upward, lifting me up and the slide downward helping got all the way to the root of my husband. It’s taken me years not to be self-cautious of the shape of my body. He sees nothing but beauty whereas I see a thicker stomach that doesn’t ever go away no matter how many ab crunches I do or how much I watch what I eat. When Johnny’s hands go to my breasts, cupping them lightly, feeling the heaviness in his palms, I know this is only the tip of the iceberg. My husband is a man that knows how to deliver pleasure with pain, I believe the term would be dominant except neither of us are into labels. We are what we are, we like what we like, and fuck what everyone else says.

“Mi esposo,” I follow up his term of endearment, my husband. It incites a fire inside of Johnny. One he brings to the surface without pause, there’s no denying our chemistry to one another, we both burn hot, and we burn fast. I’m trying my hardest to hold back. Patience isn’t a virtue and try as I might, it’s hard when your husband is the whole damn package and has the whole damn package. Johnny’s fingers wrap around my nipples, pulling at the tight tips, my eyes close on their own accord, hating myself for missing out on what he’s doing to me. Except I’m lost in a lustful haze, never wanting to leave. His cock drags in and out of me, helping me since I’m having a hard time keeping up.

“Look at you, naked and writhing, taking my cock so good.” I look down at him, the flaring of his nostrils, the clenching of his jaw, he’s having a hard time taking over. This man, his energy, his power, and the way he carries himself, he exudes dominance in spades. I’m half tempted to pull away, slither down the length of his body and take him in my mouth. He must realize where my wayward thoughts are going because I’m once again tossed flat on my back without losing him from being inside of me.

“Johnny,” I moan his name into the otherwise quiet penthouse apartment. His mouth attaches to mine, lips and tongue. He gets down to business, there’s no way to describe what he’s doing except working me up until I’m losing all control. I’ll never last with each snap of his hips, especially when he swivels as he meets my clit. I don’t what I want more to reach the high only my husband can give me or to hold out and keep experiencing each and every movement.

“Fuck,” he grunts while fucking me through my orgasm. My body feels like it’s been on pins and needles, waiting for this moment all freaking day. I may have had a taste of my husband this morning yet it’s not enough to hold me over another few hours. I close my eyes, dig my nails into his back, and let him finish all while holding the hell on. “Love how tight you are, all these years later and still, you take my cock like it’s the very first time.” How Johnny is managing to string two words together let alone a sentence is beyond me, except he is, and the last thing I should be is surprised.

“I never want it to change,” he nips at my lips with my response, body going taut and I feel every heavy spurt he plants inside me. A ripple runs through me, kind of like an aftershock. Johnny’s weight settles on me, wrapping me up in all that is him.

“Don’t even think about it,” he’s lying on top of me, our combined mess leaking onto the sheets of the bed.

“What?” I mumble with drowsiness. The tips of my fingers are busy gliding up and down his muscular back.

“You’re not answering that call.” My ankles are still locked at the base of his back, and I have no intention of thinking let alone moving.

“What call?” I ask.

“Your phone is ringing, you know as well as I do who’s on the other end of the line. No good is going to come of it.” He’s still wrapped around me, holding me as close to his body like he always does once we both get ours, except this time he might be doing it to keep me from running after my sister yet again.

“Johnny,” I glance at the alarm clock, the time glaring that it’s late. So damn late and I know who that is. “I have to, I can’t ignore her.” I plead as he pulls back, no longer touching me. I look at his face, at his eyes, and at the way he’s holding himself away from me.

“You can and you should, she’s done nothing for you. You’ve tried, we’ve tried, how many times do I need to see my wife brought to tears by a woman who isn’t ready to accept help.” Johnny is getting fired up, we’ve had these conversations so many times in the past he could recite them verbatim.

“I can’t, I just can’t. What if that were me and you were giving up on me?” I ask, trying to put it in a different perspective.

“Tired of this same old song and dance. We have this argument every single time she calls, texts, or corners you at your work looking for money, pretending she’s ready only for you to help her find a place to stay and then she ups and runs. Fuckin’ hate the wedge your sister has put between us.” He breathes out a sigh, sadly it isn’t one of relief.

“I know and I’m sorry.” I close my eyes, pain overwhelming my senses.

“Not doing this, you leave, don’t bother coming back. It’s always felony fucking Melanie asking for help, giving you broken promises, it’s me and my buds helping pick up the pieces. She doesn’t want help, she wants another fucking crutch, and that crutch is you.” Johnny gets out of bed, heads to the closet, where he’s in and out of in a rush, completely clothed, and leaving me speechless. He doesn’t look at me, he doesn’t speak to me, and he doesn’t say I love you as he walks out of our home.

“Johnny,” I say with tears obstructing my vision. He’s asking me to choose between the only family I’ve ever had and him. Why can’t I have both, is it too much to answer a phone? I’d never not ask him leave and go rescue my sister or for me to go somewhere without him being none the wiser. And yeah, I’ve probably leaned on him one time too many. Still, I can’t abandon my flesh and blood. I wrap the sheet around me, move to the nightstand, snatch my phone off the charge and see the numerous texts and phone calls left from my sister.

Mel: I need help.

Mel: I’m ready for a change.

Mel: I promise this time I’m ready to go to rehab.

I do the only thing I can do, I respond to my sister, and royally fuck up my life and my future.

Me: Send me your location, I’ll be right there.

After shooting back a text, I move into the bathroom, needing to clean up, possibly take a quick shower, and pack a bag. If Melanie is finally ready for help, there’s no telling how long this could take, and I have no idea what will happen when I return. Johnny Gonzales has locked me out, I’ve seen him do it before but never to his own wife. Once he gets to this point, there’s no changing his mind, there’s no him cooling off, and coming home for us to talk. I may as well be on another planet.