Chapter 10
MARCO
As I storm out of the winery, I’m equal parts horny as fuck and conflicted about what I just said—and did—to Karina. But fuck it. She had her chance and she blew it.
When I pass a tray of champagne flutes, I grab two and toss them both back.
Aggravation and adrenaline mix with the alcohol, but it only serves to fuel my lust. Stalking the edges of the party, my gaze tracks over the crowd with laser focus.
Jessica’s a wildcat. She’s not the type to leave an event early. She’s got to be around here somewhere.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been this wound up inside.
But I know myself all too well, which is how I know that attempting to cool off without a physical outlet isn’t an option for me.
And there’s no better outlet than going balls deep, working out my frustration one jackhammer thrust at a time, until there’s nothing left but a soothing, glorious numbness.
Sex is like a drug for me, something I crave almost as much as the euphoria of racing.
I was born to fuck. It’s not something I’m going to give up. Not for Karina, not for anyone. Which is too bad for her, because I have every intention of getting laid tonight, and if my wife isn’t going to do it then I’ll find someone else.
And I know the perfect someone else.
Impatience has me on edge. Karina’s probably making her way back to the party by now, if she’s not looking for me already. Then again, I’m sure she’d likely just as soon spend the rest of the evening pretending that I don’t exist. Her loss.
Still, I know how to cover my ass. Spotting Frankie in a chair, I beeline to her and make up some excuse about having to duck away with an investor, adding that I’d appreciate her and Dante escorting Karina back to the house once the festivities are over.
Frankie, as usual, is happy to help me out.
She starts to gush about how much she likes Karina, but I can’t listen to it.
I mumble something about time being money, like the asshole I am, and dive back into the fray.
Weaving through the mingling partygoers once again, I catch a whiff of gardenia and follow the trail of familiar perfume.
It’s heady and sweet, the cloying floral scent Jessica wears when she’s on the prowl.
My old flame never was one to be alone for long.
She busies herself with whatever random rich men she can grab in between her trysts with us Bellantis.
And she is relentless in her pursuit of us.
I wonder if Armani has given in to her, too, or if he’s remained a hell of a lot smarter than Dante and me?
Armani might be a brick wall of detached stoicism, but when it comes to Jessica, you can never be too certain.
After my messy break with her last go-round, I should know better than to chase after her again. But there’s no harm in one more quickie, right? We’re both consenting adults. I’ve always been entirely straightforward with her about our relationship, or lack thereof.
She watches me approach now, the curve of her smile saying she knows I’m about to pull her away from the nobody she’s talking to.
Tossing her head back, Jessica subtly reaches a hand toward to me as I approach, all too eager to let me snag her wrist and yank her along behind me.
Her heels clip loudly on the paving stones as I make a quick detour and hustle her toward the Bellanti offices.
“I wondered when you were going to come to your senses,” Jessica purrs as I punch in the keycode. “Didn’t take long.”
“Shut up.”
The second the door opens, I shove her into the lobby and push her up against the wall, kicking the door shut behind us.
Cupping her face forcefully between my hands, I drag her up for a kiss.
She meets me willingly, her lips parted and ready as I crush my mouth to hers.
The tips of her sharp nails claw at the fabric of my shirt and rake burning lines down my spine.
My skin reacts with a hard shiver, and not the pleasurable kind.
This is all too familiar, this sense of being devoured, the hollow detachment and tinge of disgust at myself mingling with urgent animal lust. No matter.
I need to push all thoughts from my mind.
Kissing her harder, I race toward the adrenaline rush that impending sex always provides.
Her firm breasts push against my chest, her ass curving perfectly in my hands as I draw her against me.
It takes an extra second for my body to react to the feeling of her.
Jessica and I have had some fun, but I never took the time to get to know her that well.
I wouldn’t know the feel of her body from someone else’s in the dark.
Touching her was more a necessity for getting off than for learning what turned her on or exploring every inch of her.
Grinding against me, Jessica stabs her tongue along mine, moaning like it’s the best feeling she’s ever had. She’s always been great at putting on a show. Now, she huffs impatiently.
“What’s wrong, Marco? This isn’t like you.” She fondles me through my pants, raising a brow. “You want me to work for it, huh?”
She drops to her knees, snagging my zipper on the way and lowering it. Then she tosses her hair to one side, licking her lips while undoing my button. My cock twitches, but that’s it. I’m barely aroused. There’s no instant hard-on, no ache. Not like when I’m with…shit.
Come. On.
Grinding my jaw, I will myself to relax and close my eyes, anticipating her hot little mouth wrapping around my dick. Glancing down, I shake my head. The hair color is all wrong.
A blip of confusion strikes me. Jessica’s fingers slide down the front of my briefs and my pulse ticks up, but the anticipation—and any hint of a possible erection—is gone.
Moving back, I snag her hand and draw her to her feet.
Fuck this. I’m going to get what I need, dammit.
Jessica gasps as I pull her to the reception desk and sit her on it. She works the hem of her skirt up to her hips and lets her thighs drop apart, giving me a view of a strip of black satin, the tiniest scrap of fabric separating me from her cunt. That satin will rip easily with one hard pull—
Reaching for the waistband of her panties, I stop mid-motion as if someone has pulled me from behind. My fingers flex as I stare at Jessica’s body, my breath coming hard, almost frantic, but I can’t bring myself to touch her. Nothing could seem less appealing to me in this moment.
What the hell is wrong with me? I should be fucking her until the desk breaks and both of us are grunting and moaning like porn stars. Just like we used to.
But I can’t do it.
Jesus, I can’t do it. I step back quickly, surprised by my urgency to get away from her. There’s not a single thrum of desire in me. The only thing I can think about is…
Karina.
The memory of her scent wafts through me like a ghostly mist, heightening my need to get out of here. Jessica’s body feels all wrong. She smells wrong. She tastes wrong.
She’s nowhere near as sweet as my wife.
My. Wife.
Karina’s body is soft and curvy and feminine, her pert breasts the perfect size for my hands when I cup them.
Her skin is like silk, supple and smooth, laced with her intimate scent that I can’t get enough of.
And the way I can so easily read the sheer, helpless pleasure on her face when I’m working her body or pumping into her…
it drives me near madness. I never knew a woman’s inexperience could be such a turn-on.
I get to teach her everything. And all the while, I get to watch her enjoy the carnal knowledge I’m sharing.
Whereas Jessica is toned and tight and beautiful, confident in her sexual prowess…but that in no way compares to the gratification and bliss I find in Karina’s body.
“This isn’t going to happen,” I say flatly.
“Oh, come on.” Jessica pouts as she slides off the desk. “It happens to the best of us. Let me help you get in the mood. I can fix it, baby.”
I laugh. She thinks I’m having performance anxiety. She can’t even grasp the idea that I might actually not want to fuck her.
“I’m good,” I say. “Fix your clothes.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Raking a hand through my hair, I turn my back to her. It’s no wonder she doesn’t believe me. This has never happened to me before. Sex used to mean nothing but some fun and an orgasm. Except…I’m not sure that’s true anymore.
I feel her hand curl over my shoulder, but I shake her off and walk toward the door, putting my hand on the doorknob so she gets the message that it’s time to go.
“I’m leaving,” I tell her firmly.
“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’ve got the itch for that little spy you put a ring on.”
I whirl around to growl, “That’s enough.”
Anger fills the hollow inside me that doesn’t know what to think, or why this is happening to me.
“Really? You think you’re going to do the whole monogamous, two-point-five kids thing with her? What happened to the guy who could have a threesome and come back for more half an hour later? This isn’t you. You’re getting soft.” She pointedly looks at my crotch. “Real soft.”
My nostrils flare, my face going hot. But this isn’t completely on her.
I was the one who pulled her in here in the first place, intending to fuck us both senseless, and now I’m backing out.
Knowing Jessica, she’s less upset about the sex than she is about the chance she thought she had to get back into my inner circle, with the never-dying hope she’ll be the next Mrs. Bellanti.
“I’m going back to the party,” I announce.
“Oh, me, too,” she says with icy nonchalance. “I can’t wait to tell the girls all about this fun experience.”
“You do that, and I’ll be sure to let Dante know about the three grand you ‘borrowed’ from petty cash for your little trip to Vegas and then never put back. Go to the party, have a drink. Find an unsuspecting asshole to fuck tonight. It’s all good, Jess.”
Now her face turns red, her nostrils flaring as she contemplates me. In typical Jessica fashion, she tosses back her hair and plasters on a cold smile. “Have fun with your wife.”
She storms past me and out the door, slamming it behind her.
Frankly acting a lot like I did when I ran away from Karina not twenty minutes ago.
I slump onto one of the cushy reception chairs with a hard sigh.
So, this is what’s become of me? Impotent and confused? What’s next? Male pattern baldness?
Fuck.
Despite what I told Jessica, I’m not going back to the event.
I left Karina in the care of Dante and Frankie, with the full expectation that I’d be occupied for the rest of the evening.
I might not be screwing anyone now, but I have no intention of returning to my guests.
There’s only one other thing that could possibly make me feel better at this point. Driving. Fast.
Palming my keys inside my jacket pocket, I leave the office, set the lock, and head to the garages that house my favorite cars. I don’t bother turning on my headlights as I roll slowly down the driveway and then out onto the road.
A few turns later and I’m on the freeway.
It’s quiet this late at night, which is great for what I have in mind.
Shifting, I hit the gas and fly down the fast lane.
I might as well be on a straightaway without competition, as sparse as the traffic is.
So I go faster…eight, ninety, then even faster, until I’m blowing past everyone else on the road.
Traffic signs zip by in a blur, lights blending together in a bright smear.
Soon my mind goes blissfully blank, focusing on nothing but the asphalt under my tires, the euphoria of speed, the purr of the engine.
I’m in control out here, completely in my element, flying toward my destiny…
or else certain death. Who knows. My heart pounds, my skin prickling with goosebumps, my blood jacking with sweet adrenaline as the miles disappear in my rearview.
Jesus, I love this feeling. It’s like the first time I met Karina…
I’ll never forget that night. I was high on the rush of knowing I had a big race the next day, anticipation and excitement thrumming through me, and it all compounded when I laid eyes on her.
The feeling hasn’t gone away since. Not really.
It goes dormant, maybe, but it always comes back to life the second I see her again.
When I feel her, taste her. See her eyes light up.
My stomach drops as I’m suddenly hit with the unimaginable, batshit crazy, completely unlike me realization that the worst thing possible has happened:
I love my wife.
Pressing lightly on the brake, I grip the wheel tighter and incrementally slow the car.
It’s true…I love her.
It’s why I couldn’t fuck Jessica. It’s why I haven’t slept through the night since I moved into one of the guest rooms and gave up my bedroom to her. It’s why I’ll stand up to my own family to protect her. Why I’ll lie to keep her safe if I have to. I don’t want anyone else. Ever.
I have to get over this.
Loving Karina is a straight path to getting us both killed. We’re in the middle of a war with her family, and my fucking heart wants to play this game? Nothing good will come of letting my emotions lead the way. It can only lead to pain and loss and destruction.
This has to be temporary. It’s nothing but chemicals.
Hormones. Temporary insanity. It’s gotta be like the flu, right?
You feel the symptoms for a while. They might screw with your plans, make life a little harder, knock you on your ass.
But eventually, after it takes its course, it’s over.
You brush yourself off and get on with things as normal.
I just need to avoid her, then. Lock my heart down. Keep myself closed off and wait this nonsense out. Soon enough, everything will be fine.
She can’t ever know that I love her. I simply can’t allow it. There’s no guarantee either of us would survive it.