6. Ariella
Chapter 6
Ariella
I keep my mouth shut the entire ride to the hotel. Everything about the ride is causing a tingly sensation all over my body. My ass was still in shock from where he- spanked me? I didn’t imagine that, right? Just like I’m not imagining the pleasure pooling between my thighs while I’m pressed up against him. My arms are holding his torso tight.
This is not the outfit I would pick to ride a motorcycle. Ten out of ten do not recommend a pink mini dress and heels for this occasion. For one, my exposed vajay is pushed up against Nero’s muscular back. There’s constant friction between my thong and his leather vest.
The motion of the bike and the friction rubbing against my clit is embarrassingly pleasurable. I had touched myself before, but it felt nothing like this. My experience didn’t go much farther than the shower head, so I couldn’t help how my body was reacting.
Nero stiffens in front of me when he feels me push myself forward against him. Desperate for more. God, I want more .
He runs a hand over my bare leg, and I close my eyes. Heat explodes in my core, and I want so desperately to grind my pussy on him. I want him to touch me like this all over. I want to-
No. Wait. I’m mad at him.
Why was I thinking the most perverse things about a man who just embarrassed me in front of the only Dog groomer I can afford right now? I try to gain composure as I see the hotel coming into view.
Scooting back, I pray like hell he doesn’t have a clue about what I was doing behind him. My clit throbs, and I push the immoral thoughts out of my brain. I start to repeat the only thing I have memorized.
“I’m sexy, I’m cute. I’m popular, to boot. I’m bitchin, great hair, the boys all love to stare...” I say, reciting the opening cheer from Bring it On inside my head.
Por Favor.
I’ll do anything to get my clit to stop throbbing. Also, why could I never memorize anything significant like the Constitution or the Ten Commandments?
I let out a sigh of relief as Nero pulls into the back of the hotel parking garage. I’m off the bike as soon as the engine stops, removing the helmet but keeping the flannel tied at my waist. Moisture gathers in my panties.
I don’t look at him. I’m mad at him, but I’m also pretty sure he knows what I was doing behind him. Something about the way his eyes darken. I can’t face this man. Not when my hormones were acting up.
Instead, I keep walking down the hall to the back staff elevator, so I don’t have to look him in the eyes. His long legs catch up to me, grabbing my arm and turning me to face him. To stare into the dark void in his eyes. With his face this close to me, I can see all the small details of his face. Every small wrinkle, beauty mark, and freckle.
“We’re not done talking about this, “ he growls, his tone low and husky.
His lips are inches from mine. My heart races and my stomach hardens as he explores my eyes. His eyes drop briefly to my lips before releasing me.
Retreating to the corner, I wrap my arms around myself. Guapo begins barking, and Nero releases him from the sling. He runs right up to me, and I pick him up. He licks my cheek, and I let out a relieved sigh.
Nero presses the buttons and curses to himself. The ride up to the penthouse is silent. When we get to the penthouse, I head straight to my room. Rough hands grab my arm. Stopping, I keep my eyes forward, refusing to face him.
“You will not be going back there ever again.” He says behind me.
“Yes, Sir,” I grumble.
He releases my arm, the weight of his stare heavy on my back as I stomp to my room. Once Guapo and I are safe inside, I slam the door shut.
I stay shut in my room for the rest of the evening. Settling for a Quest bar for dinner. Guapo’s been good at using the litter box, so I don’t have to worry about him as I lay on my bed and go through my emails.
Last week, I convinced my Tio Enrique to let me teach an aerobics class at Calavera Hotels. I created a signup sheet and placed flyers in the staff breakroom, the hotel gym, and anywhere else I thought I could encourage people to sign up. I didn’t expect everyone to sign up for my newsletter, but I figured that with a QR code, I’d have more than two people sign up.
I resist the urge to hang my head over it. It’s better than nothing. The shower starts in the room adjacent to mine while I play around with a few designs on Canva to promote my aerobics class. I read up on some homework for my certification before pulling out my Certified Trainer Budget list.
Becoming a trainer wasn’t expensive, but it was also not in my budget, considering Axel convinced my parents to cut me off from my trust fund.
He said, “Let her learn to live off what she makes.”
By the way, that was not much, considering I was way too bougie for that budget. Food, Netflix, the internet, my hair, nails, makeup, and clothes were expensive. I have no money because I like to shop when I am stressed. And I am stressed because I have no money. It’s an endless cycle.
Not to mention, I’ve already lost several outfits from Nero’s freak bleaching accident the other day. My favorite dresses and skirts were amongst those who were lost beyond repair.
If I wanted to fulfill my dream of becoming a certified trainer, I would have to be more frugal.
My heart still breaks when I think about the day I told my parents I wanted to be a certified trainer.
“That’s not a real career.” My mother said.
“Mija, you should look into something more sustainable,” my father agreed.
“!Que ridiculo!” My Tia Ponciana had exclaimed after my mother told everyone about it like it was some kind of joke.
Everything I did or said was a joke to my family. I was desperate to prove myself to them, even if it meant swapping pictures of my feet to get Guapo’s haircut.
I keep replaying all the times my Tia Ponciana had pissed me off. She was Axel’s godmother, and it was fitting because they were both sociopaths. My Tio Enrique was also my godfather, and well, I can see the similarities between us.
He was the one to encouraged me to lead the workout class. By encourage me, I mean he said,
“ Haz lo que tu quieras. Just make sure you have the inventory reports done by Friday.”
To others, Enrique was too much to handle, maybe even a slight bit rude. He was like Gordon Ramsey in that asshole but efficient way. I liked that about him.
I’m still reviewing my personal budget list when I catch a glimpse of something fluttering toward the light of my iPad. I had been working in the dark, so Nero would assume I was sleeping and not ask me about the whole feet thing.
I jump off the bed when the little wings flutter back to my tablet. I throw the tablet onto my comforter and rush to turn on the light. Guapo starts barking aggressively. I take off my fluffy pink slipper and throw it at the disgusting beast. This only causes it to come closer. I close my eyes, but I tense when I feel something touch my face.
The second time I feel it touch me, I can’t help but let out a loud, shrilling scream. I’m still screaming for my life when the door flies open. When I open my eyes and see Nero standing there, I launch toward him—wrapping my arms around him and burying my face into his chest.
His very naked chest.
“What the fuck is going on?” he asks, removing himself from my embrace while looking around the room.
The winged beast flies at us again, and I jump onto Nero. He huffs out a breath. Unwrapping me from him again. He examines the room and then looks me over. I point at the intruder. Walking toward the bed, he catches it in his hand and turns toward me.
“It’s a fucking moth.” He growls.
I reach for my neck desperately to stop the red from creeping up on my face. It’s then that I realize how very naked Nero is standing in front of me. He’s wearing a towel.
That’s it.
A white towel wrapped around his waist.
The material folding into itself right below his hard abs and the very prominent v-line leading down to his- my eyes race to the side.
He releases the beast out my window and turns to face me. Standing there, I smile awkwardly, unsure what to do with my hands. What the hell do I do with my hands?
“You good now?” he asks, but I can’t focus on anything he says.
Fear has left the building, and some foreign emotion has taken its place. The height difference puts me at eye level with his chest, where I notice the thickened tissue tightened around the skin on his upper chest.
The pigment of the scar is lighter than the dark pigment of his skin. A gasp escapes me, and I reach out to touch the scar. My eyes shoot to his, and he grabs my hand before I can touch him.
We stand there in an uncomfortable silence. Our eyes locked on each other. I can’t read him. The words don’t come out despite desperately wanting to ask him what happened. There’s a challenge in his gaze. Like he’s waiting for me to ask, but then it’s over. He releases my hand and walks to the door. Shutting me out from whatever was hiding behind the void in his eyes.