Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
D ahlia
I wake still snuggled in the circle of Antonio’s arms. I'm warm and sated. Sore but in a good way.
When I move, Antonio’s arms tighten around me, and he kisses the back of my head.
I didn’t mean to have sex with him.
Oh, who am I kidding? I wanted it. I have wanted it ever since the night of my debutante ball. Every time I imagined sex, it was with him.
And it was so much better than I ever imagined. So satisfying. So addictive.
I definitely want more.
But the part I never even contemplated was this.
Being held. Stroked. Murmured to between soft kisses.
Antonio’s affection terrifies me. It feels so good. Exactly what I’ve needed my whole life. And now that I’ve known this kind of attention, I never want to lose it.
Last night when I went to the bathroom, I was able to slip a message to the restaurant host. I promised him my father would reward him handsomely if he called the number and told him I was there.
Whether that will actually happen or not, I can’t be sure, but the thought of it now turns my stomach to knots.
Maybe he won’t call. He probably threw the paper out, rolling his eyes about the stupid American.
I hope.
This morning the idea of my father showing up to rescue me makes me queasy. Especially because I know that would mean him doing something terrible to Antonio.
It feels foolhardy to believe that the act of sex somehow changed us, but it has. Or maybe it wasn't the sex. Maybe the sex was the result of the thing that changed between us. Antonio made me feel special and loved last night. The way he watched me as I sang filled me. Filled up a crack and crevice in my tattered soul. Every single time I was rejected for being myself growing up. Every time I was not allowed to have my own feelings, control my own life, have my own desires. All of those fissures and caverns and crevices were filled simply with Antonio's admiring gaze.
That he accepted me for what I am and nurtured the rejected parts of me–the wild, rebellious side, the artist who yearned to perform–somehow changed me. I feel more whole today than I've felt maybe ever. Like the splintered, shattered parts of me have been glued back together.
And then there was the sex. I loved it. Not just how it felt in my body, but watching what happened to Antonio when he found his release. I loved seeing him out of control, desperate and needy. And then feeling his immense gratitude afterward.
So yes, everything has changed between us. We are not the same two people who stepped off The Honeymoon yesterday.
I could be pregnant with Antonio's child already. That thought, more than any other, slices a streak of terror through me.
How will this all end? If my father is coming for me and Antonio is the father of my child—where does that leave me? I'm Antonio's wife now. If I have his child, I should stay with him.
I can't deny the hint of satisfaction that idea brings me. That circumstances might force me to stay with Antonio and raise a child together. Would he be a good father? Better than mine? I saw something last night that tells me that he would be. An indulgence of me. A nurturing. And the way he let me take charge for my first time in bed. He didn't force himself on me. He didn't even ask if I was okay. He just made sure that I was. He knew exactly what to do to ensure it worked for me. And I love him for that.
Oh God, did I just think the word love ? I can't love Antonio! He's my captor. My father's enemy.
But what if we're really a mad version of Romeo and Juliet ? Two lovers from feuding families destined to be together.
Antonio nibbles on my neck.
I didn’t brush my teeth last night, and my mouth is filled with cotton. I shove the covers away from my legs and try to swing them off the bed. Antonio catches me and drags me back into the bed.
“Where do you think you're going?” He pins me down, hovering over me to give me a kiss.
I turn my face away. “I have bad breath!”
“I don’t care.”
He clearly doesn’t because he kisses me fully, his tongue delving between my lips, showing me that our mouths are one. Our breath, shared. When he pulls back, he reaches for a glass of water beside the bed, lifts my head from the mattress and puts it to my lips.
“How are you this morning?”
I drink down the entire glass of water and he chuckles. “A little hungover? I’d hoped I kept you up long enough last night for it to wear off.”
My body heats at the reminder of how he kept me up. “You did. I mean, I’m good. Totally fine. I just need to brush my teeth.”
“Okay, I guess that's allowed.” His smile reveals dimples I haven’t seen enough of. He releases me. “But come right back to bed.”
I climb out, surprised at how unembarrassed I am by my full nudity. I sense Antonio admiring my body, and it heats me from the inside out. He wants me to come back to bed. What does he have in mind? I’m not sure I can face him naked again in the light of day without alcohol.
Except that’s not true. As I use the toilet and brush my teeth, my heart hammers with anticipation. I can’t wait to climb back in that bed and feel his hands on my skin again. It’s like my body knows where it belongs, and it’s next to his.
I emerge from the bathroom to find him propped up in the bed, looking like a Roman god. He opens the covers and holds his arms out to me. “Come here.”
When I comply, he pulls me up against him and strokes his hand down my side. “Are you sore, Principessa ?” His fingers trail between my thighs–a light touch that doesn’t quite reach the apex.
“A little,” I say.
He finds the evidence of his dried essence on my inner thighs and rumbles his approval. “You didn’t wash me off.”
I flush. Was I supposed to? These are the things I know nothing about.
“I like it. Never wash me off,” he commands. “It’s a new rule.”
“I don’t follow your rules.” I say it lightly–there’s no venom behind the words. I just want him to know I’m going to keep pushing back. I may have let him consummate the marriage, but that doesn’t mean he’s in charge of me or that I’ve conceded to this marriage.
The corners of his lips lift. “That’s because you enjoy the consequences of your disobedience. He rolls me to my back and climbs over me, backing up until his head is in line with my pelvis.
My core squeezes in anticipation.
“Open your thighs, Dahlia. This time it will be a reward.”
You don’t have to tell me twice. I let my knees fall open and Antonio lowers his head between my legs.
My belly shivers in an inhale. Antonio drags his tongue along my slit, parting me.
“Oh, God .” It feels so good.
Even better than it did the last time. It’s like the more Antonio touches me, the more he pleasures me, the more receptive my body becomes. I’m primed for him now, ready to climax at the slightest provocation.
And provoke, he does.
Antonio swirls his tongue around my clit, traces everywhere. He sucks and teases, uses his teeth on the little nubbin of my clit.
I gasp, my pelvis jacking up off the mattress at the delicious sensation.
“You like that, bella ?”
“Uhn.” I let out an unintelligible syllable, somewhere between a groan and a cry. It feels so good. I want it all. Everything he did to me last night and more.
He palms my ass, lifts my pelvis to angle me more toward his mouth. His entire mouth covers my sex as he laps and penetrates me with his clever tongue.
I wrap my fingers in his hair and tug, growing desperate.
“You need to come, baby?” He slides a finger inside me.
I squirm down on his finger. My entrance is tender, but I don’t care. The sensation is incredible. Needed. I’m wet and slick, and his finger feels too small.
“I want…”
“What do you want, Principessa ?”
“I want you.”
Antonio’s grin is wicked. “Say it. Say, I need your cock, Antonio .”
“I need your cock, Antonio.”
That’s all it takes. In a flash, my husband is above me, lining his member up with my entrance. The satisfaction when he pushes in cannot be named. Cannot be described.
It’s just that sense of rightness. Of our bodies belonging together.
I reach for his shoulders, hanging on as he slowly arcs in and out, watching my face the entire time.
Remembering how marvelous it was to watch him come undone last night, I moan my approval. Try to get him to stop tracking me and lose himself.
Antonio cages my throat, using his grip to hold me in place as he pushes in with more force.
It hurts but in a good way. A satisfying way. Definitely an I-want-more way.
I grow louder, not for Antonio’s benefit now, but because I’m in the throes, myself. It feels so good to have him moving inside me, to match my pleasure to his.
Antonio’s breath grows ragged, his face grows slack above me. “Dahlia,” he growls.
That’s all it takes for me. Just the sound of my name in his deep voice makes me come. I seize up around him, hooking my ankles behind his back to draw him in.
“Wait… fuck ,” he pants, still plowing into me. “Now. ” He shoves in and stays, filling me with his hot seed.
My body understands his command because the orgasm that rolls through me is like nothing I’ve experienced before. My internal muscles contract and release around him, my inner thighs squeeze tight around his hips. I bite his neck, suck his earlobe, gasp and cry out and whimper as our bodies find completion together.
“Oh, baby.” Antonio pants into my neck. He lifts his head and cages my jaw in that dominant way of his. “You were incredible. So good, baby. Are you all right?”
I nod in his grip.
“Was I too rough? I know you’re still getting used to me.”
“I liked it.”
His smile makes butterflies swirl in my belly. “Of course you did.” He says it with such pride that I crack open, and something that’s been locked up and caged forever rolls free. He lowers his head and kisses me hard, and I receive him, glorying in this new bond we’ve forged–whatever it may be.
But I don’t get a chance to explore it further because at that moment, the door explodes inward and two men dressed in camo and carrying machine guns barge into the room.