17. Alina
17
ALINA
R eady to submit?
No. What I am is ready to combust.
When Tomas took his shirt off, my mouth fell open. Underneath those suits of his, underneath the neatly knotted ties and the crisp cotton shirts, my new partner is cut. His body is sleek, muscled perfection. His deltoids are defined; his biceps are a thing of beauty. As for his sculpted abs… I want to lick each and every ridge. I want to tongue his navel and follow the trail down to his waistband, rip off his trousers, pull his cock out of his pants, and take it into my mouth. I want him to hold my head and thrust deep, making me gag.
There’s an invitation in his eyes, and I’ve been staring at him for too long to pretend.
The pulse on my neck races, and my breath comes in small gasps. Tomas is everywhere. He smells like sweat and soap, and his aroma is catnip to me. A shiver goes through my body as he pins me down, his intimidatingly large cock pressing into my hip, his lips a whisper away from mine. My breasts are crushed against his hard chest, my nipples erect.
This might have started out as a fight, a way to work off some of the mortification I felt when I learned the truth about his underground MMA chops, but it’s not a fight any longer.
This is a sweaty, no-holds-barred prelude to sex.
My insides ache , a sensation that feels like both pleasure and pain. “What are we doing?” I manage through dry lips. I swipe my tongue through my lower lip, and his gaze locks onto it. “I don’t even like you.”
A smile ghosts across his face. “I know.” He bends his head and licks the fluttering pulse at my neck. “Does it matter?”
Oh God. A shock of need jolts through me. That was… A shiver of arousal runs through me as he licks me again, slowly, leisurely, as if I’m a feast laid out for his pleasure. His tongue feels like fire, and I’m burning up. Heat pools in my core, and I squirm underneath his body, restless for more. I want him to hold me down and fuck me with that massive cock so hard that it hurts. When I touch myself in the shower tonight, I want to ache.
In vain, I reach for some common sense. “It should.” Tomas is my partner. We have a tenuous working relationship. Sleeping with him would complicate everything.
But I’m not thinking with my brain. I’m in the grip of something raw and primal. Call it lust; call it chemistry. This is animal attraction hard-coded into my DNA, and I can no more resist Tomas than I can walk past a piece of dark chocolate.
I’m playing with matches. And I’m going to get burned.
“It should,” I say again. Perhaps if I keep repeating it, I can convince myself to tap out of this dangerously tempting situation. “But it doesn’t seem to.” I press my thighs together, my skin prickling with anticipation. His eyes aren’t cool any longer. They blaze with the same fire that’s incinerating me. “I’m going to regret the hell out of this tomorrow, but my bedroom is upstairs.” I wrap my leg around him, pulling him even closer, and rock my hips against him. “Want to get out of here?”
He stares at me for an eternity. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I know— I’m absolutely sure —he’s going to kiss me.
Then he exhales in a long breath and shakes his head. “When you invite me to your bedroom, Alina, you’re not going to regret it. But until that happens—” He rolls off my body and jumps to his feet in one fluid movement. “I’ll work on your files remotely for the next week.”
He vaults over the ring, grabs his shirt and jacket, and puts on his shoes. I watch in silence as he leaves, his hands clenched.
What the hell just happened here?
I can’t fall asleep. I lie awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, Tomas’s words running through my head.
When you invite me to your bedroom, you’re not going to regret it.
What did he mean by that? Was it a boast? Was he being cocky? Judging by the girth of his cock, he’s more than capable of backing it up. Certainly, he was able to back up his trash talk in the ring. The fight was more than a little embarrassing. Tomas defended against my attacks with laughable ease. And it’s not because he’s in a different weight class—I’ve fought men his size and won, using my greater speed to my advantage. No, it’s because he’s good. Really, really good. I’ve never been beaten quite that comprehensively before.
I should hate it.
I don’t.
Or did he mean that he wanted me to sleep with him without regrets? If so, he’s going to have to wait a long time. No matter how much I want Tomas to fuck me, the underlying reality hasn’t changed. He is still my business partner, and this is still a terrible idea. It will always be a terrible idea.
My body is on fire. The adrenaline of the fight hasn’t worn off. I can still feel the weight of his body on mine. His thick cock grinding into me. I’ve already had one cold shower, and it’s done nothing to calm me down. I need to take the edge off, and quickly, otherwise I’m never going to fall asleep. Lidya has arranged for me to fight tomorrow night, and if I’m hoping to win, I need all the rest I can get.
I roll over, grab my vibrator from my nightstand, and turn it on. I hitch up my T-shirt and tug the gusset of my panties aside. Some days, I like to press the head against my clit, light at first and then harder as I get more aroused, but tonight, that’s not what I’m looking for.
Tonight, I need a hard cock inside my aching pussy.
I close my eyes and push the thick cock into me. I barely wait for my muscles to adjust to its girth before pulling it out and slamming it in again. My eyes flutter shut, and the moment I do, Tomas is there.
I imagine him knocking on my door. I don’t answer right away; I’m far too busy masturbating to deal with interruptions. He knocks again, insistently, and when I fail to materialize, he kicks the door in with a loud crash.
Then, he takes in the scene in front of him. Me. Naked, my legs spread wide, holding a penis-shaped vibrator in my hand.
He leans against my doorway. His shirt is unbuttoned, and his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “Is that toy satisfying you?” he asks. His tone is polite, almost disinterested, but his gray eyes bore into me like bullets. “Or do you want the real thing?”
He steps into the room. Gets naked. All of his glorious muscles come into view, but I don’t have eyes for them. My gaze locks on his cock, and he is huge.
I fantasize about him tying my wrists to the headboard so I can’t move, and I shudder my way to my first orgasm. I picture him fisting his cock, raising one eyebrow, and asking me if I’m sure I can handle his length, and I come a second time.
I imagine him yanking the dildo out of my sopping wet cunt. “You’re going to scream when I fuck you,” he says calmly. “And we can’t have you waking up the entire neighborhood, can we?” Then he pushes the dildo into my mouth and thrusts into me in one hard, brutal stroke.
And I scream and shiver my way into a third orgasm.
But though my cunt is puffy and swollen, and my clit is too sensitive to touch, I don’t feel sated. Tonight, my trusty vibrator cannot give me the release I need. Tonight, only the real thing will do.
It’s not the worst thing in the world if I sleep with him.
Is it?
Enough. I toss the vibrator aside and give myself a stern talking-to. Of course it’s a terrible idea to sleep with Tomas. I want to buy him out, and I’m assuming he wants to get the gym back on its feet as quickly as possible so he can sell his stake to the highest bidder and move on.
He doesn’t care about me; he just doesn’t want me to burn out because if I do, that’ll interfere with his ability to make a profit on his purchase. Bringing me a smoothie maker, getting Marcelo to finish the job, arranging for a cleaning crew in the middle of the night—these are things a partner should do. If I’m impressed, it’s only because Simon set the bar so low.
It’s a good thing Tomas is going to work remotely for a while. Some time away from him is exactly what I need to get my head screwed on straight.
Sergio isn’t the first member to arrive at the gym on Saturday morning; Luke Barnes beats him to it. Luke is Canadian, a big, strong guy in his forties. He’s not chatty and almost never volunteers information about himself. But I like him a lot. There’s something about his presence—he just exudes zen. It’s calming to be around him.
“Good morning, Ali,” he says, holding out a plain unmarked envelope. “Someone left this for you.”
“That sounds very mysterious.”
He laughs. “It’s probably another petition to limit tourists on the island. Hey, can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure.” I set the envelope on the counter and turn to Luke. “What is it?”
“I’d like to work here,” he says. “Are you looking for instructors?”
Tomas pretty much ordered me to bring on a couple of instructors. I want to turn Luke down just to spite my bossy partner, but I need help. Rather desperately. I haven’t taken a vacation in the last two years. I can’t remember when I had two days off in a row.
“Have you ever taught before?”
He has. He lists his qualifications, and they are impressive. When he’s done, I just stare at him, my mouth open. “You’ve been a member of the gym practically since we opened. Why have you never said anything?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want to work here when Simon was involved,” he says matter-of-factly. “It was all I could do to keep from punching him in the face. But now that he’s gone…” His voice trails off. “I don’t know if you’re looking…?”
“I am. Definitely.” I smile at him, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “Let’s talk salary. Also, how soon can you start?”
The gym is busier than usual, and it isn’t until almost noon that I remember the envelope Luke handed me. I sit down at the front desk with a smoothie and tear it open. If it’s a petition to ban Airbnb rentals, then I’m all for it. The building to the right of me has five apartments in it that are always listed on the platform. It’s also one of the few places that allows pets. Which isn’t bad in itself—I like animals. But pet owners who don’t clean up after their animals are the worst, and all of them seem to rent from Ricardo.
But when I unfold the piece of paper, a photo falls out. I pick it up and freeze. It’s of a young couple, both dressed in ripped jeans and plaid shirts. The man, I don’t recognize.
But the woman?
It’s my mother.
With shaking fingers, I pick up the paper and read the letter.
My dearest Alina,
I’ve started writing this letter a hundred times, but I never know what to say, how to introduce myself, and how to tell you that I’m your father.
My name is Vidone Laurenti. Twenty-eight years ago, I met your mother, Teresa, on the beach in San Vito Lo Capo, and I fell in love.
Your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me. We were together for two years, two of the happiest years of my life. But then, one day, she disappeared.
I searched everywhere for Teresa. I went to the police; I tried to find her family—nothing worked. I raged and mourned, and eventually, I made my peace with her disappearance. I had no other choice.
A week ago, I did an online DNA test. Imagine my shock when it said I had a match.
You. The daughter I never knew I had.
I don’t know why Teresa hid you from me. Chances are, I will never know. I have spent the last week wrestling with the knowledge of your existence, and I find myself angry—furious— that I never got a chance to watch you grow up. To be your father in more than blood.
This letter will probably come as a shock, and I don’t want to pressure you for a relationship. But I’d love to meet you. Show you the beach where your mother and I met, take you to the apartment where we lived together. I’d love to get to know my daughter.
I’ve included my address and phone number. I’ll be waiting for your call.
Your loving father,
Vidone
I stare at the letter in shock. Picking up the photo and studying it, my heart races. It’s a photo of my parents. They look so young. My dad has dark hair and a bump on his nose. Just like me. I can’t make out the color of his eyes, but he’s smiling into the camera, and there’s a dimple in his chin. Just like mine.
Sudden tears fill my eyes.
All my life, I’ve wanted to know my father.
And now he’s only a phone call away.