Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Alana
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Alana?” he bellows as he storms into the room. “You don’t just walk out on me in the middle of a fucking dinner.”
I bolt for the door, but he hoists me over his shoulder and carries me to the bedroom.
He throws me onto the bed and towers over me. “I asked you a question.”
“I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone,” I snap. “Keira and Michaela looked to be keeping you plenty entertained.”
“This is about your childish jealousy? You made me look like a complete fool because you couldn’t handle me talking to a couple of women? For fuck’s sake, Alana.”
“Oh, get over yourself, you conceited jackass.” I kneel on the bed and meet his furious glare with my own, refusing to let him make this my fault.
He steps closer, and I’m sure he’s going to reprimand me, but his scowl falters. “Why have you been crying?”
Dammit, I’m sure I wiped my smudged mascara, but my eyes always stay puffy after I’ve been crying. Still, I have no desire to discuss the reason why with him. “I haven’t.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Alana. I can see you’ve been crying. Now, for the love of god, tell me why.”
“I’m just tired. Can I please go home?”
He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on a chair. “This is our home for tonight. We’re staying at the hotel.”
I don’t want to stay here, in this place where he brings women like Keira and Michaela. “Can’t we just go to the house?”
He rolls up his shirt sleeves, and I wonder whether I am going to incur his epic wrath, but he only sits down next to me.
“No, we can’t. Tell me what the hell happened downstairs.
One minute you seemed like you were having a great time.
The mayor was waiting to ask you more about your work at the shelter.
He and Lorna are really interested in what you’re doing there.
He loves you, by the way. And then the next thing I know, I’m being told that you bolted and are on your way to the underground exit. ”
“Did you have someone spying on me?” I scoff.
“No. But this is my hotel, and you’re my goddamn wife. My security people watch you. It’s their job to know where you are at all times. Now what the fuck is going on? Is this about Michaela and Keira?”
I shake my head, but he’s already seen the truth in my eyes.
“I can’t help the fact that I have a past, Alana. But don’t hold that against me because you’ve never fucked anyone else.”
Wow. Just when I thought he might not be a complete asshole, he proves me wrong again.
“You think I’m bothered that you screwed them?
I don’t give a crap who you screwed, you conceited, arrogant, entitled asshole!
” I jump off the bed and storm toward the door, but he’s on his feet and blocking my way before I reach it.
“Then what is it?”
I stare into his incredible dark eyes and remember what those women said about me.
How I don’t belong with someone like him.
The way they made me feel so small and insignificant comes flooding straight back, and like an idiot, I start to cry.
Not a delicate, ladylike cry either, but full-force sobs that rack my body.
I’ve never felt so alone in my whole life.
“Alana.” He pulls me into his arms and strokes my hair. “Please tell me what’s wrong, princesa. I can’t stand to see you cry. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”
I shrug out of his grip and wipe away my tears. Someone like him could never understand feeling worthless. “No. I’m being silly. Please just let me go home and I’ll be fine.”
“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell has you so upset.”
What if I tell him and he simply berates me for being so sensitive? Or tells me I’m being ridiculous because I got so upset about what two women I barely know said about me? Or what if he confirms that everything they said is true? I’m not sure I would recover from the latter.
“Alana, please?”
I draw a shaky breath and give him a blow-by-blow account of what I overheard in the restroom, every word of it etched into my brain.
“Me cago en lá puta!” he snarls. “Bitches! Alana, I can’t …” He pinches the spot between his brows.
“They were right, though, weren’t they?”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“I’m not your type, am I? You could have married any woman you wanted.
You’re used to dating models and actresses, and I can’t compete with women like that, Alejandro.
I don’t want to either. I’m fed up of never feeling good enough.
Please just let me go home.” I don’t know exactly which home I’m referring to—New York or Bel Air.
“Alana.” He pulls me into his arms and crushes me to his chest. “You don’t have to compete with anyone. There is no competition, princesa. Not between you and them. None at all. You are my wife. You are the only woman I have ever married.”
“You make that sound like I’m someone special, but our marriage is nothing more than a business arrangement,” I remind him.
His warm breath ruffles my hair. “Maybe that was why I married you, but it’s not why …” He sucks in a breath. “Do you know I have never been faithful to another woman in my life? I never wanted to. Not until you. You …” His voice goes thick with emotion. “Eres todo para mí.”
I want to ask what that means, but he’s already pinning me to the wall. “Don’t you ever let anyone make you feel anything less than what you are, Alana. You are an incredible woman. You are beautiful and brilliant. You have the biggest heart—”
“And the biggest ass,” I interrupt him, still feeling fragile and vulnerable. Him being sweet and tender is not helping me get ahold of my emotions at all.
He slides his hands around to my ass and squeezes. “This is the most beautiful ass I have ever seen in my life. It’s the perfect size. It’s simply fucking perfect.”
I smile at him, blinking away a tear. “I always kind of liked it myself before today too.”
“Those bitches never made me come even half as hard as you do.”
I can’t help but laugh as I press my forehead against his chest.
“I hate that they made you feel so worthless, because you are worth one hundred of them. I dated those women because they were there. They could have been anyone. They meant nothing to me then, and they mean even less to me now. You are the only woman in my life, and you are the only woman I want in my life.”
I feel like he means it. This thing between us might have started as a business arrangement, but we have come to need each other too.
He cares about me. He no longer stays at the hotel anymore.
Every night, he comes home to me. He makes me feel desired and can do things to my body that I never dreamed possible. And that can be enough.
“Will you stay here with me?” he says against my neck.
I would stay anywhere with him. “Yes.”
He skims his hands up the outside of my thighs, pulling my dress up to my waist along the way. “I’ve been desperate to get you out of this dress ever since I saw you in it at the house.”
He hooks the fabric of my panties to one side before sliding two of his fingers through my wet center. “Did Hugo see these panties today?”
“Of course not.”
“That’s my good girl. I love how wet you get for me, princesa. Your cum is so fucking sweet.”
I gasp when he slips two fingers inside me, pleasure coiling low in my belly. With his free hand, he tugs the material down, and my boobs spill out.
“Joder, Alana.” He sucks one of my hard nipples into his mouth and bites gently while he goes on finger-fucking me.
I rake my fingers through his hair, grinding myself on his fingers.
“That’s it. Come for me.” He moves to my other nipple and lavishes it with the same delicious attention. He works me into a frenzy, euphoria lighting up my veins until I come with a rush of wet heat.
I’m still panting for breath when he pulls my dress off, every movement now filled with urgency. He tosses it into a pile in the corner like it’s a rag, and then his eyes burn with fire as he takes in my pink lace panties.
“Now, these are fucking adorable. It’s a shame I’m going to ruin them.” Before I can protest, he tears them off me.
“Hey! They cost forty dollars.”
“I’ll buy you some more.” Smiling against my skin, he lifts me and wraps my legs around his waist. “I’ll buy you a new pair for every single day of the rest of your life because I love tearing them off you.”
He lays me on the bed and tells me to roll over. As soon as he has access, he rubs his hands over my ass. I tense instinctively. I did run away from him—does that mean he’s going to punish me? While I do enjoy that, I’m still too fragile.
“Relax, Alana,” he says softly as though reading my mind. “My bed is only for pleasure, remember? But sometimes a spanking can be about pleasure too.” He gently swats my ass cheek.
He doesn’t spank me hard, just firmly enough for it to send a jolt of electricity through me. Then his hand is soothing my skin. “You see?” He spanks me again.
“Yes,” I groan as his fingers slide between my thighs and dip into my opening.
“You want more, princesa?”
“Yes.”
He smacks my ass again with one hand while he finger-fucks me with the other.
“You like having your ass spanked, don’t you? I can feel you creaming all over my fingers.”
“Alex!” I groan, writhing beneath him.
He slides his fingers out, and I hear the unmistakable sound of him undoing his belt buckle and zipper. “Fuck, Alana. I need inside you right now.” He’s on his knees, pulling me toward him until my knees are on the floor too and he has me bent over the low bed.
He pushes his cock deep inside me and lets out a loud groan. “I just can’t keep out of this pussy. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
I can barely form a coherent word, but I figure it’s a rhetorical question and concentrate instead on the exquisite feeling of being full of him as he takes exactly what he wants while giving me exactly what I need.