Taina
I’LL HANDLE THE REST
You’re safe here.
That sentence alone feels unsafe . Like if I let my guard down, that’s when I’ll find out that I’m actually in more danger here than anywhere else.
And I know I’m not safe anywhere, let alone in this house. But I prefer being out here in the middle of nowhere for the time being.
We had dinner that his friend he calls Papo brought over. I’d hoped to see Paloma again, but eating her delicious tamales was a filling alternative.
Emiliano asked again what living arrangements I’d prefer, and while I don’t love the idea of living with him, the man has kept me alive for this long.
Clearly I should stick with the one person who appears to have my best interest at heart, offering me a place to stay after my parents tossed me out.
After backing up my cloud, I chucked my phone into the trash and he helped me set up the new one.
I have a ton of apps to download, including one in particular that’s chock-full of information that’ll either keep me alive, or incriminate those responsible for my death.
Emiliano has no idea who is living under his roof. Watching him be so kind, expecting nothing in return…it’s unsettling.
But more than that, it’s sexy as hell.
This man is currently down the hall in another room, content to share a house with me, just to keep me from sleeping on a park bench.
He bought me a new phone, knowing that I’ll likely be kicked off my parents’ plan.
He ordered a fucking car for me to drive, offered to get me a room at one of the fanciest hotels downtown, and bought me a few clothes to last for the next couple of days.
When he said I was safe here, he didn’t just mean safe. He meant I’ll be comfortable and cared for.
The room I’m sleeping in looks like it’s been stripped bare, except for the bed and a nightstand. When I peeked inside the closet, it was empty too.
How does this man own a home he never stays in?
I’d walked through the place before he arrived, poking my head in rooms and searching empty cabinets. No food, nothing to drink. But the Wi-Fi works! As does the water. I just enjoyed a nice long shower.
The only door that I’d been unable to open looks like it could lead to the basement. Which is fine. I don’t want to go down there anyway.
But now I’m upstairs, with my braided hair still wet from my shower, attempting to fall asleep in this forgotten room.
He told me he’d be right down the hall. But I’m sure he didn’t share that with me so I could tiptoe into his room and try to understand him.
Why am I here? What’s made him want me?
And why am I allowing this to happen, knowing everything I have on the line.
Even with all of this trying to bludgeon my curiosity, my feet hit the floor and I’m opening the bedroom door to poke my head out. Why? Who the fuck else is here?
I pull it the rest of the way and step out, noticing he kept some of the lights on downstairs. He told me the security code in case I wanted to leave and he wasn’t awake to disarm it. Before I could tell him that I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere without money, he handed me a fucking credit card .
I left it on the kitchen table and went upstairs to take a shower, unable to take it or even acknowledge the action.
It’s like I’ve just realized how truly starved I am for any sense of security. And somehow, Emiliano anticipated so many of my needs while handling them as casually as anything else he’s done. Like it’s nothing.
But it’s everything.
His door is cracked open, and maybe he did tell me where he’ll be so I can join him.
I push the door open and walk inside, my eyes finding him in the dim lighting coming from the television.
At least he has one of those in his room.
I stand between the TV and his bed, studying the plains and valleys of his face.
There’s a peace to him when he’s like this that makes him seem younger than he is.
His massive chest rises and falls, and I become fixated on the sight of a man whose body looks lived in. A gold chain rests on his chest, and his hand is tucked into his pajama pants.
Emiliano has muscles, yes. But they look more brawny than decorative. Like he works out to be strong rather than appearing strong.
There’s a light dusting of hair at the very center of his chest, and some perverse part of me wants to touch the coily strands.
“I can feel you staring at me,” he grunts out, causing me to yelp and step back. His eyes are still closed, but he smiles. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to tell you I’m awake before you try to kill me.”
“You’re right to be afraid,” I muse, placing my hand on one of the bedposts. Before I can think better of it, I climb onto the bed that sits higher than the one in the other room.
Emiliano turns to face me, those pretty eyes barely open as he regards me through his lashes.
“Are you okay?” He murmurs his question like he’s not surprised to see me. Like I belong in bed next to him.
“Can we try something?” I ask, sitting on my feet and bouncing a little. Anything to help get rid of this nervous energy. I’m teetering over a line between us that I intend on not only crossing but eliminating completely.
“What did you have in mind?”
Say it.
“Would oral be too much?”
“On me or on you?” He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and I try not to notice how his muscles bunch at the movement.
He seems like a gentle giant, but right now, I want him to devour me.
“I was thinking…on me?” My lame attempt at casual has one side of his mouth lifting as he braces himself on one arm.
“I was about to say,” he starts as he straightens until we’re face to face, and I ask for clarification. “You’re going to come first, every single time.”
My stomach bottoms out as he threads his fingers through mine to bring me closer to him.
“Kiss me,” I instruct, needing to dip my toe in the water before I dive in. Or before he dives in.
He places his index finger under my chin until my eyes meet his. I don’t blink as he searches my gaze, as if he’s trying to find the answer to a question neither of us will ask.
But whatever he finds is enough, because he presses a soft kiss to my lips. When he pulls away quickly, I try to ignore my clumsiness, instead giving into the way he leads.
“Lay back,” he whispers, close enough that his exhale dances over my skin, causing goose bumps .
With my eyes locked on his, I do as I’m told. The back of my head meets his pillow, and it feels like he’s everywhere. His natural scent lingers in the sheets and mixes with his shampoo’s clean fragrance, and it smells like comfort.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of the pajama bottoms he bought me, pulling them away from my body with ease. I lift my hips, and once they’re off, I’m completely exposed.
“Damn,” he murmurs. “If I’d known you didn’t have panties on, I would’ve savored that moment a little more.”
“That’s not what I’m asking you to savor,” I remind him, watching him as he stares at my pussy.
I can’t deny the feeling of fear that claws at my throat, trying to force me to stop and walk out of the room. But I’ve done a lot for fear. I’ve killed, I’ve lied, I’ve manipulated.
In this moment of what may seem like bravery, I’m going to lie back and enjoy it all.
He sinks down, gripping my hips before yanking me closer, causing my heart to stutter. I can’t see his eyes, my own looking up at the ceiling now, but I know exactly what he’s looking at.
My heart is beating faster, but I take a deep breath. He places one of my legs over his shoulder and presses a kiss to my inner thigh.
“Once I taste you, you’re mine,” he nearly growls, like he’s transformed into someone else completely.
“After I let you, I might entertain the idea,” I challenge, my breath being stolen from me as swipes his tongue flat against my sex.
“What was that?” he asks, and I take a shuddering breath as he licks again before fluttering against my clit. I can only manage a moan as he sucks on me, humming as if in approval.
“Don’t worry,” he says after pulling back with a bit of suction. Another lick has me shaking. “I’ll get you talking again, Princesa .”
The shot of heat to my core has me widening my legs to let him in. Both of my legs now rest on his broad shoulders, and I sit up slightly, eager to watch him at work.
He tongue-fucks me, and I toss my head back, yelping when he licks my clit again.
“I…”
“Mm mm,” he murmurs, using his tongue to sweep over my sensitive nub over and over.
“Shit, I’m coming,” I huff out, falling back onto the bed as he punishes me with more of his ministration. He inserts one of his fingers, rubbing a sensitive spot inside me, and another orgasm rolls through me.
This time, my fingers find his curls and I buck into him, unable to stop.
He licks once more before pressing a kiss there, and my hand releases his silky strands. When I glance down at him, he’s on his knees, his erection visible through his pajama pants.
I haven’t seen one in—I shake my head. I don’t want to go there, I can’t go there.
I don’t realize I’ve squeezed my eyes shut until I feel his hands on my face. When I open them, he’s sitting in front of me, telling me it’s okay.
“Breathe. You’re safe.” He strokes my face, and it brings me back to life under his assessing gaze. “You never have to worry again.”
“I’m sor?—”
“Don’t,” he bites out, one of his hands moving down to my shoulder, which he squeezes. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t even have to share. You just exist, and I’ll handle the rest.”