27. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Vicente Godoy
W e’re heading back to London tomorrow, and I don’t think I’m ready for it. All the glam and appeal the city once held for me, lacks in luster compared to the time I’ve had in Colombia with my family.
Fuck. My family.
The way Ava and Camila fill the void in my heart is something I can’t explain, but I’ll be thankful for the rest of my days.
Camila and I have been making love every single night. Some days, I wake up to find her sucking my dick; other days, I wake her up feasting on her pussy. I can’t get enough of her.
I’ve even toyed with the idea of getting her pregnant. I know it’s very caveman of me to think that way, but the thought of adding a baby to our family is something that brings more joy than it should.
After all, we’ve only been married for a week and never really dated. I should take my time romancing my wife and make her fall in love with me, before even mentioning the idea of expanding our family.
After a cold shower and a quick breakfast, Camila and I leave our room to meet Gustavo for a tour of the last farm.
“Are you ready?” he asks as Camila comes to stand next to me.
Ava and Mrs. Evans are staying at the house since Ava needs to rest. She’s been quite active running, swimming, and playing. Although she’s as happy as can be, we don’t want her to have an episode that requires a doctor’s visit.
“We’re ready,” Camila answers, placing her hand in mine.
I kiss her ring and help her get into the vehicle.
The drive is short, and before I know it, we arrive at the cocoa farm. At the edge of the cultivar, the family who owns the property waits to greet us.
Gustavo steps forward and introduces us to the owners with his usual charm. After a brief exchange, we walk toward the neat rows of cocoa trees. The air is thick with the smell of soil and ripe fruit.
A few farm hands are busy harvesting, their movements practiced but graceful. They graciously take their time to show us how they determine when the cocoa fruit is ready to be collected. One of the workers carefully slices open a pod, revealing the shiny bean.
Gustavo reaches in and scoops out a handful. Without hesitation, he pops a few into his mouth and eats them.
My face scrunches. “Can you eat the beans without processing them?” I ask.
Everyone laughs, and I am even more confused.
“The gel that coats the beans is sweet, and it’s safe to eat,” Gustavo says.
I move to scoop out a few to taste, but Camila stops me.
“If you eat too much, it can loosen your stomach,” she warns.
Understanding dawns on me, and Camila smiles.
“Thanks, wife. That’s the last thing we need on our last day here,” I chuckle.
We’re going out dancing tonight, and I can’t wait to unwrap Camila from her little black dress.
“Try it, just a tiny bit,” Camila encourages me as she eats some.
I relent, and the sweetness invades my taste buds. It’s unfamiliar—different from sugar cane or honey—but pleasant in its own way.
It's the gel-like texture I can’t get past—it almost feels like eating runny Play-Dough.
“You’re right, it is sweet,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. I don't want to sound too judgey or ungrateful for the opportunity. We continue the walk, and the owners begin a discussion about how many kilos of dry beans they can export to Hacienda Carmen each year.
I start crunching the numbers in my head. Between the wine production and this new chocolate endeavor, I’d be stretched too thin. I don’t want to go back to my workaholic ways. This week has been bliss, just focusing on this project and enjoying time with my family. Then at night, losing myself in my wife—that’s the kind of life I want.
“Listen, all this sounds amazing. A couple hundred kilos of cocoa beans would be a great starting point for us to test the waters with our investment group. But honestly, I don’t think I can oversee the vineyard and this project.”
The farmers’ faces immediately fall, as does Gustavo’s. I hate to disappoint people, especially since we came all the way to Colombia to talk business. But there are two people in my life now that I can’t—and won’t—disappoint.
“Well,” Camila says, breaking the tension.
Everyone's attention immediately moves to her, even though her eyes are trained on me.
I nod at her, encouraging her to continue.
“Maybe this is a project I can oversee,” she asserts.
I raise my eyebrow as a smirk appears on my lips.
“I have a good rapport with Gustavo, and I have a business degree I could put to use. This project is something I’m passionate about—adding something of value to the Godoy Group.”
My heart soars with pride as I see my wife transform into my partner. Not only is she the perfect woman in every sense imaginable, she’s also the perfect business partner.
I wonder if she’s been thinking about taking charge of the project all along, or if it’s something that just came to her after seeing the farms and meeting the people who will be working on it.
Either way, I can’t think of a better person to lead this initiative and make it a success. Camila did an amazing job with the early research for this project, and I know she’s going to be amazing.
Instead of answering, I simply kiss her. It takes her a couple of beats to catch up, but the moment she’s out of her initial shock, she jumps and wraps her legs around mine.
The catcalls and whistles don’t take long to start in the background, but I couldn’t care less.
My wife is fucking perfect.
“Very well, then. I guess we can start drawing up a contract,” Gustavo says, and Camila claps, animatedly.
“To be completely honest, Vicente, I’m glad your wife is the one I’ll be dealing with.”
This stops me in my tracks.
I give Gustavo a murderous look, and he immediately lifts his hands.
“No, no. I don’t mean it in a bad way.” He chuckles nervously. “It’s just…I feel Camila...”
“Mrs. Godoy,” I correct him.
“Mrs. Godoy,” he says as he swallows and continues, “has true passion and definitely more time to devote to this project. As you said, your time will be consumed by the vineyard and you’re already hard to reach as it is,” Gustavo explains.
Camila squeezes my hand, and when I look at her, the heated look in her gaze makes me calm down a little bit.
“I’m yours, Vicente. He didn’t mean anything by what he said,” she whispers in my ear.
I release a deep breath and nod a couple of times, letting her words sink in.
She’s mine. She wants to be part of my world. She’s going to be in charge of this project, and I have nothing to worry about.
We head back to the car in silence, enjoying what’s probably our last walk in this area before we head to London tomorrow.
“Are you ready, wife?” I ask Camila through the bathroom door.
It’s been almost an hour since we put Ava to bed, and Camila has been getting ready ever since. I’ve never been a patient man, and now that I can’t get enough of her, I’m even less so.
“Ready,” she says as she opens the door.
The air leaves my lungs. My wife looks delectable in a tiny black dress, just as I had envisioned.
“Camila,” I whisper, holding her hand and pulling her flush against me. “Fuck, wife. You look exquisite,” I say, placing a kiss on her shoulder blade.
The spaghetti straps are pearls instead of fabric, and the neckline is a deep V, which gives me a peek of her perfect tits.
The dress hugs her waist before flowing into an elegant skirt, and her black strappy heels added the perfect touch.
She’s perfect.
She kisses my jaw, then bites me gently, and my dick jerks in reaction.
“Are you sure you want to wear a suit?” she asks, her gaze curious.
I look at her, confused.
“Vicente, we’re going dancing in a town of two hundred people. Unless you want to look out of place, I’d suggest you wear jeans.”
I roll my eyes, but I know she’s right. I rarely dress down these days. I guess if we’re moving to a small town, I have to start wearing casual clothes more often. I don’t want all eyes on us—on her. And she’s looking gorgeous enough to draw enough attention already.
I quickly lose my suit jacket and change my pants for a pair of jeans.
Once I’m ready, I ask my wife for approval. “Better?”
She gives me a once over, and when our eyes meet, hers are shining like two embers ready to be fired up again.
I smirk at her, silently praying that she doesn’t want to stay out for too long—because I can’t wait to bury myself deep inside her.
The moment we walk inside the bar, I immediately relax. The atmosphere is laid-back. A few couples are dancing around the small space with low lighting. Empty tables are sprinkled about, and a few patrons are sitting and chatting at the main bar. It’s definitely low-key and nothing like the boisterous place I was expecting.
“What do you want to drink, wife?” I ask Camila as we walk toward the bar.
“Let’s see if they have any fruity cocktails,” she answers.
I smile at my girl. I doubt they do, but it won’t hurt to ask. “Do you have any sweet cocktails?”
He gives me a knowing smile as he looks Camila up and down.
“Hey,” I growl. “Eyes off my wife.”
He has the decency to look away. “We don’t have anything sweet, but I can make a Margarita and rim the glass with sugar instead of salt,” he says, and Camila nods, excitedly.
“Good, give me a shot of tequila as well,” I add.
He gets busy preparing our drinks. Though his back is to us, I stare him down to make sure he doesn’t try to sneak more looks at my wife.
Camila moves in front of me, and my hands immediately wrap around her waist.
“Do you really have to be such a grumpy caveman all the time?” she teases.
I raise an eyebrow, confused.
“He was just looking at me. He didn’t proposition me, and he wasn’t disrespectful,” she explains, nodding at the bartender.
“But you’re mine, and if anyone dares to even look at you and think they can remotely flirt, they’re sorely mistaken.” I practically growl against her lips.
I’ve never been a possessive man, but the way I want to protect Camila from anything or anyone surely makes me look like a crazy arsehole.
“They can look all they want, husband. I’m yours and only yours,” Camila says against my lips.
I bite her plump bottom lip, and she hisses in pain. I nibble the spot to soften the sting.
“Besides, I only get this wet for you, Vicente,” my wife dares to whisper against my lips.
Fuck.
She knows exactly what to say.
I push back to take her in—her eyes are hooded, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and the smile on her face is sexy as fuck. Camila looks downright edible when she’s this turned on for me.
I press my leg between her thighs, and she starts swaying to the rhythm of the music. My hands go to her arse, and Camila moans against my ear. I don’t think we’re going to last long in this bar.
The bartender clears his throat, breaking the moment.
“Do you want to open a tab?” he asks.
Instead of answering, I slap a wad of cash on the bar. “Keep them coming.”
I grab Camila’s hand and lead us to a dark, secluded table in the corner of the bar.
We spend the night kissing, dancing, and losing ourselves in each other. The bartender does an excellent job keeping our drinks fresh and bringing us water to stay hydrated.
I also got my first taste of something Camila calls picada . It’s a platter full of fried food: small potatoes, plantains, two or three different types of sausages, and pork skin. It’s the perfect appetizer to eat with our drinks, but nothing as tempting as the woman in my arms.
I lean in, my voice low and full of promise. “I can’t wait to peel this dress off and make you come with my tongue, then with my cock, wife.”
“Let’s go,” Camila says, grabbing my hand, and we make a beeline for the exit.
Thank fuck.
The moment the driver spots us, he rushes to open the door. I help Camila inside, and we’re on our way back to the farm.
After checking on Ava and finding her fast asleep, I grab Camila and throw her over my shoulder. She giggles all the way to our room, but the moment I close the door, all giggles are gone.
I make quick work of removing the little black dress from Camila’s tempting body. Leaving her only in her thong. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
She’s just as much in a hurry to get me naked, because before I know it, my belt is flying across the room, and my jeans and briefs fall down my legs.
Jesus Christ, we’re like two teenagers in heat.
Camila stops undressing me, and I frown, confused as to why she’s stopping.
“What do you think about using the jacuzzi?” she asks, biting her lip.
There’s a jacuzzi in our room, and we haven’t had a chance to use it all week.
“Love the idea. Come here.” I command as I start filling it up.
She comes, like the good girl she is, and once I sit down, she straddles me.
We kiss as we get used to the hot water. When Camila stops shivering, I lift her up and place her core on my face.
“Vicente, what are you doing?” she whisper-shouts as I rip her thong off.
“What does it look like? I’m about to feast on my favorite meal.”
I nibble and lick at her clit. I love making her wild, and the way she’s moving her hips, I can tell she’s getting closer to reaching an orgasm.
I circle the rim of her arse with my thumb, and Camila jumps at my touch.
“Shh, it’s okay, wife. I’m just going to prime you tonight. We can leave penetration for another day.”
My words seem to calm her down as she relaxes over my face again. I continue my assault on her clit and keep my thumb pressed against her arsehole.
Camila’s moans keep increasing in volume, and while I don’t want her to wake up Ava, a part of me wants anyone within earshot to know I can make my wife cry out in pleasure.
I insert the thumb in her hole, and that’s all it takes for her to come undone. I suck at her clit over and over until I feel her go limp.
“Are you okay, wife?” I ask as I help her straddle me again.
“Okay? I’m blissed out, mi cielo .”
The moment my brain registers what she called me, a lump forms in my throat.
I’ve never been the type to cry—far from it. But hearing my wife, the love of my life, calling me mi cielo —her sky—sends me to a whole new kind of high.
“Is that who I am?” I ask, my voice breaking.
Camila’s brows form a straight line. When she realizes what I’m talking about, she kisses me.
“Yes, Vicente. You’re mi cielo, mi dicha, mi tesoro . I know this started as an arrangement. But the way you show up for me and Ava every day…” Her voice breaks too.
I kiss her, letting her know I’m listening.
“It’s hard not to fall in love with you,” she says, a stray tear running down her cheek.
Although, my immediate reaction is to worry, the smile on her face lets me know it’s a happy tear.
“I love you too, Camila Godoy. I never knew love like this, but you and Ava have shown me that love is possible for me. I can be a better man because of you. You’re my entire universe.”
We kiss, unhurriedly, letting our emotions flow as I ease myself into one of my favorite places in the world: inside the woman of my dreams—my wife.