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I won’t deny myself.
I gently push her shoulders forward and grasp her hips, lifting them until my cock is notched at her entrance. She tries to squirm onto the fat head, but I don’t let her take control.
“You take what I give you,” I whisper into the thick air while I slide balls-deep into her.
Daniela groans, and a grunt escapes from my chest. She moans, wiggling into me. Her pussy is hot and tight.
I’m not going to last.I’ve wanted this too much, for too long.
I reach around her, using one hand to steady us both, and stroke her clit, pressing into the swollen flesh while she whimpers my name. I don’t let up until I feel her body tighten, and then I pinch the bud until she bucks, caught between my hand and my cock.
She begs and pleads—and calls God’s name and mine as the orgasm rips through her.
I sink my teeth into her neck and own her pussy until I’m empty.
When I can move again, I lean over and drop a small kiss on her shoulder—on the spot where my teeth marked her. She’s limp as a rag doll, her body folded over the cask.
“Hold on tight, Daniela. Don’t let go of the barrel.”
I throw on my pants and pull my shirt over her head so that she’s not naked when we leave here.
She hasn’t moved a muscle.
“Are you okay?” I ask gently.
She nods.“Mm-hmm.”
Running a soothing hand over her back, I call the villa. Cristiano answers immediately. “Shut down all surveillance between here and my apartment.Everything.Give me fifteen minutes, and then turn it all back on.”
She begins to lilt to one side. I tuck the phone into the crook of my neck and lift her off the barrel.
“Everything okay?” Cristiano asks.
I look down at the sleepy woman in my arms. “Yeah,” I say softly.
A part of me actually believes that everything just might be okay.
56
Daniela
The sound of Antonio’s stern voice wakes me.
“Daniela D’Sousa is in my bed. And if you like your job here, my mother will not hear a word about it unless it’s from my mouth.”
Where am I?My eyes scan the dark room for something familiar, but there’s nothing. The sheets are crumpled beside me.I didn’t sleep alone.
“Maria Rosa’s daughter?” a woman asks, as if it can’t possibly be true.
“Alma, don’t test me. I am not playing.”
Alma. Oh God. She knows I’m here, in Antonio’s bed.I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to remember everything that happened last night—trying to rememberanythingthat happened.
A sliver of light shines on the ceiling as the door creaks. Antonio turns on a lamp in the corner and shuts the door.
Although the room isn’t bright, I blink several times, adjusting to the light.
“Good morning,” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. His features are relaxed, his expression almost gentle. Something I’ve rarely seen in him.
