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My body tightens. As the wave starts rolling, he drags his wet fingers from my pussy. His hands fold around my neck, squeezing just enough to cut my airflow. I need to fight, but I’m too weak. I don’t have enough energy left. I can only lie there with electric shivers running through my clit, and Gabriel’s cock ramming into my ass while white spots start to dance in my vision, and my pulse hammers in my ears. The minute he gives me back the gift of oxygen, of life, I come with a force that shatters my body and mind. Thousands of volts of pleasure course through me, pulling every muscle, finger, and toe so tight my body is one, great spasm. I must’ve fallen over that edge, because I’m drifting like a feather, and everything around me turns into a comfortable darkness where the brutal pleasure mercifully stops.
* * *
Gabriel
Fuck. Shit. It’s the first time I fucked a woman unconscious. I turn Valentina’s limp body on her back and slap her cheeks.
“Wake up, baby.”
She doesn’t move. Not even her eyelashes flutter. The euphoria of my climax evaporates. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the shower. I can barely squeeze inside with her draped over me. I adjust the water to a lukewarm setting and, tipping her head back, let it run over her face and hair.
She frowns and stirs.
“That’s my girl. Come on, Valentina.”
She gasps and coughs. Her eyelids lift to reveal tiger-eye gemstones staring at me. “Gabriel.”
Relief washes over me, and the tightness in my chest expands marginally. “I’m here, beautiful.”
I hold her to me, letting her find her feet without releasing my grip on her waist. Allowing her to pass out wasn’t part of my plan. I’m furious with myself. She deserves better than a sadist who pushes her to the limits of pleasure, all the way into fucking fainting. The only way I know to make it right is to give her comfort. Like she took care of me the night I was stabbed, I take care of her, washing her hair and her body from the top of her head to the tip of her toes as best as I can in the confined space. I’m careful with the tender part between her legs and especially her ass. After drying and dressing her, I put her to bed. It tears me up, but I have to go to my own. I’m too exhausted to risk staying with her. If I fall asleep, I may not wake up before Carly. I don’t want to leave her like this, but I must. For how much longer can I keep up the pretense?
* * *
After my morning workout with Quincy and Rhett, I meet Sonny and Lance, two of my franchise owners, about a dispute over territory. Lance has been casting his nets in Sonny’s reservoir, and as much as I hate playing ombudsman, I prefer to step in before we have a war on our hands. It’s a glorious day, and we’re having our discussion by the pool. My leg has been bothering me more than usual after last night’s sexual marathon, and the exercise in the water does me good. I swim a few laps before stretching out on a deckchair in the sun, listening to the squabble between the grown men. When it gets close to one o’clock, I interrupt their bickering.
“No eyes on the housekeeper.”
Sonny and Lance exchange a glance, but comprehension dawns on their faces when Valentina exits from the kitchen, a tray loaded with food in her hands, and walks our way. Sonny looks up at the sky while Lance fixes his gaze on his toes.
Her figure is slender in the dark dress. With tendrils that escaped her ponytail, she looks feminine and vulnerable. I want her next to me, in my arms, not at a distance acceptable for a servant, not with a barrier between us that lets me enjoy the sunshine while she’s standing there in her black garb, sweating in the sun.
There’s not a stitch of resentment in the brilliant smile she gives me. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Lemonade.” I turn to Sonny and Lance, who are looking anywhere but at Valentina. “Beer?”
“Please,” they say in unison.
“Anything else?”
I’m suddenly bothered that she has to serve men not worthy of kissing her feet. “No.”
Her smile is genuine and pure, a ray of beautiful that doesn’t fit in the filth of my world. “Just shout if you need me.”
As she walks back to the kitchen, I can’t help but stare after the frail set of her narrow shoulders with an emotion that, this time, isn’t foreign to me.
Longing.
I’m consumed by longing.
* * *
Valentina
Nothing is worse than the helplessness I felt at the hands of men who bullied and assaulted me. Tiny lifted the tightly sealed lid on those emotions. What Diogo tried to do made me relive those feelings. Those forbidden sentiments, the ones I banished to the depths of my mind, make me shaky with shame and anger. I hate not being able to defend myself. Then there’s Gabriel. The things I feel when I’m with him are too complicated to examine, and I’m too scared of what I’ll find. What I need is not to analyze what’s happening between me and my keeper––I can’t change it, anyway––but to learn to protect myself from people stronger than me. Maybe I could get a weapon and learn how to use it.
