Page 11

Chapter Eleven

Ellie

I refuse to ever cry over or in front of a man ever again. I nearly did downstairs, but I caught myself. I will not give up control of my emotions, and I will not give up control of my relationships. I’m doing my best to meet Enrique halfway, but he wants all of it. I’m a fucking coward, and I know it. But I’m too fucking gun shy—ridiculous choice of words—to trust him completely.

I’m ready to kick him out then run after him.

I’m so fucking damaged. What’s worse is it’s self-inflicted. I could’ve walked away from my marriage years ago, but I didn’t. A small part of it was spiritual. Marriage is a sacrament and a covenant I didn’t want to break. But almost all of it was a fear that life would be worse for my boys. I traveled, but it wasn’t all the time. I was home far more than I was gone.

But each time I left, I worried about whether the boys would bathe since Tim refused to help them, even when they were young enough I feared them slipping. I worried they’d never have dinner, since I’d come home from my regular job at eight-thirty some nights, and he hadn’t made them dinner. I worried he’d ignore them because he was more interested in his sports video games and the people he played with online.

I worried that if I left him, he’d remarry. Then some other woman would mother my children. That last bit was entirely self-centered, but I still feared it would be worse rather than better if he brought another woman into their lives. What if she had her own children and mistreated or neglected mine?

I worried all the fucking time.

I don’t want to worry about whether Enrique’s feelings will dwindle. I don’t want to worry about whether he’ll show a different side of him when the newness of this wears off. I don’t want to worry that it’ll leave me in another emotional vacuum.

“Ellie, you want the benefits of being a couple without a label.”

“I want the benefits of being alone right now. Go.”

“No.”

I stare at him, only blinking. He said it so matter of fact.

“Fine. Stay.”

I walk to the door, and I know he watches me. I leave my bedroom and go down the hall to one of the guest rooms. I walk in, close the door, and lock it. I’m naked and afraid. I’m not even going to win any money from this like on that survival show. I grab the blanket off the foot of the bed and wrap it around me as Enrique jiggles the knob.

“You really locked yourself in?” He sounds aggravated now.

“No. I locked you out.”

Did he just chuckle, then clear his throat?

“You’re being stubborn, but I can be patient. I can wait you out, Ellie. If nothing else, the room isn’t an en suite.”

I’ll have to come out to pee. Fuck that. I’ll hang my ass out the window and water my plants first. Yes. Yes, I am that stubborn. I did it once in college. I was visiting my high school boyfriend at the beginning of freshman year, and he was pledging a frat. I wasn’t supposed to be in his room overnight. He went to see who was around and left me in the room alone. I had to pee so badly I couldn’t wait. I looked around the room, then out the window. I opened it, pushed my ass out, held onto the walls, and peed. That was thirty odd years ago, but if I did it once, I can do it again.

I hear what must be him sliding down to the floor and leaning against the door. I smirk as I pull down the covers and climb into bed. I grab the remote off the bedside table and turn on the TV. Now I’m certain he laughed.

Let him.

I get through three half-hour episodes of a sitcom I’ve seen all the way through at least four times. I wouldn’t let myself look at the door, but I know he’s still there. I know if for no other reason than the alarm hasn’t gone off, which it would if he left without disarming it.

“Ellie, come on.” He knocks twice.

I have nothing to say that won’t be hurtful or won’t dig myself in deeper. I just stare at the door. I hear something against the knob, then the door opens. I should have fucking known. He has what I do. A lock picking set. How much shit can he hide in his pockets? I didn’t hear him get up to go to my room where his clothes are. Though he might have grabbed them before following me down here.

He steps into the room, but he doesn’t close the door. Instead, he steps beside the wall. We watch each other.

“ Chiquita , I’m sorry.”

I push back the covers and nearly fall out of bed in my rush to get to him. Fucking hell. So much for my resolve.

“Please slow down, Enrique. Please don’t leave because I don’t know yet whether I can get to what you want. Give me time to try.”

I’m in his arms again, and I take my first deep breath since our argument started. He’s still naked, and I let the blanket fall to the floor. Our bare skin touching is so fucking intimate, even though I’ve stood in this position with other men. I feel him harden as we kiss. He lifts me, and his cum that’s still inside me makes it easy for him to slide in. He walks to the bed and climbs on with no effort. He moves to lean against the headboard. We just sit together, joined and peaceful. As I lean against him, he strokes my ass.

He’s taking care of me, and I know it.

“I’m sorry too, Enrique. Please hold me.”

“For as long as you want, carino .”

Sweetheart. He’s called me that before. He has four nicknames for me, and I have none. I won’t use any Italian ones because that opens me to more questions I don’t want to answer. I think about a French one. Doudou . It sounds horrible in English, but it means cuddly toy. I think the irony would be funny. But I love these hugs we share. I enjoy cuddling with him.

Mon minet . Mee-nay. Sounds far better in English.

“Thank you, mon minet .”

He hesitates for a breath, then laughs so hard his body shakes. It rumbles through his chest, and his abs rub against me as they contract and relax. I suspected he spoke French.

“Your pussycat?”

“I like to make you purr.” I grin and waggle my nose.

“There’s only one kitty purring in this house.” He grinds me against him.

“You remind me more of a lion or tiger.” I run my hand through his dark hair. “Jaguar. But you’re sweet with me, too. I don’t think you’re like this with many people. It’s special to me, so I want a name for you like you have for me.”

“I don’t think I’ve had a sweet side since my nephews were preschoolers. You’re my haven, Ellie. I can let my guard down around you in a way I can’t even do around my family. My mind will always have a low hum because my responsibilities are always there. But you let my mind quiet. You let me breathe easier and enjoy the moment. You let me be who I’d be if I weren’t jefe de jefes .”

“Boss of bosses. You’re truly one of the most powerful men in the world, and I just called you pussycat.”

“You said you didn’t google me.”

“And I haven’t.” Because I don’t need to.

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“No. But I know what jefe means. I’ve watched TV. De is ‘of’ in Spanish and French. Easy to figure out the meaning or the significance. I may not have known your title, but I suspected your power.”

“And you still accept me?”

“You wouldn’t be buried inside me if I didn’t.” I need to tell him the truth.

“Is that part of your hesitation?”

“No. Enri— mon minet —I’m certain my guesses only scratch the surface.”

Even with what I know about this life, I’m not lying.

“I know some of it, but I’ll never know all of it. You explained that, and I accepted it. I know that’s one side of you, but it’s not the one I’ve ever seen. I can differentiate between the two and reconcile they both exist within you. You don’t flash your wealth and power. I wouldn’t be interested if you did. I’ve been around the excesses of obscene wealth, and nothing about you makes me think that’s you. Maybe I’m wrong because I haven’t seen how you live. But that’s not the impression you’ve given me.”

“Are you worried that if we were a couple, I’d expect you to be seen with me?”

Yes. “No.”

He doesn’t believe me.

“Enrique, you’re the hottest man I’ve ever met. That alone is enough to make me want to drag you down the street to show off. ‘Look at what I have, bitches. He’s mine.’”

“Get dressed. We can head into Manhattan right now if you’ll claim me like that.”

“I know law enforcement could see me as guilty by association. I don’t fear for myself if we were together. I fear them using me to get to you.”

“I fear them insisting you know things I will never tell you. I fear what they’d do to you.”

I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining this when the truth eventually comes out and likely rips us apart.

“My middle son, Steve, is an Assistant U.S. Attorney. He can’t make everything disappear, but I’m certain he could deter some colleagues from coming after his mommy.”

“Are you afraid of what your boys will think about us?”

They’re going to lose their ever-loving shit when they discover which Enrique I’m fucking.

“It won’t please them.”

“Would they try to stop you from being with me?”

“Yes, but last I checked, I’m the parent. Not the other way around.”

He gives my lips a peck. “Part of me fears you, and part of me wants to get in trouble just to see how you’d punish me.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“I cannot see you letting me spank you.”

“Haha. Maybe not that. But I’m certain you’d get creative.”

“I could edge you.”

“That’s not punishment. That’s torture. I’m certain there’s a line about that in the Geneva Convention.”

A narco-king and a mercenary jest that kinky edging is a crime against humanity. That’s the opening line of the shittiest joke ever.

“ Mon minet , can we agree to slow down? Don’t push me, and I’ll be more open-minded about what you want.”

“That’s fair. You know what I want, but I’ll take you on whatever terms you can give me. I want you too much not to.”

“I’m suddenly so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open. Will you stay and sleep next to me?”

“I wasn’t going to leave until you told me to again.”

I wince. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me.”

He swings his legs off the bed and stands. “Come, chiquita . Let me tuck you in.”

“Good morning, mon minet .”

I stretch and roll over as I feel Enrique brush his cock between my ass cheeks. We made it to my bed—barely—before fucking again. The movement of me on his dick as he walked down the hall got us all hot and bothered. It’s ten a.m., which is ridiculously late for me to be in bed. But I didn’t get to sleep until nearly four. Then we woke up twice to have sex again. Now we’re ready for another round.

He rolls me onto him, and I guide him into me. We’ve had bursts of passion where we’re clawing at each other. But we’ve also done it like we are now. We’re slow, savoring each movement. As I gaze into Enrique’s eyes, I know he’s won me over. I don’t want to admit defeat, but I also don’t want to fight my chance to be happy.

I need to put my big girl panties on and cowgirl up.

It would be self-sabotage to run from my feelings and what he wants to offer. I’d cling to the misery I’ve lived with rather than let it go.

We move together, and I feel my orgasm creeping up. I ride him with one hand pressed on his chest and one on my hip. My tits bounce, and he appears fascinated. I graze my nails over his pec before pressing against it again as I come.

“I’m yours.”

He freezes for a moment before flipping us. He pulls my legs up, hooking his forearms under them. He watches me as he thrusts. He understands what I mean, but he’s claiming me to be sure I understand what I’ve agreed to.

“Mine!”

He roars as he comes. When he’s done, he lowers my legs. I wrap them and my arms around him. He brings his chest to me, and I smatter kisses across his face.

“Why the change of heart, chiquita ?”

“I’m not sure. I just woke up knowing I don’t want to hold on to my anger and bitterness like a badge of courage. I don’t want to be a coward. I don’t want to go through life missing something because I didn’t have the tits—since I don’t have huevos —to accept it.”

“You have the most magnificent tits.”

I don’t agree. I’ve nursed three kids. I’ve fluctuated in weight. I’ve wanted a reduction, but the insurance refused. I wanted all three boys to start grad school without debt already looming over them. That was more important to me than perky tits. So, I’ll take Enrique’s compliment because it isn’t one I’d ever give myself.

“Thank you.”

I’m quick to respond. I don’t want him to think I wasn’t a gracious receiver and wind up with another spanking for not thinking well of myself. From his quirked brow, I know he was thinking the same thing.

“Do you have to get Constantine?”

I didn’t expect that.

“No. Hunt will hang onto him until I fetch him. Constantine adores all three of them since they helped train him. But Hunt’s the animal whisperer.”

“Do you have to go anywhere?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Someone knocks on my door, and Enrique grins. I watch him roll out of bed and grab his jeans. I push back the covers and try to get out of bed, but one look and a shake of his head makes me stop.

“Wait here. If you’re naughty and peek, I won’t be pleased.”

“Peek at what?”

“You’ll see.”

He disappears down the hallway. I hear men’s voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. The door closes, and I listen to Enrique on the stairs. He’s carrying three medium-sized boxes that are all open. He comes to my new side of the bed—the one away from the door—and puts the boxes on the floor. He pushes back the flaps of the top one, and my eyes widen so much they hurt.

“Did they see what’s inside?”

I don’t know if he spoke to a delivery driver or one of his men, but I’m mortified and horrified as he lifts out three vibrators of varying sizes. Beneath those is a box of Ben Wa balls and another package with butt plugs in it.

“Of course not. Andrés was nearby, but he couldn’t see what’s inside.”

“You checked them before you brought them in the house. Do you expect a bomb or niacin?”

“I don’t expect it, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I know it’s an invasion of your privacy, but from now on, someone opens your packages before they come in the house.”

This again .

I merely nod.

“Ellie?”

“I understand. I want us more than I’m worried about your men seeing the toothpaste I order.”

Is Fredrick’s of Hollywood even still a thing? I guess I’ll be going to a store to get lingerie rather than ordering it online.

“If there are things you really don’t want opened, you can ship them to my house. Everything gets x-rayed, so no one has to open them unless they’re suspicious.”

“You didn’t order this stuff to your house.”

“Because I ordered it while I waited outside the guest room and had it overnighted. I’m here to receive it.”

“You were that certain I’d give in?”

“I was that optimistic. Otherwise, I would’ve been hiding in the bushes to grab the packages before they wound up on your porch. Then I would’ve tucked tail, gone home to mope, and returned it all.”

He flashes me a grin before lifting out three riding crops of varying lengths. He moves the first box aside and empties the second and third ones. By the time he’s done, there are floggers, crops, handcuffs, vibrators, butt plugs, Ben Wa balls, gags, blindfolds, lube, sanitizer, and a few other things laid out on my bed. The pièce de résistance is the swing. It needs drilling into the ceiling, so he promised we’d do it at his house if I agreed. I told him I was ready to get a drill and stud finder.

“Before we play, let’s get you fed. I’m starving, and you must be too. You’ll need the sustenance to keep your strength up.”

He takes my hand and tugs me off the bed. I wrap my hand around his jeans covered cock and squeeze.

“There’s something I’ll keep up.”

He playfully gobbles at my neck, and it tickles. I never imagined this side of him. Not from the rumors I’ve heard over the years. Not from how serious I’ve sensed he is. I love it.

I grab a t-shirt and shorts and lead the way downstairs. I’m tempted to go naked. If I’m going to do this, I may as well be all in. But I don’t want to splatter anything on myself if we make bacon or sausage. We move around my kitchen together with ease. I point to where things are as I mix the ingredients for a quiche. He cuts up fruit and makes toast before setting the table.

Once the quiche’s in the oven, he pulls me into his arms. I rest my hands on his biceps and smile. I slide them up his shoulders and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I refuse to question this now, mon minet . I want to be happy with you. I want to make you happy.”

“You do.”

He pushes down my shorts and lifts me until my tailbone’s on the kitchen island. I’ve always hated it and planned to take it out. It takes up too much space, but now I think I’ll appreciate it. I kick the shorts free, and he pulls my hips until I’m nearly off the edge. His hands disappear under my shirt as he lowers himself to bring his mouth to my cunt. The things this man can do with his tongue.

“Fuck, Enrique.”

“I’m too hungry to wait, little one. I want my peaches and cream now.”

I put my hands behind me to keep my balance, but a moment later, my right hand pulls up my shirt and tucks it under my chin. I want to see everything.

“God. I’d forgotten how good this is.”

I wince. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Damnit. Enrique pulls back and looks up at me.

“I don’t compare everything you do to Tim, but I can’t help it. This is all so new, and that’s all I had for so long. It’s all so much better that it amazes me. I promise I won’t do it forever.”

“I’ve understood since the beginning. But what do you mean you’d forgotten? You haven’t been divorced that long.”

My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Another reminder of my past. One I am firmly shoving behind me as of now.

“He stopped doing this a few years after we got married. He spent more time expecting me to blow him than he did pleasuring me. I knew he wouldn’t do it, so I stopped expecting it. I’d do what I had to until we were having sex. I never pushed the issue because I didn’t want to feel like he was doing me a favor or that I was a chore before he got what he wanted.”

I feel so fucking middle-aged. I don’t think all marriages wind up like mine did. But I can’t be completely on my own, can I?

I press the back of Enrique’s head to my pussy. I don’t want to talk anymore. When he sucks on my clit, I brace myself again with both hands. Holy hell, this is divine. My body reacts in ways it had forgotten or never knew it could. I ache for him. Between his lips and fingers, he arouses me to the point of an aching need.

“May I come, sir?”

“Mhmm.”

He doesn’t lift his head. He drives me wild, and I have to lean back on my elbows. I feel the sensations build from my pussy into my lower belly. Then it’s there. I sit up to grasp the edge of the counter, fearing I’ll slide off as my body goes entirely lax.

“Mmm. Just the snack I needed.”

He hands me my shorts and lifts me down. When I reach for him to reciprocate, he stops me. Shit.

“ Mon minet , I don’t want you to think I’m doing this because I feel obligated or because I assume you expect it.”

“I know. But I wanted to do something for you for no other reason than to make you happy.”

I pull my shorts on, and we wrap our arms around each other. I don’t enjoy tasting myself, but I love the kiss we’re sharing. His hands cup my ass, and he pulls me onto my toes.

“Mom!”