is accepting him, easier than I thought possible.
“Drake, oh my fucking god, more please, please more.” I’m pleading as I press back. Both his hands move to my hips, controlling his movement.
“Slow, sweetheart, almost there. I know, I know.” His fingers are digging into my hips. I push my face into the pillow, fighting back the scream for more.
He’s still going too slowly as he pushes in. Finally, he’s there. I feel his skin against mine and there’s no hint of pain. He isn’t moving, just letting me take in the feel of him. I feel thick and full, full of him, as if there isn’t anywhere I don’t feel him. It feels achingly right, as if the only place he belongs is inside me. I want to scream, I want to cry, a riot of emotion is overflowing inside me until I feel like I’m floating away, more; I want more. Talking isn’t something I can do, so I move, asking for what I can’t vocalize. Knowing exactly what I’m asking for he begins to move. So damned slow, he moves out just a few inches before thrusting back inside. I moan my need for more. My plea is ignored. He keeps up a slow and steady thrusting, just a little farther out each time, then slowly back inside me. Gradually, he’s beginning to move faster and I’m crying out for more. I’m begging, but he’s in control and driving me out of my mind. As he begins to pull out again, instinctively, my body clings and clenches to keep him inside me. His swear is a low growl, and need has me doing it again, and again.
“Damn it, Ria, I am trying to take care of you.”
“Then don’t make me beg.” I reply as I squeeze him again. His control is gone now.
No longer gentle, he’s thrusting deeply and fiercely in and out of me. I lose all strength in my arms and push back against him as I cling to the mattress. Unlike before, there is no warning, one moment I’m moaning for more, the next my orgasm hits me as if it’s a half-ton train going eighty miles an hour. I scream his name again, and again.
Drake keeps moving harder now, and I’m shaking over every inch of my body. I know if it weren’t for his hands on my hips I would be sinking into the mattress. He’s moving faster and harder, pain begins to mingle with pleasure. My climax is building higher and higher, and I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams of my body. His fingers move into me, and stroking my clitoris sends me over the edge. The orgasm is explosive, I’m breaking into a million little pieces, then I feel Drake fill me full again. The feeling is hot and has me melting until I’m boneless. My pussy is clenching for what it’s missing, my ass is clenching in appreciation of how amazing he feels.
When he pulls out, he hugs me into the curve of his body. I feel we’re both covered in sweat. The smell of him is so good it has me licking his chest and he shudders.
“Dear god, Ria, you are killing me inch by beautiful fucking inch. Lay still, I can’t hold up my damned head.”
Laughing, I snuggle into his side. Awe that I’m here, in his room and his bed with his arms around me, fills me. The dreams I’ve had of this moment don’t even come close. Looking up at the cathedral ceiling, there is a charming scene of day turning into night and fairies cavorting happily. “How pretty and surprising, I imagined mirrors above your bed. Was this your parent’s room. Tell me about them, Drake.”
A hand runs through my hair. “Yes, this was my parent’s room, my mother loved that scene. It was inspired by some painting she’d seen and my father had it done for her as a surprise. My parents were quite the pair. My father loved making money. He grew up wealthy, in this house. My mother was a poor working class girl from the south side of Chicago. They met in Marshall Field’s. She told him the tie he was wearing was ugly, to come with her, she could pick out a better tie blind-folded. He swears he fell in love with her at first sight. She thought he was a jerk, toying with her. She turned down his daily request for a date until finally he showed up with a ring. She said fine, but a year engagement. He laughed, they were in Vegas by sundown.
I think the year would have done them both good. She didn’t feel comfortable in his world. He married her and went right back into the office without making sure she was settled in. They loved each other, it was clear, but if you think I’m bad, I have nothing on my father. Tyrant, he fit the word completely, money would fix everything except with my mother. I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t come along they would have been divorced before the year was out. My mother finally had someone who wouldn’t walk away when she wanted to talk, someone she could shower her love on. My father wasn’t much for holding hands, let alone any public display of affection. He was happy enough I was a boy when I came along. Except he wanted a nanny and he got one.
My mother fell a little less in love with him every time he threw money at a problem, problems being me and my mother. His argument was he was in the office making money to keep us in the lifestyle we deserved, which was a lie. The family trust will keep our grandchildren living well. The only difference between what my father and I put in the bank and the trust is that the trust is set at a dollar amount, only to be paid monthly. My mother found out how much the trust was paying out a month. She didn’t forgive him for lying. Enough was never enough for him.
Gradually, he came to resent my mother not being there in the few hours he wanted her. In his mind, I was to blame. He wanted to ship me off to private school and it all went downhill after that fight. My mother won the fight, but at the cost of her marriage. It was painful, because the love was there, they had simply forgotten how to show it. When I was ten they divorced, both died a little that day. They tried pretending otherwise, I knew what you had gone through with Justin, I watched my mother try to date. The men ran when they saw me. My father tried dating and the women resented my presence. Only now, my father didn’t resent me anymore. With me as the only focus, he found out how smart I was and I guess saw me as my own person. It wasn’t long after that the governess was hired and the school fired.
As each day passed, my mother seemed to fade away. Only two years after they were divorced, she died of a heart attack. The doctors were mystified, my dad and I knew though, she died of a broken heart. My father never stopped saying he was sorry for it. After that, he really became involved with me. He cut his hours back and was really there. He would sit in on my lessons, taking me into the office, not just to show it and me off, but for me to learn about what he would be giving me when I was old enough.
When I went off to school, with his hours empty he fell into a relationship. At first, I was five-year-old angry, until gradually I saw Debbie made him happy when he was so lonely. She wasn’t a bad woman, she just wasn’t my mom. Thankfully, she never tried to be. My father wasn’t stingy when he died, but she didn’t come out as far ahead as I think she thought she would. She left Chicago a very pissed off woman and settled in Los Angeles.
Time for a soak and then bed, I think. I don’t want you too tired tomorrow.” With ease he picks me up, walking me into the bathroom and setting me down.
I smile as he settles me down on the edge of the large jetted bathtub that is big enough for the both of us and maybe even two more people.
“Okay, yes, I like carrying you around. You’re so damned little and I love that I have the freedom to do it. Touching you and holding you in all the ways forbidden to us for so long.”
Laughing, I kiss him. “I’m not complaining. I need to put my hair up so I don’t get it wet.”
He’s up and goes to the vanity and opens a drawer. Pulling out a hair tie, he brings it back and hands it to me. Pulling my hair into a bun, I shiver from the cool air coming in from the vents. “It’s not full, but step in and I’ll keep you warm. I promise.”
Drake keeps his promise. I get more out of him about his mother and their trip to Switzerland. I find out he speaks three other languages. He whispers French into my ear with what I’m sure is a flawless accent. Then Italian flows out against my throat and he slips inside me. We both stop talking until we’re back in bed. Without allowing me even a pair of panties, he drags me into his arms and orders me to sleep, and I do.
Chapter Eight
Norman drives us into the city and we pull up outside one of Chicago’s most exclusive restaurants. It’s been written up not just in the local papers, but in newspapers in New York and Miami and it’s agonizingly hard to get into.
“Drake, this place is going to cater a wedding? Our wedding?”
Jane is the one who answers. “I was stunned too. Drake told me to call and when I did and mentioned Drake, I was talking to the chef in less than a minute.”
The door opens and it’s the chef, smiling and hugging Drake. I can only stand and watch as they clap each other on the back. They’re greeting each other and then Drake pulls me close and introduces me.
“Fernando, this is my fiancée, Ria. Ria, this is an old friend of mine, Fernando.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ria. I have to tell you, sitting up late and drinking into the early hours of the morning, listening Drake talk about you was getting weary. I’m glad you are finally putting us both out of our misery, I don’t think my liver could take much more.”