I planned our trip to Paris as a way to appease her. She always got difficult and testy around our anniversary. But a last minute meeting came up, and Brooke wanted me to take her away for a night. After that, I lost interest in going. I figured Valentina would come back on her own. I never thought that she would choose that moment to finally grow a backbone. Like always, Valentina’s timing was just fucking perfect.
Angrily shoving those thoughts aside, I get up, letting the ball bounce on the carpeted floor, forgotten, and stand in front of the floor to ceiling window behind my desk. Rubbing the back of my neck, I stare at the skyline of the city. The lights are everywhere. Everything appears to be pulsing with life—that is everything on the other side of this glass wall.
I chuckle, thinking of the na?ve boy I once was. Before I discovered that evil lurked beneath the most perfect fa?ades. I often wonder what would have become of me had my father turned out to be a decent man. Would my life be any different? What if I had been adopted by a different family?
There was a time when I had hope.
Hope came in the shape of a tall girl-woman with wild hair the color of milk chocolate. When I first met Valentina, I saw someone full of dreams, full of life. I took one look into her guileless eyes and felt that maybe the world wasn’t such a shitty place. I wanted to believe what she believed in. I wanted to be the man she thought I was because that man was good and worthy. Unsullied. Was I in love with her? No, but I wanted to be. And for a while, I fooled myself into thinking that I had finally found peace.
But like all fantasies built upon shaky walls, the cracks soon started to show, slowly crumbling down and turning to dust. I wanted Valentina to save me from myself, and for a while I’d thought she could, but I was wrong. No one could save me. So hope contorted itself into despair, marring the beauty of the promised land within my reach.
Her love began to choke me. I couldn’t be near her without feeling impatience and disappointment. Disappointment because she wasn’t the woman I thought she was. She was weak, needy—her love for me made her pathetic. It was like a noose tied around my neck depriving me of air.
Valentina. Once my hope, she was now the one who could ruin everything that I’ve worked damn hard to achieve. And there’s no fucking way I’m going to let her.
A few doors down, I hear the faint sound of Larry’s grandfather clock announcing the hour. It’s past midnight. I pack my things, go down to the garage, get in my car, and head home.
But even on my drive across town, I can’t stop thinking about it all. My family. My past. My present. Valentina. Tightening my hold on the steering wheel, I change lanes and head somewhere else.
Brooke takes my cock in her hand and brings it between her legs, rubbing her clit with it. Sitting up on the bed with my back reclined against the frame, I watch her magnificent tits as she pushes me inside of her, coating my cock with her desire. And unlike my frigid wife who I basically have to coerce to have sex with me, this woman is made to fuck.
I circle her waist with my fingers as I guide the punishing rhythm of our coupling. It’s hard and fast. She slaps me when I lean over and bite her tit, making sure to draw blood. Darkness blacks out my conscience. I flip her onto her back and enter her cunt in one punishing thrust enjoying her cries of pain and need. When she begins to fight me, scratching my face and my arms, my hands go to her delicate neck. Tightening my hold around the fragile length, I watch her trying to take her next breath while my cock continues to piston in and out of her mercilessly—viciously—fucking the life out of her. Our bodies are covered in sweat. The room smells like our dirty souls. And I fucking love it.
She comes first, her eyes closing as her cunt spasms intensely around my cock. When I can’t hold it any longer, I pull out of her and spill myself on her stomach. I throw back my head, a shout torn from my chest, the intensity of the orgasm blinding.
I’m now lying in bed as I watch her naked form step out of the bathroom. While she towels her wet hair, I observe the red marks I’ve left behind on her body, perversely enjoying them.
“I might not be able to see you for sometime.”
She tilts her head to the side making her blond hair fall over her left shoulder. “Your wife is back?”
I shake my head, the anger and resentment that disappeared as soon I got here stir awake inside me. “Loretta has given me an ultimatum.”
“She did?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ve got it under control. Come over here.”
She discards the towel on the floor before joining me on the bed and straddling my lap. I raise a hand to trace my fingerprints on her neck. A depraved pleasure coats my senses. “Did I hurt you?”
Brooke shakes her head. “You’re one sick motherfucker, you know?”
I chuckle wryly before remembering my grandmother’s warning and sober up. “I’m going to miss this,” I say, running the back of my fingers along her tits to her stomach and down to her hot, wet pussy.
Closing her eyes, she moans when I spread her apart and rub her clit with my thumb. Her hands go to my shoulders for support as she begins to grind herself on me. “You make it sound final …” she gasps when I impale her with four of my fingers. “What are you planning to do?”
I kiss her instead of giving her an answer.
You’re my midnight thought and my 11:11 wish.
THE AIR SMELLS LIKE sweet grass, and the sun’s bright and warm with not a cloud in the sky. I stand on the veranda transfixed, watching the outline of a woman running and laughing as a group of kids chase her. Lips wide, her unruly curls flow down her back with a dandelion flower crown sitting unevenly on top of her head. She’s wearing a dress more suited for a day at the beach than an exclusive diplomatic party at a chateau outside Paris, but one look at her, and you wouldn’t give a damn whether she wore a sack of potatoes or a ball gown. You wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of her. And it isn’t because she’s the most striking woman in the place. There are others with far more classical features than hers. But none of them can hold a candle to her. She reminds me of the sea: untamed, unpredictable, but beautiful, so damn beautiful.
Valentina glances in my direction, eyes shining, an inviting, healthy blush on her cheeks, and waves enthusiastically before the pack of brats tackle her with hugs. I bury my hands in the front pockets of my slacks, enjoying the show, and laugh at the sight. Even the kids have lost their heart to her.
“It’s really lovely to hear that sound once again …”
Absorbed in the tableau unfolding in front of me, I’d failed to notice my cousin coming to stand next to me. Tearing my eyes away from Valentina, I focus on Sophie. Many say she’s the beauty of the family, and I have to agree. “What’s that?”
“You. Laughing.”
I nod. “There are a lot of kids here.”