Chapter 12
Hurt
Amor POV
"Amor, I never asked you as we had a lot to do, but now that we have a two-hour flight, I want to know who you are. To tell the truth, I got confused when I found out you have an Italian grandma, an American surname, and a company in Mexico City," the temptress in front of me asked after letting go of her spectacles and her workpad onto the table. She has been enthralled in this job since Dani came to the office that day. I have only had two quickies under the shower as she was exhausted with the whole thing.
Not that I didn't like or enjoy her excitement, but I was missing her like a madman. Even if we slept together, it would be enough, but she only worked.
"Why are you not answering, or is there something you're hiding?" she asked again, and my inner self came alive. She can't go anywhere now. She is mine, and I am dying to be hers.
I unbuckled my seat belt and did the same with hers. She was looking at me, startled, and a gasp escaped her when I kissed her furiously, taking our breath away.
"I missed you so much, and I know as soon as the plane steps on the ground, you will lead the crew, and I will not see you until the next flight. I want all of you now. I need you, Sarahi." I breathed my words on her lips. When she didn't move or say anything, I looked up only to meet her chocolate chip eyes that were washed by a hint of water, giving them the perfect glint.
"I missed you too, but you will answer my question. I want to know more about you."
I couldn't hold myself anymore and removed the plane floor from her feet as I grabbed her ass and put it on my shoulder.
I had chosen to fly alone with her on my private jet in the hope of getting my chance to worship her.
Yes, I'd rather say worship than the L word.
I carefully placed her over the enormous bed, and she gives me her giggles that make her cheeks have those dimples that are killing my poor heart.
I hover over her and she just looks at me, relaxing her face, but the desire inside her ignites the fire for her lust to be reflected in her auburn eyes.
Yeah, her eyes change color depending on her state. I'm crazy about each shade of them.
I don't know what happened to me, but I lost the hungry need to possess her. Instead, I want to kiss her, touch her, and fill my lungs with her scent, rather than hear her voice chanting my name louder than the last time.
She is wearing a green top combined with an emerald skirt and her signature sneakers, which cover her entire wardrobe.
My favorite thing nowadays is to fix her clothes because she is too messy, and I enjoy doing it, just like I did for years with Maribel. I just don't like things that are out of order or discolored. She is grateful and flashes me a smile, then gives me the sweetest kiss ever. With Maribel, it used to be hugs and a cup of cocoa that only she could make better than any bar.
I am so into her that I haven't been sleeping since I met her. I carefully run my fingers through her inky hair, making sure not to hurt them. My lips find their way to her forehead and start kissing her eyelid, cheek, and nose, until finally, I reach her parted lips, inhaling the silence. She is perfect and she is mine. Only mine. I want to touch her, kiss her, hold her, make love to her, care for her, and own her. No one has the right to breathe the lavender fragrance she possesses around her.
With this idea in my head, I kissed her lips. I was nibbling on them, leaving her panting hard. Then I went down her throat, leaving some hickeys.
My innocent wife has no idea what I am doing to her, because my beast is out of control since she hugged that friend of hers at the airport.
If before I regretted leaving a scar on her body, now I want the world to witness them, especially the male gender.
She is exposed before my hungry eyes and whimpering. Her reddish-brown nipples have perked up and eagerly await my lips to suck them. Her hourglass belly vibrates under my touch. She has crossed her thighs, but I want to see her. I spread her legs wider and a touch of glitter covers her brown folds. I have seen many before, but hers is different. So different that it puts me naked on my knees, eager to taste it for the very first time. It is mine, after all. My nose glides between the folds and I am introduced to her sensual aroma. I had read that some women smell good and some smell bad, depending on what they eat and how they take care of themselves.
Sarahi has a high level of hygiene, and she meticulously maintains her vegan diet. Before I become hangry and devour her, I kiss her delicate petals that twitch, attempting to close up. How cute. Now I can't resist and I will take what is rightfully mine.
Her orgasmic cry fills the air as my head is down. My hands struggle to keep her legs from crashing into my head.
Her fluids fill my throat, her liquid covers my face. Her hand on my hair indicates that she wants me to go deeper inside her. Her innocent perky breasts tempt me as I graze over them with her fluids and suck on them, leaving hickeys that resemble second areolas, causing her to hit my shoulder. I reluctantly stop when I see her crying and I realize I did something wrong. I can see that I am fully aroused, but I choose not to proceed. I don't deserve it, especially after making her cry. She immediately covers herself with the blanket when she realizes I'm not going to do anything else. She turns her back to me and silently cries. I go to the bathroom to relieve myself. I am ashamed, but I couldn't control the image of her shaking hands with another man and smiling at him. It enraged my inner beast and I ended up hurting her.
I know she will never allow me to touch her anytime soon, and I deserve it for being an asshole.
I went back to her and took an aloe vera gel, which is a natural remedy to relax her pain. As soon as she noticed me there, she drew back in fear.
“I am going to the bathroom now,” she said but turned back.
“You could just refuse to answer my question; you don't need to hurt me like this. Because today you did it, just like I did in my dark times when I punished my body.” She looked at me, broken, showing the marks I had implemented on her body.
For the rest of the flight, she avoided sharing the same space with me and was focused on the project. She wore a light dress without a bra, but it was hard for her to maintain proper posture as her bosom was free-flowing.
I noticed her eyes had red veins when she came out of the bathroom while I was dressing up. I hated the eerie silence that filled the room. How did I lose control of my mouth and hands?
I wanted to say something, but she was inside her shell at that time. Now I cannot allow a single wrong to create a divide between us.
I got up, went to her, removed her earbuds and her workpad, and carried her on bride style. I went back to the room and closed the door with my foot.
I put her feet down, removed her dress that was hurting her bosom because the fabric was harsh on her skin. I also removed my shirt and sat down on the sofa, holding her hand. I gestured for her to sit on my lap, and although she reluctantly agreed, she avoided looking at me.
"I was hungry for you and couldn't control myself when I had the chance. But what my teeth can destroy, my lips will cure."
"What makes you think that I want you to kiss me again?"
"The frustration you have in your eyes now is because you didn't get what you wanted before, and that is a good raw and rough way to make the turbulence of plain jealousy in your body shiver under me," I said, but she walked away.
"I am not a wanting whore. I can control my needs."
Crap.
She didn't just call herself a whore, but my wife too.
"How dare you call my wife a whore?!" I yelled at her, gripping her elbows tightly, but I wasn't done yet.
"I hurt you, then hurt me back. Why do you need to call yourself that obnoxious name?
You want to know about my family?! But I don't know my family.
I barely remember my mom's face or her sweet voice. You know what I remember from her? The way she yelled before the accident happened. She yelled at my father because he was sleeping with my primary school teacher. I was in the car when the accident happened, and I lost every memory linked to my mom. I don't know if she loved me or hated me because I was his blood."
I didn't know she had a sister until she appeared at our house with a 3-year-old Maribel in her arms.
I don't know how my parents ended up together. Did they love each other or were they pushed together? I don't know anything about my grandparents from my father's side or from my mother's side. I know that when I was a kid, I used to go to Nonna Rosa's often. But when I started high school, I was so focused on school and being the first to earn a scholarship that I didn't need my father's money. He couldn't even keep it in his pants for more than a year before I caught him sleeping with my supposed auntie. Then Martin came along. I can't even have a normal conversation with him, even though we are brothers. His mom taught him to hate me at a very young age. The only one who spoke to me was Maribel, who never heard her mom's words.
"I left everything here when I started college in the USA.
I came when my father got sick and needed to save the company, so the 1345 employees wouldn't lose their jobs. Like this, they wouldn't need to cross the border, risking being raped, robbed, kidnapped, or even losing their lives.
This is my life, which isn't as polished as yours. It lacks the light of your family.
My memory walls are empty, unlike yours that are filled with memories.
I missed you so much this week, when I only had two brief showers with you. All I wanted was to spend hours worshipping your body, losing control, and making you pregnant. I am craving for a family, and only you can give it to me among all the other women in this world."