The body remains standing for two beats before it falls backward onto the couch. Jerry’s corpse is staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, his mouth forever shut.

Slowly, I turn. Scott has his gun raised. The barrel is still smoking.

Anger makes my jaw lock tight. It takes three calming breaths before I can speak. “What the hell just happened?”

Scott lowers his weapon. “He was disrespectful.”

If Scott was my man, I’d put a bullet in his brain, but he answers to Magda. In two strides I’m in front of him. I can’t shoot him, but it doesn’t mean I can’t do this. I pull back and plant a fist under his jaw, sending him crashing into the coffee table.

Rhett aims his gun at Scott. His first priority is protecting me. Scott may be working for my mother, but, right now, in Rhett’s eyes, he’s an enemy. One wrong move and the curly head is dead. Scott knows it. From where he lies on the floor, he drops his weapon and raises his hands.

“No hard feelings,” he mumbles, moving his jaw from side to side.

I walk closer and stop over him, gritting out my words. “I wasn’t done.”

“He wasn’t going to tell you anything,” Scott says.

Bullshit. He was going to tell me a whole lot more, and I want my answers. Going down on my haunches, I grab Scott’s right hand and push back his middle finger. “Guess what, Goldie Locks? You’re going to stand in for the man you killed.”

He grunts when I apply pressure. “You can’t touch me. I’m on Magda’s payroll.”

This does it. Black dots pop in my vision. “The thing, you see, is I don’t give a fuck.”

Uncertainty creeps into his eyes. The way his pupils are bouncing around as he takes stock of the room tells me he’s considering his options. Fight or flight. He tries to pry his finger free, but I push back more. Before he snatches the gun on the floor, I use my free hand to slide it in Rhett’s direction. When his fist comes up, I grab and squeeze until he gnashes his teeth.

“Why did you shoot him, Scott?”

He spits next to my feet. “Fuck you.”

“If that’s how we’re playing, very well.” A bit more pressure and his finger snaps above the knuckle.

A chilling cry fills the room. For such a big man he has a high-pitched voice. He’ll make a good soprano.

I let go of his fist and move to his thumb. “You have nine fingers and ten toes left. This can take a while.”

He grunts and wheezes as I bend the digit back. His muscles tighten. He thinks I won’t see the blow coming, but I’ve been on the block far longer than him. I duck when his fist whizzes past my face and retaliate with a few punches in his ribs. Another one in his stomach takes out his wind.

“Fuck. Ouch.” He coughs and gurgles. “Fucking shit.”

Snap. That was his thumb.

His cry is ugly this time. From the doors slamming and the feet running on the landing, I gather people are fleeing the building. A gunshot is nothing new. Most people wait it out, hiding behind locked doors. Screams, they’re a totally different ballgame. Nobody wants to be tortured, and if the neighbor isn’t talking, chances are whoever is making him scream will come for you.

Scott is rolling around on the floor, curling into a fetal position. “You shit. You broke my thumb.”

“If I do both trigger fingers you’re out of business. Won’t be much of a guard without a trigger finger, will you?”

“I know fuck-all.” He grunts through his pain.

“I’ll ask you one last time. Why did you shoot Jerry?”

“I was following orders.”

I jerk him into a sitting position. “Whose orders?”

“Mrs. Louw’s. All I know, is she told me to take care of him.” His look is cutting. “It’s not my job to ask questions.”

I believe him. Rhett gives a small nod. He agrees.

“Take him back to the car,” I say.

As Rhett is helping a bent-over Scott downstairs, I go through the flat, but find nothing of interest. Popping the Monopoly cat in my pocket, I close the door and join the men.

“Drive Scott home,” I tell Quincy. “Rhett, keep a gun on him, just in case.”

Scott is fuming when they bundle him into the back, but he’s quiet. He’s too clever to insult me again.

Pulling off ahead of them, I race north on Jan Smuts Avenue with the speed of the devil. I need more answers, and Magda will give them. She’s working at the loan office in Yeoville today.

I barge straight into her office without knocking. “Why did you order Scott to shoot Jerry?”

“Gabriel.” Her manner is non-startled as she gets up and rounds her desk. “He was a nuisance.”

Mad anger coils through my insides, pulling my gut tight. “A nuisance? That’s enough reason for a killing?”

“That’s not it, and you know it. He was starting to cause problems.”

“You know what I think?” I close the distance. “I think you wanted to shut him up.”

A laugh bubbles from her throat. “Shut him up?”

“He was about to tell me what you ordered him to do.”

“Me? Give him an order? Are you out of your mind? The only contact I had with Jerry was to get more information on Charlie Haynes’ whereabouts.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’d believe that low-life car thief over me? Jerry was scared. Of course he’d spew all kinds of bullshit.” She crosses her arms. “Believe what you will, I did your job for you. Jerry gave your wife a car––a stolen car, may I add––to run away from you. If you were man enough he would’ve been dead the minute I gave you the information.”

“My first priority was finding Valentina. After that I had other priorities.”

“Like fucking her?”

To prevent myself from strangling Magda, I plaster my fists at my sides. “You won’t speak about my wife like that.”

“Calm down.” She drops her arms. “Since when can’t I call a spade a spade?”

“You’re vulgar.”

“I’m honest.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t have time for your games. Scott killed Jerry because we had to show the world no one messes with one of us, and Valentina is one of us. Giving her a car was as good as messing with you or me. The next time she runs, her friends will think twice about aiding her in her silly quests.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“It better not. It won’t look good for you if your own wife runs away.” She walks back to her chair and sits down. “Anything else?”

My words are measured. “Not today.”

“Good. Now get out of my hair. I have work to do.”

At the door, I say over my shoulder, “Oh, by the way, Scott has a couple of broken fingers.”

The charcoal lines around her eyes crinkle. “That was a childish thing to do.”

“He may also have a few broken ribs.” The words give me enormous satisfaction. “If he ever gatecrashes one of my parties again, on your invitation or not, he won’t leave alive.” I wink. “Keep that in mind if you value him as a member of your staff.”

Her eyes are spitting venom as I shut the door.

In my study at home, I add Jerry’s Monopoly cat to my jar of charms. One for each life I’ve taken. I may not have pulled the trigger, today, but the intention was there. In my book, intention is as good as action.

The jar is disturbingly full. It sits on the corner of my desk to remind me of who I am. I can put a face to every memento in that jar. I tell myself every one of them was justified, a necessary kill in this constant war of survival, but I’m losing my appetite for the killing. My path has been set, and I’ve been following it as my heritage demands. With this new path I’m walking with Valentina, it feels as if I’m veering farther and farther away from where I came. I don’t know where the hell I’m going, but I know I can’t go back. I want to walk this road with her too much, her and my baby.

* * *

The afternoon drags on with affairs that keep me occupied until late, and when I finally pull into Sylvia’s driveway it’s close to seven. Dinner is served at eight. I’m hoping the get the big talk with Carly out of the way before we sit down for the meal.

Sylvia waits at the door, a hand on her hip. “Hey, Gab. Gabriel,” she corrects, catching herself. Her smile is sweet and filled with the womanly self-assurance of someone who knows she’s physically desirable. “You had me wondering about this hasty dinner all day.”

“I didn’t mean to give you extra work.”

She laughs softly and holds out a hand for my jacket. “Don’t fret. My cook did all the work.” She deposits the jacket on the coat stand. “Are you going to tell me the reason we’re having dinner with Carly, or are you going to make me sweat it out another hour?”

“Where’s Carly?” I look around the foyer and up the staircase. I don’t want my daughter to overhear anything prematurely.

“In her room. I’ll call her down in a second. Shall we have a drink?”

She’s already on her way to the lounge. I follow, looking around the foreign space. I’ve been in Sylvia’s house a few times, but it still feels unfamiliar. Overly stuffy. Too perfectly decorated. No pets, books, or shoes lying around. Nothing to hint at life. Carly’s toys were never splayed on our stairs or even the playroom carpet. Will Valentina allow life into our home? My chest fills with something warm and light as I picture trains, fire engines, and stuffed toys littering our floors.

“Here you go.” She hands me a glass of Scotch on the rocks and takes one for herself, which she clinks to mine. “Now, tell me the purpose of this secretive family meeting.”

It’s probably better that I prepare her before I speak to Carly. I mull over the words, but there’s no easy way of saying it. Finally, I settle for short and sweet. “Valentina and I got married yesterday.”

Her hand stills with the glass halfway to her mouth, her red nail varnish standing out against the white of her skin where she grips the tumbler. Her eyes grow large, and her lips thin.

“She’s going to have my baby.”

Pulling back her arm, she slaps me across the cheek. I saw the blow coming. I could’ve stopped it, but I allowed her the violence as an outlet for her shock.

“You son of a bitch. How dare you humiliate our family like this?” Her voice rises. “You married the maid?”

“You know making her our maid was Magda’s idea of getting the payback she believed we deserved.”

“She caught you, didn’t she?”

“Actually,” I give her a cold smile, “I caught her.”

“Why?” She bangs the glass down on the mantelpiece, drops of alcohol sloshing over the sides. “You could’ve had Helga or any other woman of your social standing.”

“I don’t want any other woman.” My words are measured. “I want her.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Is this some kind of midlife crisis? Is this why you have to go for a girl fifteen years younger than you? You have to prove to yourself you still have it?”

“Is that why you’re getting engaged to a younger man?”

“Fuck you, Gabriel. It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not, because your decisions when it comes to relationships and marriage are not based on love or affection, but on which move will serve your financial and political position best.”

“Love and affection?” She utters a laugh. “Are you telling me you love her?”

“I don’t know about love, not anymore, but whatever I feel is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to being happy.”

“You’re a fool.”

“I was a fool for loving you once.”

“You still do.”

“Maybe––you’ll always be the mother of my child––but I want her more than any woman I’ve ever wanted.”

The color drains from her cheeks. Rage fills her violet-blue eyes, but she maintains a calm voice. “I will not acknowledge that woman or her child.”

“It’s my child. Your disagreeable nature will make things more difficult for all of us, but that’s your choice.”

She pushes out her chin. “I’ll call Carly and give the two of you a moment. Come through to the dining room when you’re ready.”

As her heels click over the marble, I take a long sip from my drink. A moment later, my daughter comes bouncing down the stairs.

“Dad!” She gives me one of those rare hugs. “Dinner in the week? At mom’s house? What’s going on?”

I leave my drink on the table and pull her down next to me on the couch. Through the open door, I spot Sylvia making her way to the kitchen. When our eyes meet, she gives me an accusing look.

I pull my attention back to Carly. “How’s school, princess?”

“Good. You’ve seen my grades.”

“How about living with your mom? Is it working out well?”

“Yes. Is this about asking me to move back to your place?”

“Of course not.” I’m stalling for time, but by God it’s difficult to broach the subject. “I have news.” I put a bright smile on my face. “Very exciting news.”

“Dad,” she sweeps her hair behind her ear, “what is it?”

“I got together with someone.”

“As in dating? That’s great!”

“Actually, it’s a lot more serious than dating. We already took it to the next level.”

“You’re engaged?” She shrieks. “Oh, my God! Who is she?”

“Not engaged, Carly,” I say gently. “I jumped the gun and married her.”

Her smile drops. She stares at me with the disappointment I expected but hoped not to see. “You’re married?”

“Yes.”

“W–when?”

“Yesterday.”

“I–I don’t understand. Why didn’t you say something? Why do it in secret?”

“It was an impulsive decision. It’s not that I didn’t want you there for an important event. It just happened on the spur of the moment.” This is the closest to honesty I can get.

Her mouth pulls down. “Oh, my God, I have a stepmother.”

“I don’t want you to think of her as a stepmom. Sylvia is your mother. She’s my wife, and it’ll mean a lot to me if you can be kind to her.”

Her bottom lip starts to tremble. “Who is she? I mean, do I even know her?”

“Yes, you do.”

A frown pulls her eyebrows together. “Who?”

“It’s Valentina.”

Before the name is out she’s on her feet. “Dad, no! How could you? She’s our maid!”

I get up and place my hands on her shoulders. “Carly, calm down, please, and listen to me. There’s nothing wrong with being a maid.”

“She irons my clothes and cleans my room, for God’s sake!”

“She was our maid. Not any longer. We have a cleaning service for that, now.”

“A maid! Could you not have made a less humiliating choice?”

“There’s nothing humiliating about being a maid. Valentina was studying to become a vet before she started working for us, and she only came to work for us because she owed a lot of money and didn’t have a choice.”

She jerks free from my hold and turns her back on me.

I groan inwardly. “I thought you liked her.”

“Is it the money? Did she marry you for your money?”

“No.”

She twirls to face me again. “What then?” Her laugh is wry. In this moment, she looks so much like her mother. “Don’t tell me you’re in love.”

“She’s going to have a baby,” I say softly.

Like Sylvia, her eyes grow big. Shock washes over her features, leaving her pale and silent.

I take her hand. “This doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’ll always love you. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but I hope you’ll accept Valentina as a part of this family.”

She pulls away, clasping her hands behind her back. “I’ll be seventeen in a month. You don’t think it’s a bit late to start a new family?”

“It’s not a new family, princess. We’re all family.”

“She’s not my family, and she’ll never be!”

With a sob, she runs from the room. I’m torn between going after her and giving her space. I decide on the latter. I guess that went as well as it could. In time, she’ll come around.

Sylvia leans her hip against the doorframe and swirls the liquor in her glass. “Congratulations, Gabriel. I hope you’re happy.”

She watches me with contempt as I cross the floor, a look not unfamiliar to me. It’s the same one she gave me in bed, right before I touched her.

Craning her neck up at me, she continues, “I suppose dinner is off. I don’t know about Carly, but if she feels like I do, she’s lost her appetite.”

“I understand.”

She flattens her body in the frame for me to pass. As I go for my jacket, I’m acutely aware of my limp and the way her eyes burn on my back.

“Goodnight, Sylvia. I’ll call Carly tomorrow.”

The ice clinks in her glass. “You do that.”

I see myself out and drive the short distance home. I like to tell myself Sylvia bought a house close to ours for Carly’s sake, but it’s always been the prestige of the neighborhood. Like Magda, Sylvia comes from a long line of descendants where money is everything and cast is determined by birth. The house staff doesn’t mix with the proprietors. In her eyes Valentina will always be the servant. Up until today, I never realized how many of Sylvia’s values are embedded in Carly.

When I get home, I find Valentina on her knees in our bathroom with her head over the toilet.

Rushing to her side, I wipe the hair from her face. “Damn, Valentina. Are you all right?”

A feeble wave of her hand is supposed to send me away. “Just morning sickness.” Her body convulses, but her stomach must be empty, because nothing comes out.

Concern burns in my gut. “I thought this was only supposed to happen in the morning.”

She takes two steadying breaths. “All times of the day.” Her laugh is weak, but not without humor. “This baby doesn’t like pasta.”

I wipe my hand over her clammy forehead. “What did you eat?”

“Fettuccini with cèpe mushrooms. I had lunch with Kris at Roma’s.” She turns around and slumps against the toilet. Her face is pasty white and dark rings mar her perfect eyes. “About that…” A stern look invades those bleary eyes. “What are you doing sending Kris all that stuff?”

I bent down and lift her into my arms. Even at four months pregnant she weighs nothing. The worry weighs heavier on my shoulders. She looks exhausted. From the way her body is reacting, I poisoned her with my seed. I let her down on the rug and start to pull the dress over her head. Obediently, she lifts her arms.

“I asked you a question, Gabriel.”

I unhook the clasp of her bra and push the straps down her arms. “She’s your friend.”

“Is that your motivation for spending a fortune on her practice?”

The panties follow next, but her boots prevent me from removing the stockings. “The way things were going, her practice wasn’t going to survive much longer.”

“If I stay, Kris gets a revamped practice, and if I leave, she’s dead.”

“Yes.”

My answer is harsh, but she needs to understand the lengths I will go to. The knowledge that she’s here against her will is a bitter pill to swallow, but I will gobble down flames, fire, and toxic waste if that’s what I have to do.

I crouch down to unzip her boots. “Why bring it up? Are you planning on leaving?”

“No.”

Right answer. “Then let Kris enjoy the gift and stop worrying about it. Except for the nauseating pasta, how was your lunch date?”

Her expression brightens. “Good. I missed Kris. She’s a good person, you know.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

I remove her boots and then the stockings, allowing my fingers to linger longer than necessary.

“You’re back early.” Her look is thoughtful. “How did Carly take the news?”

“Not well, but she’ll come round.”

“Oh, no, Gabriel. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant––”

My gut twists with guilt. “I don’t want to hear you talk like this.”

If I were going to come clean, now would be the time, but my decision is made. She opens her mouth, but I still her with a finger on her lips. No more talk of our inside-out, right-in-every-wrong-kind-of-way relationship. No more talk, at least not for the rest of tonight, not while her naked body is right in front of me. Going down on my knees, I cup her hips and pull her toward me. She gives two tiny steps, but the momentum makes her stumble into me. I press my lips against her abdomen and hold them there until her gasp startles me.

“Oh, wow.” She utters a delighted giggle. “I felt him.”

My throat tightens with an unknown emotion. “The baby?”

“He moved.” She stares at her stomach in wonder. “It felt like butterfly wings.”

We laugh together as I splay my hands over the tight skin of her belly while she cups her hands over mine. I’m unable to process the wonder unfolding beneath my palms. She’s a miracle, and she makes my life happier for this incredible gift.

“Do it again,” she says, lifting her hands to give me access.

I plant kisses all over her belly, starting with her navel and ending on her pubic bone.

She says my name like it’s a happy word. A ten-megawatt smile burns on my face.

“Did it work?”

“Yes.” She laughs again, her eyes filling with reverence. “Oh, my God, Gabriel.” She takes my hand and moves it back over her stomach. “Can you feel it?”

“It’s too early, beautiful. Tell me what it’s like.”

“It tickles inside.”

A happy glow transforms the pale face with the dark rings. It’s a beautiful moment I don’t deserve, but I take it greedily. I’d stay on my knees forever to be part of these magical milestones Sylvia wouldn’t share with me. For another moment longer, I hold her to me, pressing my face against her warm skin, inhaling the raspberry fragrance I associate with her. I’m reluctant to let go, but she’s probably tired and weak from the bout of sickness. Tearing myself away, I run a shower. There’s enough space for us both to stand comfortably, but I sit on the bench and drape her over my body, unwilling to break our contact. She lets me take care of her, washing her body and hair.

When we’re both dry, I carry her to our bed. My only intention is to hold her while she rests, but when her hand wraps around my shaft, my willpower dissolves. I roll over her, keeping my weight on my arms, and kiss her lips. She gasps as my cock sinks into the heat of her pussy, and then there are only moans as I make love to her, slowly and reverently.

* * *

Comes morning, I force myself to leave our bed. Valentina is sleeping, and if I stay another second, I’m going to wake her with my cock in her pussy. Again. We made love until late, and she needs her sleep. I can’t act like a goddamn horny teenager around her all of the time. The problem is I want her more than ever. With enticing curves and pretty features, she’s always been my perfect little toy, my pet, but now she’s a goddess. When I fell for her, it was for her strength and loyalty. This time round, I’m smitten by her unconditional love for the life she carries and her uncomplaining nature in dealing with the pregnancy curveballs.

Some women get sick, some feel tired, some have backache, and some develop cravings, but Valentina has everything. This pregnancy came at her with the full-blown force of a hurricane. I’m in the shower when she storms into the bathroom and vomits her guts out.

I’m out in a flash, wrapping a towel around my waist. I let her finish before helping her up.

She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Tangling my fingers in her hair, I push her cheek against my chest. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. We’re in this together, baby.”

She puts an inch of distance between us and gives me a grateful, guilty kind of smile that shatters my heart, because I don’t deserve one drop of her thankfulness and especially not her guilt.

She touches her wild morning hair. “I must look a mess.”

“You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

This time her smile blinds me with its radiance. She cups my cheek on the scarred side of my face. “You’re sweet.”

“Sweet?” I advance on her, trapping her against the vanity. “Is that how you’d describe me?”

“Like sugar.”

“Sugar, eh?” She shrieks when I catch her around the waist and lift her onto the counter. “You’re doing serious damage to my reputation.”

“Just a big, old, fluffy, sweet bear,” she taunts.

“Old? Fluffy? Now you’re asking for it.” I tickle her sides, inviting more shrieks and a wild bout of screaming.

“Stop,” she says through tears of laughter, trying to catch my wrists.

I catch hers instead and pin them to the mirror above her head. I want to look at her. She’s insanely gorgeous when she wakes up and even more so when she’s happy. Laughing tears cling to her eyelashes, making them appear darker. Traces of the same wetness run over her flushed cheeks. Silky hair tumbles in curls over her shoulders. Her breasts are firm, their new weight pulling them slightly down. Under my unabashed scrutiny, her nipples harden, pulling her areolas tight. I’m standing between her legs, her knees brushing up against my hips. My cock stirs. My breathing quickens. The mound of her shaved pussy presses against my dick where it rises under the towel. I rip the towel from my body and cover the taps to protect her back before bending her knees and placing her heels on the edge of the countertop. She’s spread wide, and it’s all for me.

I place the pad of a finger on her clit. “Mine.”

“Yours,” she echoes, her breathing shallow.

“I want to make you burn.”

“Then touch me.”

The laughter and playfulness are gone. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Touch her. I shouldn’t, but I’m not strong enough to resist. My conscience says she needs to rest, but my lust says she’s awake, anyway. Fuck my good intentions. I need her. I need her pleasure. I need her intense pleasure. It’s too soon to take her like at Mount Grace. Fucking her ass like that, I kind of lost it after not having had her for so long, and I don’t want to lose it again. I don’t want to hurt her, at least not in a non-erotic way.

I squeeze her wrists. “Keep your hands up.”

Fear mixes with excitement in her eyes. She wants this, because this is what I taught her. This is how I made her. It’s all she knows.

Reaching over her for the wall cabinet, I take out the orgasm oil I saved for an occasion like this. I unscrew the cap and deposit the bottle on the counter. She watches me with wide eyes, licking her lips nervously.

All of my attention hones in on her pussy. Carefully, using the fore and middle finger of one hand, I part her lips, exposing the treasure buried between them. Her clit is engorged. Wetness glistens around her slit. She’s turned on. Hell, so I am. My cock is about to combust, and I’m only looking at her. Holding her open, I turn the bottle upside-down and wait for a drop to form at the dripper nozzle.

I catch her gaze, silently commanding her eyes to hold mine. “This is going to feel warm, but it’s perfectly safe.”

She communicates her trust with a small nod.

“Good girl.”

I drip the stimulant oil on her clit and massage it into the nub. Her flesh swells and turns a shade darker. Heat penetrates the calloused skin of my fingertip. I can only imagine how hot her delicate clit must be burning. The sight of that delectable flesh turning to a torturous blaze under my ministrations is enough to make me ejaculate without touching my dick, but I tear my gaze away to read the expression in her eyes. Her head is resting against the mirror, her face turned to the side. Two more seconds, and the hotness will turn into a quick-lasting, intense inferno. Right on cue, her eyes fly open. Red blotches color her cheeks.

She utters a low moan. “It burns.”

“I know, baby.”

I stop the massaging, giving her time to absorb the sensation. As the intensity climbs, her clit swells. Her feet slip from the counter. She tries to relieve the sensation by closing her legs, but I need to watch. Pushing open her thighs, I trap her body with the weight of mine and press my oil-coated finger on her asshole.

“Want to burn here, too?” I ask, kissing her shoulder.

“No.” She squirms under me. “Please.”

“Then keep your legs open.”

She rotates her hips, trying to press her burning parts on the cold marble, but I catch her legs to keep her still. She gnaws on her bottom lip and tries to be quiet as she rides the wave that burns through her genitals, but her whimpers are becoming louder.

“Please, Gabriel. I need to come.”

The stimulant makes her clit pulse with need, and the bite of heat will only make it hotter when she comes. Her pussy is wet with her arousal, the lips dark pink and swollen, inviting me to sink my cock into the soft, warm depth beyond. On the brink of exploding, my cock spills pre-cum. I part her folds with one hand and flick her over-stimulated clit with my nail. Every time my nail connects with her skin she dilates a little more and screams a little louder. I count every flick, measuring the pressure carefully. Too hard or soft and she won’t find release like this. She comes on the eleventh count with a wail that lifts the roof. Her pussy contracts around nothing but air, but it won’t be empty for long. I press the head of my cock on her clit, rubbing in circles to prolong the orgasm. She clamps her legs around my hips. The heat that drove her to this high penetrates the tip of my penis and burns down my shaft in a slow, agonizing mixture of painful pleasure. The urge to spear into her is fierce, but I count to five, take a few deep breaths, and enter her carefully.

Her pussy is tight, hot, and wet with a distant echo of a burn. I stop when I’m buried to the hilt. This is what I always want, to take her so deep she doesn’t know where she begins and I end. There’s an endless need to my rhythm as I start pumping. She drops her arms to grip the basin for support as I shove into her, making her back collide with the mirror. I need her to come again, with me this time. Having made it my business to understand her body, I know how to make that happen. Gripping both nipples between my fingers, I use the hard tips as leverage to bounce her curves. The clench of her pussy on my cock is the reaction I’m after. I thrust harder and pick up my pace. Her body tenses, and her legs hug me tighter.

“Come, beautiful.” I release her nipples and grab her breasts in my palms, kneading the flesh as my own climax starts to build at the base of my spine. “Goddamn. Fuck.”

My load explodes like hot jets of lava. I bite back another curse and fall over her, trapping her body between my arms.

“Goddammit, Valentina.” I rest our foreheads together while I catch my breath.

By the time I feel more or less steady, she’s still lying back against the mirror, her muscles like mush.

“Don’t move.”

I turn on the shower and rinse us both, taking care to wash her gently. When she’s dry, I coat her genitals with a vaginal balm to alleviate any lingering burn and just to be sure her asshole, too.

Wiping my fingers on her inner thigh, I search her eyes. “How are you doing?”

Her smile is soft and sleepy. “Mm.”

I wish I could take her back to bed, but our first appointment will be here in thirty minutes. We don’t have time for more than a chaste kiss. “Get dressed and come down for breakfast. You need to eat. After breakfast, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Just do as I say.”

“I’ll go check on Charlie, first. It was his first night in his new room.”

“Let him sleep. He was up late with Rhett, watching movies.”

“This is new to him.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“I just––”

My palm lands on her naked backside. Smack. “Are you deliberately provoking me to spank your ass?”

For a crazy moment a new bout of lust flares in her eyes. It looks as if she may consider that forbidden spanking, but then she turns to brush her hair.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand with a message from Magda. Our appointment arrived early. Thank God Valentina doesn’t ask more questions. I have no idea how she’ll react to the man waiting for us downstairs.