Page 129 of Perfume Girl
“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Beauregard.”
He showed me some sensual new steps. “Try this.”
“I can do that.”
Astor danced effortlessly. This was Havana in Astor’s blood…its culture, history, and everything that was rich and wonderful about Cuba that ran through his veins. I loved this about him so much because it made him exotic and alluring. He was everything wonderful that my world had been missing.
He was behind me now, moving slowly, seductively, and I let him lead me as the music soaked into my body and we became one.
Astor spun me around and cupped my face, kissing me hard and then staring into my eyes. “Be mine, Raquel, no matter what.”
I fell against him and crushed my lips to his.
Astor lifted me and lowered us both onto the mattress while the storm raged outside and the Cuban music flowed around us. It was beautiful and romantic and we hurried to undress—both of us tearing off our clothes. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, wanted to kiss him everywhere, and most of all I wanted to believe that this was pure and real and everything that I had once dreamed a relationship could be. The way he looked at me convinced me he cared, the way he spoke my name as he reached around to unclip my bra and set my breasts free so that his mouth could lavish affection on each nipple, nipping and biting, sending ripples of pleasure through me. I wanted to lick him all over and this made me laugh.
“What?” He stopped to look at me.
“You’re just so gorgeous, Astor. I feel so lucky.”
“If there’s any doubt about how I feel about you. This bed proves I’m willing to go to hell and back.”
Then he began speaking Spanish, the words flowing sweetly, sounding romantic and dreamy—even though he was probably just saying how much he hated my bed.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“I told you how I feel about you.” He beamed at me. It was another one of those drop-dead gorgeous smiles that would have melted my panties off if I’d been wearing any.
“Are you going to translate for me, please?”
“I’m going to show you.”
How had I ever walked away from him? Right now, this second, I couldn’t fathom how I had had the strength to place my happiness over his. I loved this man more than life itself—and I had been too blinded by ambition to see it…too stuck in my old ways to understand what he meant to me.
When he thrust into me, I arched my back and shuddered beneath his power, never wanting to be parted—as though it were possible to hold back time, hold on to him forever.
We came together violently, enraptured, and during those minutes of him just looking down at me with his hands on either side of my body, I felt as though love was passing between us.
It seemed that we made love for hours, him waking me and taking me again. And then it was my turn to awaken him, scooting down the mattress to suckle his cock until both he and his erection stirred and we went at it again—two lovers unable to keep our hands off each other.
And in those passing moments, all the pain, all the hurt, all the betrayal and fear slipped away and all I was left with was peace. Even the storm was giving up its fight.
Astor turned his head toward the window, frowning. “Did you hear that?” He pushed himself up onto his elbows.
“What?”
“Howling?”
“The wind?”
“It sounded like an animal.” He got up and stared out at the pouring rain.
“Come back to bed.” I tapped the mattress.
“No, listen.” He started to get dressed.
“What is it?”
I reluctantly got dressed, too, and followed him downstairs.
