Page 18 of Pain and Pleasure

Esmeralda

We'rein his stone bath, a few hours after we woke up and fucked right back to sleep.

When I awoke again, he ate me until I saw stars and then carried me to his bathroom. Now we sit in his large stone tub, bodies pressed together as the water warms us.

My head is against his chest and he's running a wet washcloth up and down my legs, cleaning me thoroughly. I find that I like him caring for me a lot more than I care to admit. It makes me feel cherished, adored. Things that I find I may enjoy more than the ever-present desire that he makes me feel.

It's silent, the morning stretching calmly around us. I decide to test my theory, the one I have about us using arguing or fucking as our main source of communication.

"So Oscar, he's your brother…"

The washcloth freezes on my leg, I feel a tensing in his arms, but it's both small and fleeting. He chuckles at me.

"That's not a question. It's a sentence that I know has more parts to it, so continue."

I bite my lip, choosing my next words carefully. I don't want to ruin this peaceful moment between us, this common ground that we've somehow fallen on and stabilized ourselves within.

"Why does he try to out-man you? Has it always been a pissing contest between the two of you?" I've probably struck a nerve, but he surprises me as he chuckles again.

"You're too bright, pequeña. Too intuitive for your own good."

He drags the washcloth from my legs to my breasts, circling the swells and making my hips raise in response. He's literally fucked all of the energy out of me, but he always finds a way to renew it with his touch once more.

"It's been a pissing contest since my birth. My brother is a well-educated man, frightening and determined in his own right, much like our father."

He pauses for a moment, as if to reflect on something before continuing.

"But he's hot headed and impulsive, two traits that do not go hand in hand with our business. It's why I've taken over the majority of our ties since my father's passing."

I want to dive deeper into Oscar and his relationship, but I decide not to. The mentioning of both his brother and his father changes his demeanor and it's easy to pick up on. The slightest tick of his jaw or tensing of his muscles let me know whether the conversation will be going in a good direction or not. And in regards to those two men in his life, all physical movements point to a not so good direction. So I divert.

"When I went into your room the first time, I noticed there was a picture of you and a woman standing together. Who is that?"

I try not to sound jealous, but I can't help it. He notices and smooths my hair back, biting at my exposed earlobe and causing a yelp to fall from my lips.

"That's my younger sister, Gabriela. She's back at our family estate in Columbia, probably maxing out her credit cards as we speak."

He rubs a frustrated hand across his face and it makes me smile. I can tell she's a hellion who gives him trouble. It makes me like her even though I don't know her.

"And your mother...is she…"

"Still alive? Yes. Though since my father passed, she travels a lot. We really only see her once a year, twice if she decides to visit for the holidays."

I turn and look into his eyes, appreciating him sharing so much with me even though most could chalk this conversation up to small talk. With him, I gave him an inch and he took a mile. It's enough to keep me quiet, my lips trailing over his bicep as his arms wrap around my breasts, pulling me against his hard cock and ceasing all conversation once more.

* * *

It's late afternoon on Monday and I sign off from the last of my online classes for the day, closing my laptop in exhaustion. A knock sounds at my door and I perk up, eager to see if it's Dante, but falling short when it's my mother.

I shouldn't get excited to see this man, but I can't help it. Every thought of him quickens my pulse and makes those stupid butterflies come back into my stomach, twisting me in knots from the inside out. He's an addiction, this man. An addiction that I worry I'll never be rid of, an addiction that I know I'll never admit that I have.

My mom walks into my room, smiling at me as she sits next to me on my bed.

"How was your first day of classes?" she asks. I realized that this is the first time my mother's ever asked me about school.

"Stressful, but day one of my last semester is down." I smile at her, trying to offer her some kindness, maybe a peace offering after the years of war we've endured with one another.

She nods and smiles awkwardly, sitting on my bed in silence as if she doesn't know what to say next. I feel sorry for her almost. She's been facing her demons with a sober mind for almost a month now, and it must be one of the hardest things she's ever had to do besides raising a child that she didn't want. Besides living with the constant reminder of her abuse.

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