Chapter 27: Mr Garcia: Chapter 27

Uneasiness fills me.

I’m all for roleplay but…

I swallow a nervous lump in my throat.

He straddles my body and, starting at my toes, he slides up over me. My body begins to relax as his hard dick makes its presence known. His intention unwavering, and he does it again, this time stopping at my chest to straddle my body. I’m trapped beneath his strong thighs.

Who’s he kidding? I fucking love the Devil.

Bring it.

He begins to rub his hardened cock through the oil between my breasts. His rippled abdomen glistens in the light. My hands are tied above my head, and I stare up at him in awe.

No matter how fucked-up Sebastian Garcia is, his touch silences me every single time.

He grabs my face and brings my ear to his mouth. “So, you want to be my whore?”

I pant, my eyes closing.

His hand tightens on my face as he jerks me hard. “Answer me,” he growls.

“Yes,” I whimper.

“You want to use your beautiful, creamy cunt to make me happy?”

Fuck. How is he so filthy?

If dirty talk was an Olympic sport, Sebastian Garcia would be the king of the world.

I nod. “Yes.”

He licks the side of my face. “Here’s how this is going to go,” he whispers as his tongue dances near my ear. Goosebumps scatter up my spine. “You’re going to clench yourself around my cock so hard that you nearly snap it in two.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, on the edge of fear.

“Do you understand me?”

I pant.

“Last warning.”

“Y-yes,” I stammer. “I am. I mean, I will.”

He kneels over my face and rubs the tip of his hard cock over my lips. Pre-ejaculate and oil smear across my face.

His chest is rising and falling as he looks down at me, his dark hair hanging over his face and his muscles glistening with oil. But it’s his eyes that are turning me inside out.

He’s running on instinct, the need to fuck in him is so hard now that nothing else matters.

His filter is gone, along with his restraint.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen something so arousing.

He leans on his elbow beside me, and he kisses me hard as he pushes my top leg up so that it rests by my shoulder. Then, his hand glides down my body, through the oil and over my breasts. Lower… lower.

His thick fingers find that sweet spot between my legs, and he opens my lips as far as they’ll go. I inhale sharply. His eyes hold mine as he stretches me open.

Every time we have sex, he surprises me.

Nothing is ever the same with this man. As soon as I even think about getting comfortable, he ups the ante, taking it to a higher level.

He gives me more.

His tongue dances seductively against mine. I’m writhing beneath him. My eyes can’t stay open, and my arms are beginning to hurt from being tied above my head.

I moan into his mouth, and then his teeth begin to roam along my jaw. He bites my neck.

Fuck.

He takes my nipple in his mouth and bites it hard. I cry out, and his eyes flicker closed.

He’s getting off on my pain.

Huh?

Uneasiness begins to flow through me. This is new territory. It’s a Sebastian Garcia I haven’t met before.

He sucks his way down my body, moving lower and lower until he reaches his goal. He stops and spreads me wide, and he stares at me.

I hold my breath as I look up at the ceiling. What is he doing?

I lift my head to watch him. His body is down on the bed now, parallel to my sex. He slowly drags his fingers through my flesh as he lies on his side, completely preoccupied with his task.

“Seb,” I whisper.

“Don’t come.”

Huh?

His mouth comes over me, and he sucks hard. So hard that it smarts, and I curl my legs around his head to try and escape him.

“Open,” he growls as he slams my legs down to the mattress.

Oh…

His thick tongue glides up and over my sex, and then he lifts my hips and licks my behind, his hungry eyes holding mine.

He wants me there. Jeez.

He swirls his tongue again, and I shudder. Fuck, I swear I’m going to come so hard that I’ll pass out. This is too much.

Then he’s all in as he holds my hips up, deep tongue and whiskers on me. I’m all over his face.

He’s in places that he shouldn’t be and, oh, it’s too good. I shudder again.

“I said don’t fucking come.” He bites my clitoris, and I jump.

“Ouch.”

“I’ll give you fucking ouch in a minute.” He flips me over so that I am on my knees. My wrists sting from the pull of the handcuffs. He shuffles me around and lifts me onto my knees, and then he spreads them apart.

He gets up, and I hear the cupboard door open. Oh no. What is he getting?

My heart begins to hammer. The bed dips again when he kneels behind me.

I drop my head to the mattress and hold my breath, unsure, aroused, and about to have a heart attack.

His tongue flutters over my back entrance, and I close my eyes as heat begins to pump through me. Hmm.

God, this should not feel as good as it does. He really begins to eat me, and I clench, needing a deeper connection. He must be able to sense it, and he slides three of his thick fingers into my sex.

I moan as my body begins to ripple around him. My hips have their own agenda, and I push back onto his face.

This is wrong but so fucking hot.

He slides a finger into my ass, and I moan.

No.

He adds another finger, and my eyes roll back in my head.

“Don’t come,” he growls.

What?

I moan again.

Crack.

He slaps me hard, and my eyes shoot open.

“Don’t you dare fucking come.”

I can’t stop it. I convulse and scream into the mattress.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he threatens.

He puts the tip of his cock at my back entrance and begins to push forward.

“No. Sebastian!” I yell.

He stops, and silence falls between us.

I can hear him panting and gasping for air. He’s struggling as he tries to control his urge to fuck my ass.

Prolonged silence.

What is he doing?

He grips my hipbones, and I know he’s on the edge of control. I wiggle my hips a little to bring him back to the moment. It works. He slaps me hard, and then he bends to lick me again. He moans into me, and hell, has there ever been a hotter sound?

I smile against the mattress. I thought I’d lost him there for a moment.

He gets up, and I frown. What’s he doing now? I hear something tear, and I glance over my shoulder to see him rolling a condom on.

What the hell? He’s really into his role play.

Horror dawns.

Maybe a little too much.

Is this how he fucks his whores? Is this what he does to them?

He slaps me hard again, and I wince in pain. What’s with the slapping?

I’m not sure I like this.

The bed dips and he kneels behind me. He glides his tip over my back entrance and through the lips of my sex.

“Do you know how hot you look from this angle?” He rubs his fingers over my behind. He’s still desperate to have me there.

With one knee on the mattress and one foot on the floor, he slowly pushes himself into me and lets out a deep, guttural moan.

My heart constricts.

He isn’t having sex with me now. In his mind, he’s fucking a stranger.

He’s with a prostitute.

I scrunch my eyes shut. Be careful what you wish for, April.

“Good girl,” he whispers and kisses my back. “Just like that.” He leans over and begins to ride me, his hips working in short, thick pumps. “You love my cock, don’t you, my little dirty girl?”

I close my eyes. Hell, sometimes I wish I didn’t.

He moans.

“Your cunt feels so hot and creamy,” he whispers darkly. “Clench for me, baby. Break it.”

My body releases a deep shudder. I’m going to come again to the sound of his dirty talking.

I’m as fucked up as he is. I’m loving this shit.

He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head back as he slams into me.

I cry out, the air knocked from my lungs.

Then, he’s riding me hard.

The bed is hitting the wall, and the sound of our skin slapping together is echoing around the room.

Ouch. I close my eyes to try and deal with him.

My body begins to burn. His moans are loud and, God, this is full on.

I’ve never been fucked like this before.

Rough… so rough.

He’s a lot of man to take.

I whimper, and he grabs the back of my head and pushes my face into the mattress. With both hands, he manouvers my spine so that my shoulders are down on the bed, handcuffed and completely at his mercy.

He brings his feet to either side of my body and squats over me. His cock is so deep inside, and his hands are pushing my back down with his deep, fast, punishing pumps. My eyes roll back in my head.

Thump, thump, thump goes the bed on the wall.

Oh no, I’m going to come.

He begins to moan, deep and guttural, and I smile into the mattress.

Here he goes. I can feel it building.

He hisses loud and holds himself deep, and then he cries out as he jerks hard.

In the final showdown, he pumps me so hard that I might just break.

I cry out as the last of my resilience is stolen from me.

I slump onto the bed, my eyes filled with tears.

He drops his head to my back, as if collecting himself, and then he reaches up and releases the handcuffs.

Without a word, he gets up and walks into the bathroom.

I pant to myself.

I sit up and put my head into my hands.

What was that?

I get up and walk into the bathroom to see him with both hands leaning on the bathroom vanity. He’s staring at his reflection in the mirror, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

He’s wet with perspiration, his hair and eyes wild.

He looks up, and his cold eyes meet mine. He tears off the condom and throws it in the waste bin, as if disgusted.

What?

I don’t know what’s going on here, but this is fucked up.

I turn to walk out of the bedroom and down the hall. I hear him marching out after me.

“Don’t you leave me!” he cries.

I turn to face him.

He’s panting with crazy fear in his eyes.

“I’m working on it.” He shakes his head. “I’m… I’m working on it,” he stammers. “Don’t leave me. Please,’ he begs, “I swear, I’ll change.”

My face falls.

And I thought my demons were bad.

I go to take him in my arms. “It’s okay, baby,” I whisper. He drops his head to my shoulder, and I hold him.

He’s distraught. Close to tears.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him.

He holds me so tightly, and he seems distraught over it.

“It’s okay,” I whisper against his hair. “It’s okay.”

We stand like this in the hallway for a long time—his head in my neck, and my arms protectively around his shoulders—until we have to move. “Come on, let’s have a shower and wash this oil off,” I whisper up at him.

His haunted eyes hold mine. I lean up and kiss him softly. He screws up his face against mine.

Whatever has him scared must be bad. He’s petrified that I’m leaving.

“Come on.” I lead him down to the bathroom, and we get into the shower. He takes the soap into his hands and begins to wash the oil off my body in silence, leaving me to stare up at him.

I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I’m not pushing him.

Whatever it is, he’ll tell me when he’s ready.

He washes my sex, and I wince. His face falls. “Did I hurt you?” he asks quietly.

“No.”

He clenches his jaw as if stopping himself from saying something.

I kiss his big, beautiful lips. “It’s okay, baby.”

“Nothing about this is okay.”

I hold his face in my hands. He looks so sad and lost as the water beads on his face in the steamy room. We wash each other in silence, and we eventually get out. He dries me off first and then himself, and we get into bed.

I hold him in my arms. Tonight, it’s different. His head is on my chest.

We lie in silence as I run my fingers through his hair. Every now and then, I kiss his forehead in reassurance.

“It wasn’t her fault,” he whispers into the darkness. I frown. “I was too much for her.”

I don’t want to throw him off before he tells me what he’s talking about, so I choose to stay silent.

“In the months leading up to the divorce, I couldn’t…”

Helena. He’s talking about Helena.

I kiss his forehead again, trying to encourage him to open up.

“She was small, I was big. I liked it rough, she…”

“Didn’t?” I murmur.

“She kept pulling me up during sex. In the end, I…” He pauses, and I know that the memory is still painful. “I was so scared that I was going to push her too far that I couldn’t turn my mind off.” He kisses my breast, and I hold him tightly.

“She wanted vanilla. I needed chocolate.”

I exhale as the jigsaw puzzle finally falls into place.

“You stopped having sex with her,” I whisper.

“I was just trying to get my head around it. Every time we would have sex, I couldn’t come. I was too controlled—too in my head. In the end, I didn’t even want to go there. It was too stressful for me. I’d have anxiety for the next two days, worrying that I’d been too rough with her.”

I hold him tightly. “Baby,” I whisper.

He blames himself.

“She started to think I didn’t find her attractive anymore.”

“Did you?’

“Of course, I did. I loved her.”

My heart constricts. Ouch.

“We fought.”

I kiss his temple as I brush the hair back from his forehead.

“I started going away for work. I thought the distance would make us better.”

“Did it?”

“She thought I wanted to get away from her—that I didn’t want sex because I was seeing someone else.”

My heart drops. I already know how this story ends.

He stays silent for a long time, lost in his own thoughts. “In the end it turned out our gardener had the vanilla she needed.”

That bitch.

“This is why you protect her… because you feel responsible?”

“She was hurt.”

“She went to another man, Sebastian.”

“Because I couldn’t—”

“Because she couldn’t,” I cut him off.

He exhales heavily.

“Is that why you like call girls? Because you know they can take it rough? Because you know that there is no chance you can hurt them?”

He stays silent, and I know that it is.

I think for a moment, and then I smile. “Maybe this was God’s way of saving you for me.”

I feel him smile against my chest. “My sweet coffee girl who fucks like the sexiest whore I ever met.”

I giggle. “You know I can’t regret how we met, not even for a moment because I don’t believe if we had stayed together back then, we would have worked out.”

He leans up onto his elbow. “What about now?”

“I’ve been looking for a man to deliver me straight up chocolate fudge all my life.”

He chuckles, and then falls serious. “I’m not too much for you?”

“You’re perfect for me,” I whisper as I kiss him. ‘I always knew something was missing, Seb, and it wasn’t until I slept with you that I found out what it was. I need you like this, I need this darker form of love making…more than anything.” He screws up his face against my lips. “I love you. Promise me you’ll never leave.”

“I promise.” My heart somersaults. His words are so heartfelt. He really does love me. I can feel it pouring out of him.

This poor, beautiful man has been to hell and back, all because he was too sexual for his prim and proper adulterous wife.

“I do have one bone to pick with you, though,” I say.

“What’s that?”

“That sex doll has got to go.”

His mouth falls open in fake horror. “Belinda? Spence bought me her. She’s a Vero 5000.”

I smirk at her name.

“Her pussy has twenty-four settings.” He raises his brows to accentuate his point.

I laugh out loud, and he does, too. “I’m not sharing you with a twenty-four-setting pussy.”

He kisses me softly.

“But the big, blue dildo… he can stay.” I smile against his lips.

“Yeah, no. That fucker’s gone.”

“I’ve got to go, babe.” I take April in my arms and hold her tightly. God, I love this woman. I hug her harder.

“Good luck, today.”

I exhale heavily. Nerves are coursing through my veins. “Thanks. It’s being announced at 9:00 a.m.”

“You’re going to win the vote.” She smiles as she rearranges my collar. “I can feel it in my waters.”

“If I don’t, it’s a good excuse to quit politics.”

“Then you can be my full-time sex slave.” She smiles up at me.

“I’m already your full-time sex slave.” I pump her with my hips.

“We’ll go out and celebrate when you get home, regardless of the outcome.” She smiles.

“Okay.”

I kiss her and make my way out to my car. It feels so weird. Tonight, I’ll return to the house either as the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom or completely retired from politics. I’ve already made the call. If I’m not voted in, then I’m walking away.

We sit in the boardroom as the votes are read out. My mind is heavily on Theodore today.

Where is he now? Did he find the peace he was looking for?

When did I last speak to him? I discreetly take my phone out of my pocket and put it under the table on my lap. I go through my call register and scroll back as I search for his name. I’m scrolling and scrolling when something rolls past. I frown, stop, and scroll back up.

Huh.

Outgoing call: April 4th 8 minutes Helena

When did I call Helena?

What?

I look at the date and frown. When was that? Did I butt-dial her by accident or something?

I think back to the date. Why does that sound familiar?

I do the math.

My heart drops.

That’s the night I was drugged.

My heart begins to hammer in my chest and the room spins. I don’t remember anything about this.

Why the hell did I call Helena? And what the fuck did we talk about for eight minutes?

the speakerannounces.“The next Prime Minister of The United Kingdom is Sebastian Garcia,”

I glance up to the sound of applause, completely rattled. The room is in a standing ovation. I stand and fake a smile. “Thank you.”

What did I talk to Helena about?

Fuck.