The Taste of Revenge: Chapter 23

It’s her voice that I hear first—that sweet voice that soothed and consoled me when everything came crashing down.

My feet move, my body drawn to the sound that has the ultimate power over me.

I walk and walk, lulled by the security I find in her soft and melodious tone.

Until I stop.

I see her in the distance. Her body half turned to me, she’s gazing at me with confusion in her eyes. Her features are swathed in darkness and I can barely make out what she looks like.

But I know her.

I know her heart, and I can see deep into her soul. That’s all that matters. Her looks are inconsequential as I know that her inner beauty shines so brightly it has the power to feed me like nothing else—revitalize me when I’m halfway to the grave and infuse power in my limbs when my strength leaves me.

A smile plays at her lips as she spots me, and she turns—slowly.

I don’t even think as I start into a sprint, running to her, needing to have the physical confirmation that she is with me and this isn’t a mirage.

My body makes contact with hers. Skin against skin as a jolt travels through my body at the divine feeling of being so close to her. As I wrap my arms around her form, feeling her warmth, a content sigh escapes me.

This is heaven.

The scene soon shifts, and before I can blink, I find myself on a bed, naked and looming over her bare skin. My lips skim over the surface of her smooth stomach, laying soft kisses as I trail my way down. Her small whimpers of encouragement are everything I need to make sure I’m doing everything right.

I dig my fingers into the plush skin of her hips, feeling her soft flesh molding to my digits. Holding tightly onto her, I let my tongue peek out as I lick my initial into her skin, searing my possession of her.

‘You’re mine,’ I whisper among peppered kisses, the need to own her growing to an unfulfilled crescendo—make her mine in a way that no one would dare contest.

‘Yes,’ her breathy voice goes straight to my cock as she urges me lower, her fingers in my hair as she guides me to her core.

Getting hold of her panties, I tug them down, easily slipping them off her legs.

It’s only when I have her bared before me, her musky scent invading my nostrils, that I have to wonder how I’ve lived so far, my entire life flashing before my eyes and showing me my bleak existence before her.

I lay a chaste kiss to the top of her mound before going lower, parting her lips with my tongue for the first taste of her.

‘Fuck,’ a low groan escapes me. ‘Fucking hell,’ I curse as I dive in, lapping at her like a madman.

Her sounds are my guide as I learn her pleasure, the goal of her climax spurring me forward to give it my best.

It’s only when she comes with my name on her tongue while mine is still filled with the flavor of that I go up for air, gliding up her body and reaching for a kiss.

‘Raf,’ she whispers as she turns her eyes on me—those hazel eyes that have no equal in this world.

Her features are brought into focus, a bright new clarity entering my mind as I peruse every inch of her.

‘Noelle,’ her name is wrenched from my lips as I stare into her more than perfect face—that work of art that’s become right at home haunting my dreams and making me slowly die with unreleased tension.

She has a dreamy look on her face, her entire skin glistening with sweat from the exertion, her beauty only enhanced by the look of pure ecstasy on her face. She’s glowing from her pleasure, her eyes hooded as she gazes at me, her fingers threaded through my hair as she caresses me gently.

‘Come to me,’ she urges and I’m helpless to deny her.

I’m helpless to do anything but lean in, my lips on hers in a culmination of loss.

Wounding her arms around my neck, she draws me in an intoxicating embrace, my dick sliding against her wet pussy lips, her moans swallowed by my mouth as I tease her. Her warmth engulfs me, her arousal dripping and coating my entire shaft as she arches her back, shifting her hips to position me at her entrance.

There’s only sensation at this point—pure, unadulterated sensation. I feel her everywhere, my mouth devouring her whole…

As if reaching for air, I gasp, my eyes snapping open as the previous vision dispels from my mind. Panting, I stare at the ceiling as I squirm against the heavy chains that hold me to my bed, relief pouring out of me at the fact that it had been just a dream.

I haven’t dishonored Lucero. I haven’t tainted her memory by touching .

I shouldn’t want her. I shouldn’t want to do anything with her. Yet the more I fight this attraction, the more potent it becomes.

There are no truer words, as evidenced by my current dilemma. I fail to grasp this maddening dichotomy—the way my body yearns for her, while my mind abhors her. But no journey is entirely smooth, and it seems my own road to vengeance will be pebbled with temptation.

I’ve survived worse though, and if my time in captivity has taught me anything, it’s that there’s an infinite quality to human will. One that is only discovered through sheer hardship.

Yet the allure of her proximity grows more day by day, only augmented by the fact that she would probably welcome me into her body, her pussy drenched for me to mercilessly shove my cock inside of her in a brutal assault.

Because I wouldn’t be gentle with her.

Despite the soft nature of my wet dream—much as it makes my lips purse in frustration—I know I would be anything but gentle with her.

I’d take her hard and fast, if only to exorcize her from my mind and my body and the fact that she’s become close to an elusive obsession.

I grit my teeth as anger slowly seeps in.

Why does my dick have to fucking burst at the thought of her?

The fact that I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to another woman only makes my anger mount, leaving me even more frustrated as my cock strains against the plane of my stomach, so fucking hard and nearly ready to pop.

And as my thoughts continue to stray to her plump lips, visions of her on her knees and choking on my cock invading my mind, I can’t help the small tremors that overtake me, my entire body spasming as I thrash against my holds, my dick twitching as spurts of cum land on my stomach.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ I curse out loud as I manage to free myself from my chains.

Even the euphoria of my orgasm is not enough to chase the clouds that settle over me. Maybe I would be able to thrust this out of my mind if this had been an isolated incident borne out of my drug induced state. But even my clear mind has trouble keeping her out of it.

She’s become a restless phantasm in my head. Thoughts of her plague me every waking moment of the day, my skin prickling with anticipation to see her.

In the beginning I’d told myself it was purely my need to gloat at her misery. But that had soon shifted. And it seems that my dick can’t take a fucking clue when it comes to her.

Sure, I’m still relishing her misery, but with a raging erection every time she’s in the vicinity.

In a sudden moment of clarity, I’m forced to accept that her plan to seduce me might have worked—at least on my body. She flaunts herself in front of me so often, showing enough skin to make me intrigued, but barely enough to keep me guessing.

My jaw clenches as I realize I may have fallen into her trap.

Oh, she’s good. I’ll give her that. She’s an experienced seductress and her mix of sophistication and contrived innocence had certainly hooked me, making me desire that duality in her while making me question myself and my initial motives for hating her. Her strategy is nothing short of impressive—advance and retreat, coming across as hot and cold until she sinks her claws into me.

And sunk them she has.

The anger becomes even more potent as I realize I’m likely not the first man she’s used those wiles of hers on. After all, she must have perfected her seduction technique somehow. And awakens something scary inside of me.

‘Damn it all to hell,’ I mutter as cold water from the shower pours down on me—all in an attempt to squash this uncharacteristic and insane thirst I feel for her.

In a moment of weakness, I’m left to wonder if I should maybe just give in—fuck her once and get her out of my system. At least then I won’t be so curious about her flavor, the feel of her pussy wrapped around me, or the taste of her full submission as I fuck the brat out of her. Maybe that could work.

But I know I would ultimately never forgive myself for being so weak as to fall prey to her charms. And that annoys me even more.

Because I’ll be damned if I do and I’ll be damned if I don’t.

‘You’re scowling,’ Carlos notes hours later. Freshly showered and dressed, the hallucination has continued to bother me throughout the day, the simulated realism of it only making me yearn for the real thing more.

And is a problem.

I can’t act on this irrational desire. To do so would be a betrayal to myself, and most of all a betrayal to Lucero.

How could I contemplate touching the person who’d made her life miserable with the same gentleness I should have touched ? How could I even fathom engaging in the act of ultimate intimacy with someone so contemptible? With someone for whom I only feel distaste—raw anger that consumes me from the inside and threatens to erupt to the surface.

Already, I feel myself getting increasingly unsettled at the thought of Noelle, so I attempt to shove it out of my mind.

‘It’s nothing,’ I mumble under my breath, not in the mood to broach the subject with Carlos.

‘I don’t think it is,’ he tsks at me, leaning back and watching me closely. ‘You’ve been with DeVille for almost two months now. Granted, we’ve made some progress with the weapons and the market has welcomed us with open arms. But other than that?’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re supposed to focus on your brother, not get married.’

‘He’s been MIA for weeks. If anything, I’d say he’s scared,’ I chuckle. ‘He must have heard I’ve joined hands with DeVille and is expecting the worst,’ I deflect.

‘That doesn’t explain why you’ve become so fixated on that girl. I get that you want to get revenge for what happened at the , but is this really the right way? Marrying her?’ He scoffs at me.

‘Carlos is right. It’s a bit too drastic, wouldn’t you say?’ Anita chimes in, carrying a bowl of cereal with her.

‘Not you too,’ I groan.

It’s not the first time that Carlos has questioned me on my plans with Noelle. Now to have Anita too…

‘I have it all under control,’ I roll my eyes at her.

‘I don’t think you do,’ Carlos shoots back, openly challenging me. ‘Ever since you’ve met her, you’ve virtually put your plan with Michele on a black-burn.’

‘That’s not true,’ I protest.

‘Yes it is. You’re practically obsessed with the girl. Every time I see you, it’s always the same thing.

Anita jokes as she repeats my words from before. ‘

she laughs. ‘Seriously, Raf, you haven’t talked about anything else her.’

‘Well, it’s an ongoing plan,’ I mumble, peeved at being put on the spot.

‘No. The ongoing plan is to end your brother and Ortega. And in the process get rid of the bounties on our heads,’ Carlos adds drily.

‘This was an add-on.’

I should have expected they wouldn’t understand what this means to me—the chance to pay her back for everything.

Maybe I a little obsessed, but that’s only because she’s the only remaining link to the past that I have. One that I need to firmly exorcize from my life—and to a satisfying degree—before I can move on.

Yes, Michele is my primary focus. But Noelle’s sudden reappearance in my life has been nothing short of fortuitous. I’m not about to throw away the chance of a lifetime.

‘An add-on that took over your whole focus.’

‘It’s only until I become her legal guardian,’ I bring my fingers to my temples, massaging them. ‘After that, I’ll make sure she’s committed, and she won’t bother us again.’

‘Uhum, if you say so,’ Anita chuckles, and Carlos shakes his head at me.

‘Are you sure it’s not something…more?’ he asks tentatively.

‘Something more?’ I frown.

‘That this you have going on isn’t just an excuse.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘She’s a very beautiful woman, Raf,’ Carlos notes, and that one sentence has me curling my hands into fists. My gaze cold, I narrow my eyes at him.

‘I didn’t realize you were checking her out,’ I add sarcastically.

‘And is my cue to remove myself from this situation,’ Anita declares in a sing-song voice. ‘I feel bad for you,’ she turns to me before leaving, giving me a pitiful look. ‘Poor, poor thing,’ she shakes her head, the corners of her mouth quirking up.

Watching her retreating figure, I blink in confusion.

Carlos, too, is sporting an amused look on his face, and it seems that everyone is in on a hidden joke.

‘What was that all about?’ I frown.

‘Raf,’ Carlos starts in that fatherly tone of his. ‘The fact that you don’t understand is the issue.’ A smile pulls at his lips. ‘Fine,’ he nods as he pats me on the back. ‘Go ahead with your revenge and marry the girl. I’m sure the plan will work wonderfully.’

‘It will,’ I reply with conviction. ‘I’ll own her and I’ll be able to do whatever I want with her.’

His features twitch with amusement.

‘Indeed,’ he chuckles.

He’s about to say something else when Panchito bursts through the room, a tablet in his hand and a broad smile on his face.

‘I got it!’ He yells enthusiastically.

‘You got what?’

‘Michele. I managed to find some traces of him.’ He says and my focus shifts immediately.

‘Go on,’ I nod at him.

‘He’s been smart about covering his traces. I don’t know if he goes out much besides this but…’

‘Get to the point, Panchito,’ I tell him impatiently.

‘These were taken at a few private recitals over the last month. I came across one by coincidence, and I couldn’t help but notice this,’ he points to a figure in the back corner.

He’s dressed in a black tux, a glass of champagne in his hand as he’s gazing attentively at the stage. His face is a little blurry given that he’s in the back of the room.

‘Since you gave me a profile of Michele, I thought I’d try some underground art auctions or musical events, since,’ he pauses, turning to me, ‘you mentioned he showed some artistic inclination in his youth.’

‘He did,’ I nod. ‘He was always in his own world, often drawing or listening to recordings of classical concerts. Our father never approved of either, since he deemed them unmanly,’ I purse my lips, since that rule had applied to me too.

I refrain from mentioning that his interest in classical music may have started because of my mother. Since young, she would always play for me, the act giving her joy. But she’d never let Michele take part in our little tete-a-tete. In my mother’s words, he’d been an interloper. He would, however, find ways to listen to her play. Although curiosity had been piqued in the beginning because he’d been banned from it, it had later turned into a full-on hobby.

But that had been a lifetime ago and during a period where I’d felt something akin to pity for Michele. After all, he had been ostracized by his own family. Still, nothing excuses what he turned into.

‘I didn’t know for sure if this is him, but I ran some simulations and everything from stature to body language matches. I’m pretty positive it was him.’

‘Good job,’ I say appreciatively, my eyes still on the picture.

‘This was last month. But this,’ he swipes his finger on the screen, ‘is from last week,’ he pulls up another picture.

This one is more clear, and I can see my brother’s features better. He hasn’t changed—not much anyway. There’s still a glaring emptiness in his eyes, as if he’s truly soulless.

‘So he’s been attending private events,’ Carlos notes. ‘It’s not much, but it’s something.’

‘No,’ my lips pull up in a twisted smile. ‘It’s everything, because I have an inkling of a plan,’ I say as I start explaining my idea.

Who said I couldn’t shoot two birds with one stone?

‘I’m not sure what you want me to say, Raf,’ Cisco raises a brow as he leans in his chair. ‘Your plan is sound, and I appreciate all the details you’ve outlined,’ he slaps the document I’d brought on the table. ‘But this is my sister we’re talking about.’

‘And this is my brother,’ I counter. ‘We’ve been tracking his movements for a long time already, and you’ve seen how rare his public appearances are. For Fuck’s sake, he has a body double that he sends out to distract people.’

‘Indeed, your brother has a strange case of paranoia. I won’t deny that. But what if my sister gets hurt?’

I don’t for one second think that Cisco truly cares about his sister getting hurt. After all, if he did, he wouldn’t have given her to me.

No, this isn’t about that.

He wants to ascertain my intentions and to play the devil’s advocate.

‘She won’t. I’ll personally see that she won’t,’ I give him my charming smile.

‘Then I’ll trust you on this,’ he smirks. ‘Especially with how thorough you’ve been,’ he whistles. ‘I must say that I’m impressed.’

‘The proper channels have already been informed, and I’ve set an alias for her and a fake biography. Anyone looking her up on the internet would find only vague information that’s bound to make Michele even more interested.’

‘You’re sure he’ll bite?’ Cisco inquires. ‘It’s just that your brother doesn’t come across as…a man of culture. A psychotic mess of paranoia and misplaced grandiosity, yes. But a cultured man?’ He shakes his head.

‘He’s always been passionate about the beaux arts. But he was never allowed to show an interest when my parents lived. Even now, as you can see, everything he does is covertly. My IT guy also managed to trace some art transactions to him. It’s not something he advertises, which suggests it means a lot to him.’

‘Your brother would be an interesting man,’ Cisco notes, ‘if not for being the enemy.’

‘You know, there was a time I felt sorry for him. I know what he had to go through and why he is the way he is.’

Cisco looks at me expectantly, but I don’t expand on that.

‘There was a time I thought he could be saved. But not anymore. He made his choices. And now I make mine.’

‘Indeed,’ he nods, lighting a cigarette. ‘Besides, you’re infinitely easier to work with,’ he gives me a wolfish smile, implying that in the scheme of things, he wouldn’t really care which side he’d be on—mine or Michele’s. But only one of us is willing to give him what he wants, and is the deciding factor.

Most of the time I don’t know whether to admire Cisco or revile him for the way he does business. One thing is for sure, though. He’s not someone you’d want as your enemy.

‘Then it’s settled. I’ll have Panchito set everything up digitally. I will only need your help in finding a venue and inviting other influential people to throw Michele off our scent.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll do that. Now on how to convince Noelle…’

We spend the entire afternoon planning, and as we discuss the various ways in which we’d get Noelle to agree to the plan, I can’t help but feel a sliver of guilt.

I’d sketched out the plan in a moment of anger and I’d been more than convinced that this would be the way to get rid of both thorns in my side.

But is it truly right?

Subjecting Noelle to my brother might just be the worst type of punishment I could ever think for her.

As the hour grows late, I realize I can’t sleep, these thoughts plaguing me, doubts entering my mind when I should be nothing but secure in my goal.

So my feet take me to her room, surreptitiously opening the door to find her fast asleep.

Propping myself on a nearby chair, I bring my hand to my chin as I simply study her.

She looks so innocent in her sleep, huddled between those silky sheets. Her hair is draped over her bare shoulders, her nightgown a light piece of fabric that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

But as much as I look at her, trying to decipher my lingering obsession with her, I can’t.

Carlos was right.

Regardless of my grudge against her for her role in my misfortunes at the , I should have never reacted this strongly to her. After all, she’s just one of on my list of tormentors.

Yet something is different.

Instead of focusing on my brother, who’s been the bane of my existence for so long, I’ve funneled all my attention into Someone who, in the grand scheme of things, isn’t even that important.

Yet it’s someone I can’t seem to stop thinking about.

Why am I obsessing over her day and night?

The decision to kill her should be a simple one, my mission notwithstanding. Yet the thought of her , of her lips turning purple and her face losing its vitality unnerves me. Something inside of me is stopping me from fully hating her and I cannot comprehend what.

I have the facts. I what I witnessed and endured just as I know what Lucero told me. At the same time, things don’t add up.

I may have known her only for a brief period of time, but she doesn’t come across as a conniving bitch. If anything, there’s an artless innocence about her, a vulnerability that makes me ache with want.

She makes me want to hug her and gut her at the same time, and that’s my conundrum.

She moves, her sheet sliding down her abdomen, her tits in full view through the flimsy material of her gown. Full and a size too big for her small frame, they are enough to lead a saint to sin. Certainly enough for me to fantasize about them.

At once, a wave of lust hits me as my eyes zero in on her erect nipples, the pink of her areola such a delectable shade, made for licking, sucking and biting.

A silent groan escapes me as I feel all the blood rush to my cock at the thought of her tits in my mouth, and my tongue on her flesh as I bring her to the edge only to leave her unfulfilled—the only thing the little tease deserves.

I swallow hard, the taste of her on my tongue palpable.

Sweet. She’d taste so sweet. Of that I have no doubt.

It doesn’t matter that she’s a facetious bitch.

At this moment, all that matters is how my mind perceives her. I’m like a drunk man as I let my eyes feast on her, drinking her in until my imagination can get to work and fill in the gaps.

A throaty sound escapes her and I palm my cock through my pants, that one sound my undoing.

It’s madness. There’s no other way to describe my addled brain. Because no one in their right mind would lust so hard after the person they’re supposed to hate—that they .

But I can’t stop myself.

I’m like a fucking slave to my baser instincts.

All my life I’ve seen men be led around by their cocks and I’d taken pride in being different—in leading a life of moderation.

But when I look at her, there’s no moderation, just pure hedonistic abandon as I want nothing more than to sink into her warm depths.

My errant hand lowers the zipper of my pants and I take my cock out, stroking myself from base to tip at the sight of her luscious body and the wonders it contains. Her sweet pussy calls to me, and as I close my eyes, her scent and taste threaten to drive me crazy.

Because I’ve tasted her.

I tasted her when she had no idea. Dipping my finger in her tight pussy and not getting a taste would have been blasphemy. In the cover of darkness, taking advantage of her unawareness, I’d put that finger in my mouth and I’d sucked it clean.

Even now the memory threatens to make me fall apart—both from the pleasure of it and the pain. I’d lost control of myself. I’d lost all traces of rationality as I’d given in to the animal within me.

Not too long ago I’d had my cock positioned right at her hole, her heat beckoning and hypnotizing me. I have to admit that wrenching myself away from her had been the hardest thing I’d ever done.

And that’s what shocks me the most.

I don’t feel like myself anymore. She put a fucking spell on me that I can’t seem to escape.

She’s fidgety in her sleep, but the more she moves, the more she graces me with a full view of her exposed flesh.

I’m so fucking hard I’m almost bursting, and it won’t take much more for me to come. My fist works my length as I continue to use her for my most obscene fantasies.

She turns on her side, her face towards me as her mouth opens on a low whimper.

My mind is immediately at work, conjuring images of her on her knees, those full lips of hers wrapped around my cock as she sucks me like the born seductress she is.

Fuck but she would obliterate me. Of that, I have no doubt.

The thought of her warm, wet mouth is enough to make me leak, and a few more strokes later I’m coming in thick spurts, the power of the orgasm making me see stars.

Everything is short lived. As the euphoria wears off, I’m left with a bitter taste in my mouth and a strong sense of revulsion.

With a silent curse, I stand up, tucking myself in my pants and condemning myself for my weakness.

I shouldn’t want her. I shouldn’t want .

Yet Noelle possesses something that no other woman I met before or after Lucero ever did.

The ability to shake me to my core.

Lucero had been my spiritual comfort, the other half of my soul, but there had always been a physical barrier between us.

With Noelle, there’s none. She’s flesh and blood. She’s there for me to touch and feel.

Maybe if my relationship with Lucero had been or occurred in different circumstances, I wouldn’t react so strongly to Noelle.

Maybe.

As I spare her one last glance before I leave the room, it’s to see her eyes wide open, staring at me unflinchingly.

I let my lips curl into an unaffected smirk, giving her a mock salute before leaving the room.