Page 33 of Revenge
I open my mouth to him, slide my tongue between his lips. My timid attempt awakens him, and he drops the towel, cradling the back of my head to kiss me deeply. He gives me teeth and tongue and bruising force. Flames lick between my legs, up my center, burning down my resistance. My resolve.
Antonio eases away. “Will you sing for me, beautiful?” His voice is a coaxing soft rumble. It’s a tone I haven’t heard from him before, and it makes me feel safe and special. Held.
“Yes.” The syllable comes easily.
I don’t sing for people because my mother didn’t like it, but I do know I’m decent. My college professors often gave me the solos in chorus, and I even got the lead in the musical Gigi once. I didn’t even tell my parents I was performing, and I used my middle name for the program, so it wouldn’t get back to the society pages in New York.
Antonio strokes the side of my cheek with his thumb. I’m naked, but his eyes stay on my face. We remain that way, staring into each other’s eyes. I’m sure some exchange of energy is happening, but I don’t know what it means. All I know is my heart’s pounding, and my lips tingle and buzz from the kiss.
Antonio gently releases me. “You’d better put on your ugliest pajamas, or I might not be able to hold up my end of our bargain.”
A puff of surprised laughter comes from my lips. A buoyancy expands in my chest for the first time since my wedding day. No–that’s not true–for the first time since I went off to college. That brief period of time when I had some small freedom. But this is different. This is a warm space of lightness and possibility. Of safety and being held.
How ironic that being forced to marry a stranger bent on revenge would create this sense of freedom.
As I take the reprieve he’s offered me and turn away to put on a nightgown and panties, I contemplate it.
It’s not real freedom.
It must be just the sense of nothing left to lose.
Except that doesn’t feel true, either. Because Antonio just gave me a gift, and it’s not not the reprieve from sex, which I may have actually given him tonight. It’s something else.
A feeling I want to keep.
A new sense of myself–of what I could be outside the boundaries my parents set for me. Of who I am apart from them.
Maybe who I am with Antonio.
I brace against that thought, expecting to feel it thud like my head against the wall, but nothing hits. In fact, the thought only makes me feel lighter.
I cast a nervous glance at my new husband, who has undressed to his boxer shorts and is heading into the bathroom.
For the first time in forever, I don’t know what my future holds.
For the first time in forever, I’m actually excited to find out…
Chapter Seven
Antonio
I wake in the morning when Dahlia makes a tiny adjustment to her position.
She’s curled in a ball with her back to me, pretending to still be asleep.
I barely made it through the night without pinning my wife down on the mattress, stripping her of the flimsy nightgown she wore to bed, and stroking every inch of her body. I'm dying to apply my tongue between her legs again and watch her come undone. Nudge those knees apart and find out what it feels like to sink into that wet heat to claim what’s mine.
I barely slept, but I wasn’t willing to leave my honeymoon bed and sleep elsewhere.
Last night when I heard Dahlia sing, something changed for me. She became more real. I saw the vulnerability of a girl with a passion she hasn’t been permitted to pursue. I was knocked over by an unfathomable desire to make every dream she’s ever had come true.
But why not? She’s my wife. Shouldn’t I take care of what belongs to me?
My revenge is already complete. The wedding and the signing over of King Yacht Company was an ending.
What I do with my bride is not part of that.
No, what I–we–have now is a beginning.