Antonio noticed three identical babies held by members of the Torres household as they all gathered close to see what was happening. The men hurried up and took their positions and, as the family watched from the doorway and on the steps, an elegant black woman in an outrageously colored ceremonial African tribal gown stepped out of the car. The cameras flashed and clicked as she walked gracefully up the steps, head held regally high. When she was within five feet of the door she stopped, and held out a hand towards the stunned woman in the doorway. “My beloved daughter, my sweet Lissa, I’m so happy to see you at last.”
The anxious man waved his hand abruptly. “That’s enough, get her back to the car. No one says another word until I get these releases signed.”
Obediently, the graceful woman turned around and returned to the car. Antonio saw an elegant and regal looking black man welcome her back inside. Then he noticed the diplomatic flags waving on the sides of the car. What country were they from? Antonio couldn’t guess. Somewhere in Africa, obviously. Who was this woman and what the hell was going on?
After Joan left the AA meeting a wave of depression washed over her. She wanted to get home and be with the triplets, they always could cheer her up. She didn’t want to think about Antonio Ferrero.
When she came around the corner to the house, she stopped in her tracks. There was something going on at the house – a police car and a television stand were parked close by, and a bunch of people were aiming cameras at the front door. Had something happened to Lissa, or Julio, or one of the babies? She started to run to the house, her heart pounding with fear. She saw her sister’s face, ashen and tearful. “Oh, no, what’s happened?” she said to herself as she pounded her arms to get there quicker. A man stepped in front of her, blocking her path, and she ran right into him.
“Hey!” she said, and tried to push him out of the way. “Let me go!”
“No. We’re in the middle of a shot,” he said in English with a strong British accent.
Joan shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“See that lady getting out of the car? That’s Annabelle Edwards. She was thought to be dead, but was found living in a convent in Africa with no memories. Now that she remembers, she’s meeting her girls for the first time. This is the money shot – the big, surprise – so I’m not going to let you mess it up.”
Joan had stopped listening to the idiot after ‘they found her living in a convent in Africa’, gaping at the woman climbing out of the car. She didn’t know whether to feel joy or rage so she felt both, in equal measure. She stood there, panting with her hands on her knees, watching through unbelieving bleary eyes as her mother made her ascent up the steps like some kind of movie queen.
She watched, unable to speak, unable to move, and when the shot ended, and the stage manager told her to walk back down, as if he expected her to do another take.
Before her mother could go back inside the car, Joan pushed past the man, and stormed towards her’ mother, walking straight into the shot. “Are you happy with your entrance, Mother,” she said, spitting out the words. “Did you get enough attention? Is the world seeing how special you are?” The rage in her heart overpowered the gratitude of seeing her mother alive. It had been a hoax, all along. A mean, horrible hoax. Her mother had run off, to avoid being there for her when she’d needed her most. And now she wanted to profit from her behavior?
Well, that wasn’t going to work because Joan wasn’t interested in participating in her latest production.
“I wish you’d stayed buried in the ocean,” she screamed.
She turned, and raced away from the house, her heart breaking with every step.
ANTONIO RECOGNIZED Joan the moment she raised her voice. At first he was startled to see her, then he wanted to hide. He spotted one of the babies and had a flash of understanding as he recognized the boy. He’d seen that kid before – that kid had pulled his hair. The woman he’d helped, the one the mother had called Lissa, was sobbing. “Give me Hunter,” she said, “and somebody go after Joan, oh my God!”
“I’ll do it,” Antonio said bravely. There was no one else for the job, just a bunch of old ladies and a woman who apparently was the mother of triplets. Julio wasn’t around, so at the moment he was the man of the house. He had offered to help out. He ran around in the direction she’d gone and didn’t see her, but spotted his car and decided to take it. When he found her she’d have a place to get out of the open, a place where they could talk.
When he came upon her she was crying, but was walking instead of running. “Hey, Joan,” he said when his window rolled down, “Rough day? Can I give you a lift?” To his surprise she didn’t hesitate – she got in his car and sat there like a stone.
“Hey, I’m sorry, that was a pretty mean thing for her to do. I remember you told me that your mother could be a pill, I guess you weren’t kidding.”
“Oh, Antonio,” she said, and burst into tears.
He put on the break and leaned over, holding her until the crying stopped. When Joan had pulled herself together, he said. “You want to go back or to my place?” he waggled his eyebrows. She laughed.
“Your place, but only until I can get my mind wrapped around what just happened,” She jabbed him in the chest and added, “And no funny business.”
Antonio raised an eyebrow, then waggled a non-existent cigar and tried to imitate W.C. Fields, saying, “Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear, wouldn’t dream of it.”
Chapter Six
BACK AT HIS HOTEL, Antonio ordered food for his hungry guest and they sat on the sofa in the lounge area of the suite while they waited for the food to arrive. They were far away from the bed, but Antonio couldn’t stop staring at it and hoping that Joan would join him there soon even though he didn’t want to push things.
Joan knew she shouldn’t be there, that he was bad news and she was just setting herself up for more heartache. No matter how hard she tried to talk herself into bolting for the door and getting out before it was too late she couldn’t get her legs to cooperate. Despite the shock of discovering that her mother was alive, and all that it meant, Joan found herself relaxing as she fell back into a comfortable state in Antonio’s presence. It was like finding a favorite t-shirt or sweater or snuggly pair of socks – only when you put on Antonio as a garment, the fabric was hot to the touch.
Her body tingled with desire, her breath caught every time he got close, but he didn’t press her. At his suggestion she called her sister, advising her that she was taking the night off – to cool off. The die was cast the second she hung up the phone. They both knew what would be coming soon, but they continued the buildup, the foreplay.
The food arrived and Antonio encouraged her to talk while they ate in his room, so she did. She talked about her mother, and while she did, the sexual urges were briefly forgotten. She vented about how her experience with her mother differed so sharply from her sister’s. “Even now, after pulling that stunt, Lissa still thinks our mother hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s always defended her. She’d never been able to see the dark side of our mother.”
“Maybe, there isn’t as much darkness as you think?” Antonio said, then he instantly regretted his comment when Joan’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Are you kidding me? Lissa said that mother is doing a documentary film about her experience and the producer, that asshat waving his clipboard apparently, is all about the genuine shot and not staging things. I’m lucky that my little outburst won’t get cut into the film unless I agree to sign a release – well, that’s not going to happen.”
“Good for you,” Antonio said. He was growing tired of the conversation. He wanted to touch her. He reached over with a cautious finger, brushing a lock of hair off her forehead. Joan’s breath caught in her throat at his touch and her body went still as Antonio inched closer to her. She’d been talking about her mother out of nervousness when all she wanted to do was reach out to Antonio, to feel his touch. He’d moved in clo
ser to her, the heat from his fingers sang into her as continued to touch her face, searing her body and sending tingles of anticipation up and down her spine.
His eyes seemed to focus on the throbbing pulse in her neck. Her chest heaved, and she tilted her head slightly, offering him her mouth as her body leaned towards him. When his lips, at last, touched hers, her mind went dark as all thoughts of her mother, her sister, or anything else in the world vanished in an instant. All that existed was the feeling of his lips on hers, and the rush of joy that flooded her soul.
As they kissed, their lips opened and closed, probing and discovering, the contact becoming more urgent as they deepened their kiss. She reached out, her hands feeling the tight muscles of his abs as his hands gripped her sides and pulled her closer to him. Their mouths locked, they explored each other. She felt his hands flying over her body, rediscovering her curves, rubbing the silk of her blouse against her inflamed skin, scraping the silk against the lace of her bra. His fingers touched her buttocks, her stomach, her shoulders, her breasts. She arched her back into him as his hand slid under her blouse, his touch hot as it roamed over her skin. His fingers, desperate yet deft, unclasped her bra at her back. With her bra released he lifted her blouse and sank his hot mouth onto one nipple.
“Oh, Antonio,” she gasped as he tongued her areola while his hands squeezed and fondled both breasts. Joan lifted her hips, pressing herself into the hardness still trapped in his pants.
She threw back her head back, exposing her neck to him. Like magic, his mouth trailed away from her engorged and throbbing nipples, his tongue grazing against her skin as he licked and sucked and nibbled his way up to her neck. When his hot lips found that sensitive place just under her ear, where he’d claimed her before, she willed him to suck, to give her a hickey. The sensation of Antonio vacuuming up her skin, pulling blood to the surface sent a wave of pleasure through her body. She gasped from the sweet pain as he made his mark. She was home again. Even as he claimed her neck, his hands continued sweetly torturing her breasts. Her nipples hardened and grew under his ministrations, and the pain of his twisting and powerful pinching, sent bolts of pleasure rocketing straight to her clit.
Between her thighs, her pussy clenched with need for him. Her hands flew to his crotch, fingers at his button, his zipper as she tried desperately to free the powerful erection. “Inside me. Now. Please.”
Antonio didn’t hesitate. In one swift movement, he yanked down her jeans, taking her panties with them and shoving them down to her ankles. She pulled one foot free, which freed her legs so he could spread them apart. He mounted her, towering on top of her, breathing hard, his eyes never leaving her face. Then he was in her, plunging his thick shaft on the first thrust deep into her waiting pussy. Her back slammed into the side of the couch from the impact. She groaned with pleasure and need.
“Joan!” Antonio said, his voice husky with conjugal bliss as he thrust fast and deep, incapable of containing the pent-up need for her any longer. He felt her fingernails digging into his back and watched as her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth formed the perfect O. She was coming - he could sense it, smell it, feel her pussy tightening around his cock. He reached down between their sweating bodies and rubbed at her clit with his fingers. Her hot juices drenched his fingertips, her swollen heat spurring him on. He slammed his body into her, trying to push his cock out through her back. That sent her over. “Antonio,” she yelled in her ecstasy as her pussy clamped down on his cock, trying to trap him inside her.
Her head thrashed from side to side, her beautiful face a picture in bliss as she came against his engorged flesh. The thought that he should pull out because he wasn’t wearing a condom flew across his mind, but he pushed it away. He couldn’t pull out, he couldn’t let go. He had to have her.
Instinct, nature, some primal need took over. His hips activated into turbo mode and he pounded his cock into her like a wild animal as his balls swelled. The rush of pleasure broke him and he embraced the moment, pulling her hips into him for one final thrust. “Ah, God, Joan,” he moaned, as he let go – relishing the pleasure rocketing through him as his hot seed exploded in blasts deep inside her.