ve-star hotel with demanding guests room service is available twenty-four hours. We order a few different things. With a half hour to kill, I tug her into the shower with me. It was supposed to be a quick wash, but damn, she’s a quick learner, and in minutes she has me hard. “Condom,” I mutter as she pulls me to her by my cock.
“Pill, remember.” She moans.
Thank fuck. I lift her in my arms; she’s guiding my cock inside her and we both moan at the sensation. Fuck. I haven’t been inside a woman without a condom in over fifteen years. No more condoms, ever. Her pussy is wet silk, clutching me tight. Her arms around my neck bring me down to her. I fight to slow down, wanting to make this last for her. Only Bethany isn’t helping. Her pussy clenches around my cock in a rhythm that matches my pounding heartbeat. No, damn it. My hands go down on her hips, holding her in place as I pull out. An angry moan comes out of her, but I’m not listening. I spin her around, pushing her against the wet tile. I press a hand to the base of her spine and bend her over. Perfect. With a hard push I’m buried deep inside her.
Grip tight on her hips, I hold her in place as I fuck her hard, relentlessly, owning all of her. Her cries fill the room, music to my ears. I feel her legs buckle; now she’s ready. Lifting her slightly, my cock finds her sweet spot, making her scream. Right there, her pussy convulses around my cock. That’s it, sugar, come on my cock like a good girl. Another stroke deep inside and she’s screaming her orgasm. Fuck yes. I allow myself to come and fight to stay standing as her pussy milks my cock with her aftershocks. No more condoms, ever.
It takes a while for both of us to be able to move. I rinse us off then wrap her in a towel and carry her to bed. She keeps her arms around me. “Dante, are you mad at me?”
“No, sweetheart, but I run this, us. You come when I say, you come on my cock and my tongue.”
“I’m sorry, you just felt so good inside me. I got a little carried away.”
“You’ll learn—I’ll teach you.”
I nip at her mouth, wanting to push her back down onto the bed and slide into her all over again. Except there’s a knock at the door. Room service.
“When you’re ready, come out. Once we’ve eaten we’ll commence with the teaching.”
“Yes, Dante, whatever you say, Dante.”
“Brat.”
13
Bethany
I’m posing for a picture for Dante in the Sabatini gardens—no relation—and I’m doing it willingly, with a smile on my face. The idea of telling Dante no to anything doesn’t even cross my mind, I love making him happy; when I see him smile, I can’t help but smile too. My face hurts from the near constant smile I’ve had since we got to Madrid. It’s our third day here and our first out of the hotel. If I had my way, we’d still be in our room, but Dante muttered something about dehydration and surprise I wasn’t sore yet. I admitted I was sore by the second day; however, I had known it would happen and packed a little something to help. It worked even better than I hoped. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut because he got all upset. Something about me hurting myself or him hurting me. I’m not sure, he lapsed into Italian a few times, then dressed the both of us at lightning speed and before I knew it I was walking through the Prado.
That was this morning and now as the sun sets, we make our way through the garden holding hands. I hear what sounds like a baby crying. What the hell? Dante stops, his eyes searching. “You heard it too?” I ask, glad I’m not losing it.
“Yeah, where is it coming from?”
“I’m not sure.”
For the next ten minutes we roam the edge of the gardens until I see movement under a bush. “Dante.” I kneel and scoop up the tiny bundle of white fur. Ah, it’s a kitten. “She’s so little. Where’s her mommy?”
I turn to mush at the tiny meow the kitten lets loose. Its eyes aren’t even open. Where in the world is the mama kitty? Dante is searching. “I don’t think there is a mom. It doesn’t look like a place a mother would have her kitten, and there’s no trace of a mom anywhere. Some asshole dumped the kitten.”
“It’s a good thing they aren’t here for me to kick their ass. Dante, this kitten is too small to be without her mom, her eyes aren’t open. We need to get her checked out by a vet and some baby bottles to feed her.”
He goes still for a few seconds, then nods. He’s pulling his phone out as he guides me toward the exit. “There’s a vet a little over a mile away open late.”
The kitten is purring as I hold her against my chest. Too late I realize I’m in a white lace dress and it’s covered in dirt from the kitten. I don’t care. A cab has us at the veterinarian’s office in a few minutes. The setup isn’t too different than an American office. Only one other person is in the waiting room, a woman with a paperback book reading quietly. I nod at the receptionist and tell her about finding the kitten. She hands us a clipboard and asks us to have a seat. I hate giving up the kitten to Dante, ridiculously attached to it already, but although he speaks enough Spanish to get by, he doesn’t read or write it. The sight of the tiny kitten cuddled close to his chest has me turning to mush all over again.
Before I’m done with the forms we’re called to the back. The portly male veterinarian isn’t concerned. He hands the kitten over to his assistant, Carla. I’m annoyed at how easily Carla cradles the kitten close as she croons to it. There’s no need to worry, he assures me, she has a lot of experience with bottle feeding kittens. She will take care of the kitten and their office will find a home for it soon.
I’m deflated as the visions I had of three a.m. kitten feedings are snatched away by the smiling Carla. Fine. I didn’t want to take care of the kitten anyway. After I explain everything to Dante, he thanks the man for stealing my kitten, then assures the vet he wants to not only pay for the care of the kitten, but also make a donation to the facility’s efforts to rescue animals. “More like paying him to take my kitten away,” I mutter as I push out of the room.
It feels like forever before Dante joins me on the busy sidewalk. “Let’s go back to the room to get changed for dinner.”
“Fine, whatever.”
We’re back in the room and I’m in the walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear when Dante pulls me into his arms. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to keep the kitten. Even if it wasn’t feasible with the whole quarantine thing and it’s the best thing for the kitten. I understand you’re sad, we don’t have to go out for dinner.”
I wrap my arms around his middle and squeeze tight. “You being perfect is kind of annoying.”
“I’ll work on it.”