4

ROSIANNA

I'd done something stupid. I'd done something really stupid.

Why did I have to enter the room? I should have stayed outside. What gave me the impression that I could pull it off like I did when I was eighteen? I was no longer eighteen. I was not that sweet little virgin anymore. No, I was quite the opposite. So, why the hell did I enter the room, and worse, allow myself to sit through it?

My whole body was on fire. Every little part of me. I needed relief and I needed it quick, or I’d break down right in front of Santos. It was the one shame I'd rather die than go through in front of him.

“Rosy? Are you alright?” he drawled, not really concerned but amused.

“You're a first-class bastard, Santos,” I whispered, my voice almost shaky and hoarse with the strength of my anger and desire for that man.

He chuckled softly and walked away from me to the bed and started folding the sheets. “We've already established that long before I went abroad.”

My pussy clenched. I felt shaky on the inside. I needed to leave. Now.

I stood up quietly, a movement that belied the urgency and desire coursing through me. Suddenly, I regretted putting on high heels because I was shaky on my feet.

“Don't tell me you're leaving, Rosy, when you just arrived?” he asked with an arch of his brow.

“Oh, I didn't just arrive. I've been here for almost the hour it took you to fuck two women right in front of me,” I spat.

“Is that jealousy I smell in your voice?” He seemed amused at the prospect.

“Just conviction,” I shot at him, lying through my teeth. 

I turned and started for the door, almost having the urge to run before I did something really stupid. Like beg Santos to fuck me.

I was almost at the door when a hand curled around my shoulder. I suddenly found myself against the wall and trapped between Santos and it.

“Oh, Rosy,” he whispered, his voice sending shivers down my heated body. “Do you remember?”

“What?” I asked, even though I feared I already knew what he was asking.

He leaned closer to my ear. “That night six years ago? Right here, in this house, in this room...you begged me to fuck you”

I closed my eyes again at the pain of the memory. “You wanted me,” I whispered.

“Oh, I did,” he admitted. “So damn bad. Desperately. You were a craving then, almost like very expensive alcohol. I was sure I'd get addicted to you if I touched you.”

Silence.

“Is that why you didn't?” I finally asked, trying to keep it simple, but that was a pain that had been with me forever. How could I not know it?

Santos shook his head, his eyes staring pointedly at my lips. “I stopped because you were a virgin who deserved more. You deserved better than a man like me. I would have spoiled you.”

I would have laughed if my chest wasn't hurting so bad. If my body wasn't on fire, burning for this man.

“Let me go, Santos.” 

He ignored me. Instead, he leaned in. “I was stupid that night, you know. Quite stupid of not taking what you innocently offered, even though I wanted to, so damn much.”

I loved you! I loved you, you bastard! I wanted to throw these words to his face, but I refrained. He didn't need to know.

I felt his hand move from my waist down to the edge of my dress before snaking inside. My dress rode up as his hand moved in a caress and rested on my panties. 

“What do you think you're doing, Santos?” I protested, doing my best to ignore the shards of pleasure that shot through me.

“Fuck, you're soaked,” he muttered, caressing my pussy through my silk panties.

“Leave me alone, Santos. I don't want you. Not anymore.” Trying to keep the pain from my voice, I pushed him, but it was like trying to move a wall.

“That's not what your body says, darling.” He pushed the panties aside and stroked my bare clit. I couldn't stop the moan from escaping.

“What my body wants and what I want are two different things,” I said truthfully, even though in this case, my body and I wanted the same thing.

Anger darkened his eyes as he dipped his head and kissed my neck, his arousal pressed against my thigh. “But what did you do, Rosy? After that night we made out—after that night I tasted you—what did you do?”

My brain was still trying to process that information when he suddenly pushed away from me, severing all contact. “The next day, you offered my best friend the same thing you offered me!” he spat venomously.

I stopped breathing. Something curled up inside me and died. “W-what?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “You thought I wouldn't find out!? You thought Jason would keep it silent!? You went right ahead to slept with my best friend, you ungrateful slut!”

Santos didn't shout the words, but his deep, angry voice still cut like a whip. Oh, God. Oh, my God.

“The same day I left was the day you gave yourself and your virginity to my best friend. Why, Rosianna? You couldn't keep it in your pants, right? The same mouth you used to profess your love for me that night was the same mouth you used to scream for my damn best friend!” He was really angry, his hands fisted. His eyes held hatred as he glared daggers at me. “I'll never forgive you for that, Rosianna. Ever. You might have given your virginity to Jason, but I own your body and I'll take what's mine. One of these days, I'll have you on my bed and I'll take everything you have to give and more. Not out of love for you—no, not anymore. But because you owe me, Rosianna. Your body is mine.”

That said, he turned and walked to the bathroom without a backward glance, leaving a disoriented, close-to-tears me behind.