5

I didn't stand there after Santos walked away. Instead, I walked—staggered—my way out of his bedroom, my body shaking. For the first time in a long time, tears filled my eyes because of what happened when I was eighteen.

Jason, that bastard. Oh, God, that bastard!

The cool air that hit me outside didn't help my arousal one bit. “Where's the nearest club?” I asked a woman I met just outside Santos's compound. I thanked God that it was dark. The woman couldn't see my tears.

“Just down the next block, my dear,” she answered before she continued on her way.

I was deeply shaking as I made my way to the club—both with the arousal gnawing at me and the accusations Santos had just made. At the front door of the club, I dried my tears. With my chin lifted, I walked into the club, sidestepping slow-dancers, avoiding looking at couples making out. It didn't take long for men to stare at me. I'd long ago made peace with the fact that men found me very attractive. It was something that was a curse and sometimes a blessing. Times like this it was a blessing.

Without wasting time, I mentally singled out the most attractive of all the men. I walked purposefully closer to him and his smile broadened as I neared him.

“You're one beautiful wo—” he started.

“Let's go to the restroom.” I kept my voice low and sultry so he'd be the only person who hears. 

His eyes lifted in surprise at the blatant invitation, but he nodded and followed me. His arm moved around my waist, but I stepped out of it, giving him a warning stare.

I wanted sex, not misguided romance.

The bathrooms were all occupied, but fortunately, I found an empty one and it didn't smell that bad. I pulled him inside and flipped the locks. He was going to say something, but I didn't give him the chance. Instead, I lunged at him and slammed my lips against his. I was on fire; the earlier it was quenched, the fucking better.

“No talking,” I whispered against his lips, snaking my hand down and wrapping it around his erection. Unbiddenly, the image of Santos's naked body as he pleasured two women flashed in my mind. His dick was mouthwatering—long and fat, with thick veins. 

Dammit! Stop, Rosianna.

Ceasing that thought, I unbuckled the stranger's pants, watching his dick sprang free. It had nothing on Santos's cock, but it was average at least. I massaged the head thoroughly, my tongue buried down his throat and moaned with satisfaction when precum spilled. He groaned, his hands hungrily roaming all over my body.

Finally, I broke the kiss and reached for my bag. I withdrew the condom, jerkily getting the job done. Pulling my dress up, I left it hanging above my waist, faced the mirror and gave him my back. “Get on with it,” I ordered breathlessly.

Those seemed to be the only words he was waiting for because he raised one of my legs to the counter, shifted my G-string and plunged into me. I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut because I couldn’t bear to see my reflection in the mirror in front of me. I never could.

His thrusts were hard and fast, and he grunted his pleasures behind me while I bit my lips to keep mine in check. I couldn't stop thinking about Santos's words as another man fucked me in the restroom of a club.

“You offered the same body to my best friend! Jason told me!”

Tears filled my eyes. I fought really hard to keep them at bay. As pleasure raked my body, the crawling in my lower belly lessened, but my heart was hurting really badly, as if it had burst out of my chest. I cried out as my orgasm washed through me, momentarily keeping my mind blank as it sizzled my body, and I heard the groan of the man behind me as he came too.

Afterwards, I arranged my clothes, took the condom from him, and flushed it down the toilet. Then I picked up my bag and headed out of the restroom.

“Hey! You didn't even tell me your name,” the man called behind me.

I ignored him, walking away from him and straight out of the club.

That night, I laid down on the bed, but sleep eluded me. The ticking of the clock was loud in the silence of my room as I tried my best to fall asleep. My mind kept going back to six years ago. I tried so many times not to think about it, but it was really hard to do when sleep refused to come to the rescue. In the end, my mind drifted.

I remembered that very day, August fifth, when Santos had just told me in the middle of one of our fights that he’d be travelling to Paris. He was twenty-four to my eighteen years then.

SIX YEARS AGO...

“You know, it's just as well that I'm leaving for Paris tomorrow. At least we'll stop going at each other's heads,” Santos declared as he glared at me.

Those words had shocked me speechless. “What?” I'd always known that he was leaving but I didn't know that they set a date. It was too soon!

He shrugged. “I'm leaving tomorrow.”

The antagonism bled out of me. Our parents thought Santos and I saw each other as step-siblings, but for some reason, we'd never been able to see ourselves as that. It was always clear in my mind that Santos was adopted and there was no blood between us.

I began crying, begging him not to leave. He hugged me tightly, telling me he'd be coming back soon.

“I won't stay for more than a year. Why would I when you're right here? I can't stay that long without our fights,” he teased.

I gave him a watery smile, but I didn't pull away from his arms. It was a momentary truce. He kissed me then, awakening feelings I never knew existed before. His lips coaxing mine, teasing mine, his tongue tangling with mine, was so heavenly that I lost all reasons and melted in his arms.

When my back touched the bed, I gasped in surprise because I was so into him that I didn't know when or how we moved from the living room to his bedroom, and he ravished me. He touched me everywhere; his lips caressed me everywhere. His lips settled on my breasts, playing with them before he drew the left nipple into his mouth, drawing a pleasurable moan from my lips. I had wanted more. So much more.

“Let's do it,” I whispered feverishly to him.

He shuddered slightly but shook his head. “We can't, baby.”

“I want you, please,” I pleaded, my voice betraying the love I had for him, my body melting into his and wanting more.

But he pulled away slightly and shook his head again. “When I come back, I'll take you then. We'll make sweet, beautiful love, and I'll show you how it is between a man and a woman. In a year's time, Rosy.” He kissed me then and he added, “Then you'll be nineteen and you'll be mine. I promise, my sweet.”

He promised me right there on his bed, and he kept that promise. He didn't touch me anymore, but we kissed a lot before I had to go home. It was the best night of my life.

It was a promise I tugged away in a safe place in my heart, cradling it and cherishing it. 

But, the next day, the devil opened the gates of hell for me and stole something from me forever.