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“Make me feel whole,” she whispers.
I drive into her with a single thrust, both of us letting out a sound of pleasure with an abandonment that shouldn't exist in the kind of place we're in. But neither of us cares. She wraps her legs around my waist, her eyes burning hot as she surrenders herself to the passion of the moment. I do the same.
Thrusting into her, grinding my hips, and feeling every bit of ecstasy known to man during intercourse, I soon groan as my orgasm starts to build. “Shit, I'm close.” I gasp, finding her clit and starting to apply pressure to send her over the edge.
I don't have to wait long. Soon, she's shaking underneath me, her walls spasming around me. As my release leaves me, I distinctly come to the realization that I indeed love this girl beneath me.
I have no idea how to convince her, so I spend the next couple of weeks taking her out and showing just how important she is to me.
All was going well until I received an email from Tamara asking, no, demanding that I dump Ivy and come back to her. I found the message ridiculous; I thought it funny, too. So, as I get home that evening, I convince Ivy to spend the night at the mansion and then show her the message after dinner.
“What’s the meaning of this?” she barks immediately after reading the email.
“Nonsense, right?” I laugh, expecting her to join me. But instead, she doesn't. She stares at me, looking ready to rip my head off my neck. “What is it?” I ask in concern.
“How can you show me something like this? Do you know how it makes me feel?”
I pause, trying to see where I'd gone wrong in being open with her. I'm unable to find any fault in my actions. Only one in hers. She's jealous. Ivy is jealous over me.
Does that mean she loves me too?
Chapter Eight
Ivy
Rafael, I'm sure you're tired of banging your housekeeper by now. I think you should dump her before the news gets out and stains your reputation. I'm always here for you should you need someone to make you feel better than any other woman could.
Love,
Tamara Rodriguez.
I memorized every word of that email. Every punctuation is etched into my brain. I even tried reading it in her voice, and I have to admit that it stings. But she's not so wrong though. I am beneath Rafael.
What we have never should have happened. But it did. And it's still happening; for how long, though? Last night, when he showed me that message, he thought it was funny. And although I was pissed and showed him, he found my anger funny too.
As a matter of fact, he made sweet love to me after our argument. And I let him. He seems to be in a good spirit, though. Something I’m unable to understand. So after he fell asleep, I snuck out of his house and walked home, where I crawled into my bed. I have since been unable to get a wink of sleep.
I've played over the gala event hundreds of times in my head. Who looked at me in some way, who responded to my greetings, and who didn't. Who spoke to Rafael while we walked inside, pretending I didn't exist.
Do I even exist in his world? If so, where's my place?
Sometime in the early morning hours, my phone rings and I see the call is from him. I try to ignore it, but my heart wins over my head.
“You're not here.” Is the first thing he says the moment I pick up the call.
“Yeah, I needed to attend to something at the apartment.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Why'd you call?”
“Nothing. I was just hoping we could have a repeat of last night before I go to work.”
His words sting. He called me because he wants sex. But I can't afford to let my feelings show. “You'll have to make do with the memory of last night.”
“I guess. See you later tonight?”
“Sure.”
