AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Santiago touched his throat, as if he could will away the frustration lodged inside. Her beautiful eyes flashed with interest, and if he stared at them he’d be lost. Best not to leave things to chance, so without a word he turned around and left the room heading for the office. He’d almost said too much. The self-hatred he’d continue to hide from everyone. Especially from Tiffany.
If she knew he’d been in love with her, and not Patricia when she’d died, it would be like admitting his guilt. His weakness. Back then, he’d been a twenty-two-year-old man, only three years older than Patricia. Tiffany had been seventeen, far too young—and illegal to touch no matter how much he craved her.
Whether he loved Patricia the same way he did Tiffany or not, he would have married her and fathered their child—and been good at it.
Become a good man. Make me proud. His father’s motto during his childhood rang in Santiago’s ears. He’d tried to follow his late father’s honorable footsteps.
Which was why he had raced his car, the second someone at the party mentioned there had been an accident not far from the Hamptons property. So close, in fact, they saw smoke from the window. He’d arrived at the scene before anyone else, even emergency medical services.
The car had hydro planed, and rolled over to the side. He heard Tiffany’s voice, but couldn’t hear Patricia’s. He’d tried to climb to the side to check on his fiancée, but the car tipped over and he got caught under the frame. Pinned.
After the accident, he’d been deemed a hero for trying to save the two women from the smoking car. Little did the world know how twisted his mind actually was. Little did they know his heart skipped a beat when he’d imagined Tiffany could be hurt—and not Patricia. Maybe he’d deserved the outcome, for first praying for the life of his stepsister instead of the woman carrying his child.
The post-accident exposure had shifted his focus. Before, he’d been a journalist major starting to work within the wars and crisis segments. After the tragedy, he was done with bad news and death. Instead, he’d nailed a successful and critically acclaimed TV show in the U.S., where he visited off the beaten track destinations with his crew, and it finished its fourth season.
When he had scheduled the sessions with Amir La Sombra, he should have factored in the possibility of bad weather. In the last five years, he hadn’t skied. He worked out with a stellar personal trainer, inside his mansion in Barcelona or in his loft in Central Park. In Spain, he’d used his private swimming pool and done all the exercises doctors and physiotherapists recommended.
Which brings me here.He scanned the office. A sleek Apple computer and printer, along with a heavy oak desk and a back-friendly swivel chair occupied the space. Pastel colored, Monet type paintings adorned the pink wall. Leave it to his mother to create the perfect weekend retreat, which lacked reliable Wi-Fi, yet offered a modern oasis so she could work from home undisturbed.
Fishing his cell phone from his pocket, he looked at the pitiful 4G strength. Only two bars blinked, and he clicked on his weather app. A couple minutes went by without much change, until the page finally loaded and he saw an ugly black cloud covering the region. Mierda.
Headlines flashed at the bottom of the page, but whenever he tried to click one of them, the Internet went out. He kept at it, until the light from his phone shone brighter than anything else around him. What the hell?
He blinked, unable to see much. Great. No electricity.
“Santiago?” he heard the soft voice behind the heavy closed door.
Drawing in a breath, he strode to open it. Even though darkness didn’t fill the space completely, it was just a matter of time before the grayness of the room, the color outlining her fine figure, hid her. Maybe not seeing her was better. He twisted the handle, and found her with her hand in mid-air, as if she meant to knock on the door.
“Yeah?” he asked, and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Do you know where they keep flashlights or candles? I looked in the kitchen, but couldn’t find anything. Maybe here?”
“I don’t know where they keep them. You’re welcome to check it out.” He reared back and gestured for her to enter. She held onto her cell phone, using the flashlight function to guide her through the place.
She started to pat the shelves, then opened some drawers. He stayed as far from her as possible. When she left, if she hadn’t found them, he’d search for flashlights. For the time being he’d keep out of her way so their limbs wouldn’t accidentally touch. Or she wouldn’t peg him as this friendly guy helping her out.
She placed her iPhone on the desk, facing up so it brightened the room’s interior. When she leaned over the desk and bent to open the bottom drawers, he had the perfect view of her round ass. His body roared, and his cock twitched.
Without saying a word, he stepped out. Shower. He needed one of those, badly. Maybe water sliding down his body would offer him release from the sizzling sensation flaming through him anytime Tiffany and he shared the same space.
Going to the suite for a shower was out of the question since she’d moved in there.
Entering the full bathroom across from the hall, he closed the door and sighed. He took off his prosthetic limb and placed it on the stool, keeping it dry as usual. Then, he removed the socket around his leg. He took off his clothes and tossed them on the floor. All he needed now was to get rid of the senseless heat claiming his body.
He patted the wall until he found the tap, then rotated it until it heated his skin. Clouds of vapor quickly swirled around him, and he sat back on a metal stool and closed his eyes. Even in the darkness, her image materialized. His cock hardened, and he palmed it. Throwing his head back, he imagined her kissable lips taking his length inside her, her tongue swirling around his shaft. She would lick his underside. A rush of blood surged through him, and he started to stroke himself, feeling his hard-on grow as the fantasy continued in his head.
He moved his hand up and down on his length, mimicking what he wished she’d do. Her soft hand caressing him, squeezing his balls, instead of his rough palm. Oh how he’d love to fuck her mouth. A grunt he didn’t expect parted his lips, and he intensified the rhythm, searching for temporary release.
The sound of a metal object hitting the floor yanked him from the brink of coming. He jerked back, and his eyes opened with a start. A large flashlight rolled on the floor and lightened the entire bathroom.
He raised his gaze, and his heart slammed against his ribcage.
Tiffany stood inches from him, with parted lips and widened eyes. “I-I found a flashlight.”
