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He laughs and his expression goes cold. “Way bigger than the both of us together. You'll see soon enough.”
The gate to my father’s house opens and the car pulls through the entrance. Once stopped, my father shoves open his door. As he's getting out, he stares at me with a clear warning flashing in his threatening eyes. “Get some rest,mijo, and I'll see you at five a.m.”
Slowly approaching the house, he doesn't bother to look back. Each step he takes is laced in confidence. They represent everything he is. Strong, powerful, and someone who you don't want to piss off.
Being on the other end many times, I know better than anyone. It still doesn't stop me. It's the only way our relationship works. It’s how we are allowed to exist in each other's world—fighting each other every step of the way. What happens when only one of us is left standing?
His security greets him at the front of the house. I climb out after him and slam the door shut behind me. My force is so strong it shakes the whole car. Picking up my pace, I catch up to my father and we both take a step back when the door swings open.
“Daddy, you're home.” Andres steps onto the porch, blinking sleepily.
“I am, mi gatito.”
Not caring who sees, Andres jumps into my father's arms, looping his legs around his waist. Forgetting anyone else exists, my father smothers him in kisses and carries him upstairs as if they haven't seen each other in years.
Rolling my eyes, I walk up the other stairway. My stomach rolls in disgust at the sound of their lips smacking. I breathe a sigh of relief when they disappear into their room, silencing their noises behind the door. On my way to my room, I stop at Fernando's door, staring at the knob, curious to what I'd find if I pushed it open.
Swallowing hard, I shake off my crazy idea and rush off to my room in desperate need of relieving myself. Everything still throbs between my legs. It's been days since I've gotten off and what happened earlier didn't help my situation.
I lock the door after closing it softly behind me. Cold air nips at my skin when I strip out of my clothes. I toss my phone and gun on the nightstand before sliding down my pants. For a brief minute, I close my eyes, imagining Fernando breaking in while I'm sleeping, tying me to the bed, and having his way with me.
My whole inner being trembles. I grip the wall, unsteady on my feet. Pressing my head against the door, I catch my breath before retreating to my bed. The slight throb between my legs increases the more I move. Grabbing the lube from my nightstand drawer, I climb on top of my covers, the room's cool air increasing my arousal.
My nipples harden and I lightly tug on my nipple ring with one hand while running the fingers of my bionic hand down the center of my body. It was a new and different experience having the cool silicone rubbing over my skin. The heavy arm is taking some time to adjust to; the weight of it and the way it rubs on my incision is sometimes uncomfortable.
Ignoring the ache in my bones and cramping in my elbow, I stroke myself dry. The hard metal is rough on my skin and I like it way more than I should. After a few more tugs and palming, I pour lube into my left hand.
Cleaning the sticky liquid off my prosthetic is an annoying bitch I am too tired to deal with tonight. I don't need to forget in the morning and accidently add a little extra spread to my toast for my breakfast.
Grabbing at my cock with my left hand, I squeeze my balls with my right fingers. I wince when I'm unable to control my grip and clutch too tightly. It’s a learning curve. It'd be smarter to practice on something else but my impatience usually wins over my logic.
Closing my eyes, I fuck up into myself, imagining my hands are Fernando's. His thumb glides over my slit, combining my precum with the lube as he runs his fingers up and down my shaft. I arch my back, filling the room with my soft moans and heavy breaths.
Pleasure spirals in my lower stomach and heat ignites my bones from the sensation of Fernando's eager hands. His deep voice floods my ears, edging me on while he gropes my balls. Strong fingers tug and squeeze them while my cock is being rubbed in all the right places. Rolling my hips, I chase his hand, floating further away from the surface.
Before I can fully slip off the edge, I move my hands and collapse against the mattress. The high I got earlier from not coming was like nothing I've ever experienced and I want to edge myself a little longer before releasing all the built up frustration Fernando left me with.
I meant it when I said I wanted to come with him beside me. And I will. I won't give him the choice tomorrow and pretending will no longer be necessary.
My smile spreads along with my excitement for our trip to Mexico. Before I was dreading it and now I can't wait until we step on the private jet together. I want to be drunk off more than the champagne and I can't wait for him to be fully intoxicated with me.
Eight
Fernando
I enter the private jet closely behind Zacharias, averting my gaze from Enrico the whole time. Antonio rides up front with the pilot and I sit in one of the seats in the center of the plane across from the dining area. Enrico follows his dad to the back where two cushioned benches line the plane's walls. They are having a serious discussion while the jet is preparing to take off and surprisingly the conversation never once gets heated.
It's civil and quiet. I can barely make out a single word they are saying but I can still hear Enrico's voice, which manages to be soft spoken and threatening at the same time. I shift in my seat as the plane starts to lift, my stomach flipping. I’ve never been a fan of being above the ground. I have more control on land, and it’s limited when high up in the air. I’m in the sky’s hands right now and I only ever trust being in mine. It’s easier to decide my own fate that way.
“Hey,” Enrico says, swaying back and forth. He holds his hands out to catch his balance.
“Shouldn't you be seated until we're no longer going through turbulence?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, turning to the kitchenette area. “Want a drink?”
“No. I'm good, thanks.”
“Oh come on, old man.” He twists open the cap of a bottle. Gold liquid swishes back and forth as the plane rocks. “Have a drink with us.”
