Mi Carino (27 page)

“
Ye-yes,” she exhaled. He turned her nipples between his thumb and forefinger until they were deliciously tight. A sharp stimulus of arousal poured through her chest warming her all over.
He was right, it felt so good
. Suddenly her excitement and anxiety mixed with something else and it kept her skin and pussy tingling. It was a new unexplored feeling she couldn’t name.

Diego kissed her shoulder lovingly. “Better, isn’t it?”

One hand ran down her flat abdomen. The other tugged at the side band of her g-string, pulling it down the curve of her hip.

“
I love making up with you Marcella.”

The flimsy panty drifted down her thighs and dropped past her knees. He lifted one hand to cup her chin and put the other between her thighs. He stroked and rubbed her pussy. Muscles shaking, inside and out, she succumbed to a double whammy of sensation from the insertion of his finger. Marcella’s lids closed as his finger play instructed the rhythm of her moving hips. Ripples of pleasure went through her, pushing the air again from her lungs.

“
It’s the altitude, sexy, the cabin pressure, your fear, and my hunger for you that you feel.” He slipped a second finger in her and she thought her heart would explode.

“
Feel that?”

She nodded, no longer able to be verbal.

He turned her, removing his fingers. Marcella’s feet were tangled in her dress. She sat down on the bed because her legs were so shaky. Diego picked up her dress and placed it neatly on the hook to the back of the door. He then removed his suit jacket and his vest, including the gold pocket watch.

“
Diego?”

“
Yes, love.”

“
That watch, the antique one. It’s nice. Where did it come from?”

He continued to undress before her. His expression fierce and a little predatory, but her question remained unanswered. Marcella sighed in disappointment. She took the time to admire his body once more, to collect her breath, and the courage to not back down no matter the charge of emotions rushing through her. The adrenaline pumping through her veins washed out all traces of fear.

“
That’s better. Keep looking in my eyes, while I make love to you,” he said as he moved toward her.  

“
Love?” Marcella asked.

“
Yes, it’s what I feel each time I touch you.”

“
Are you in love with me?” She pushed herself back and he positioned her on the bed, his long erection between them. His body completely covered hers. She lowered into the pillows, suddenly feeling the turbulence shake the cabin. “Oh God.” She wheezed.

“
Shhh…
bonita
, it’s only my passion for you.”

“
No it’s wind pockets hitting the jet. Could it make us crash?”

“
No, no, we won’t crash, I promise.” He kissed her nipple then her shoulder.

Marcella relaxed. She kept her eyes closed and the bed sheets in her clenched fists. All the while soft sweet kisses were pressed into her skin, and hands caressed her intimately.

“
No. No. Sweetheart. You will look at me while I make love to you.”

She opened her eyes.

“
Good girl. Now touch me, Marcella,” he said, his eyes roaming over her. She reached between them and let her fingers go through the thick pubic hair to his thickly veined shaft. It bulked in her hand. Her fingers closed around it and began stroking. The pleasure mirrored in his eyes.

“
Aye…eso se siente bien,”
Diego moaned. Dropping his head, to her forehead they kept their eyes trained on each other. Marcella released the breath she held since the turbulence began. She sighed over the feel of his lips over her skin and creamed herself when the side of his face brushed hers. Stroking him harder and harder, she couldn’t help but angle her head to feel his warm breath across her cheekbone. When his gentle kiss became too much she turned her face away, but he sought her mouth, giving her another deep probing kiss. All the while she continued stroking him like she knew he enjoyed. She held fast to his cock as he arched his back for better position.

“
Inside, I want to be inside of you,” he groaned.

Marcella understood, opening her thighs, lifting her hips, she guided his cockhead to her opening. Her hand moved as he made his descent. She gripped his back tightly. Not since he laid her upon the bed and parted her legs did she anticipate the kind of rapture that ripped through her pelvis when he thrust into her.

Marcella clawed his back, her sanity loosening. Such a head rush, akin to freefalling. Her legs cinched around his hips and Diego drilled into her never taking his eyes from hers. She barely blinked as he ravished her below. Hard jerky thrusts rocked through her, and the plane again jostled through another pocket of turbulence.

Their pelvises met. The in and out of his cock became like riding a wave, slow and soothing. A bout of dizzying decadence split her in half. All thoughts of the plane hurling toward the earth and killing them in a fiery crash were gone. Gripping his arms she held tight to them and whimpered to keep from screaming her sheer delight.

Diego kissed her once more. She swore she felt him smile within their kiss and savor the taste of her submission.

“
I want you so bad,” he rasped.

“
I want you, too,” she said deepening the kiss.

Then his thrusts increased in frequency. The invasion and pressure was so sweet she cried out against his mouth. In that instant, Marcella lost all sense of time, all understanding of the world outside of the small bed she lay pinned against, and outside the craft that sailed through the clouds. Diego delivered repeated thrusts forcing her hips to move and her thighs to tremble in response. Her heart and body pulsed with the same beat. His head lifted and she obeyed his order to look him in the eye. His smile was strangely tender. Again he thrust and a shock of rapture burned her within, startling her into an answering movement of her hips. Her hands skidded over his damp shoulders. Secretly she relished the coil and bunch of muscles beneath her fingertips.  

Diego loved her as he had before but this time the anticipation and her writhing and thrashing beneath him had him pounding with a greater sense of urgency. She felt so captured. His arm slipped underneath her and pulled her closer to him. “Ride it with me…” he breathed into her ear “And just relax.”

Marcella’s eyes fluttered then closed as she gave in. She stopped fighting and the pleasure of surrender was maddening for her. Soon she forced him into her rhythm and gave him more and more in return.

“
¡Ay Dios mio!”
He wheezed.

The universe imploded. Marcella came so hard she saw a rainbow of color behind her now fluttering lids. She nearly wept it felt so right, so good. As keen, desperate ecstasy faded into delicious satisfaction she wondered dreamily if she had been made for this.  

Diego collapsed soon after, kissing her face, remaining buried deep inside of her. “You okay, beautiful?” He wheezed. She smiled, because she was. She felt liberated, free. She’d never think of flying the same way again.

“
Perfect, my love.” She said in a soft purr. “Perfect.”

Chapter Thirteen

Spectacular. The word and several others surfaced in the recesses of her mind when she entered the Opera House. The inside theater, designed in the shape of a horseshoe, had rows of boxed seats that circled the stage with gold engraving and deep red lined carpets. Even though she knew very little about Italian operas she understood the privilege of their seating in the private box that overlooked the orchestra below the stage.

The orchestra finished tuning up. The house lights dimmed and the conductor took to the podium. Marcella sat back ready to enjoy the evening. Except, she didn’t. The music was rapturous but as the Opera progressed she found herself liking it less and less. She found it increasingly disturbing that a poor Madame Butterfly, helplessly in love with a man who devalued her at every turn, chased her fairytale. Marcella shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She opened the playbill and read the insert. Madame Butterfly, a theatrical display of a woman who is to be wooed and seduced with sweet words and smiles but to never be taken seriously. This story would have no happy ending. And when the tragic, climatic end of Madame Butterfly came, the unflattering comparisons kept hammering at her conscious.

How could one woman be so fool hearted for someone so undeserving?

The applause finally died away and the audience started to move. Diego took notice of her glistening eyes and pressed together lips, and how far she had moved from his touch in her seat. “What is it? Did you not like it?”

“
It’s disturbing.”

Diego smiled. “It’s a beautiful love story, one of my favorites.”

She looked at him and wanted to punch him in the face. “Why? What about what happened to that poor woman would make you smile like that?”

Diego’s smile faded. “Poor woman? I’m speaking of the music, the dancing. The soprano tonight is the best in the world,” he offered.

She soon realized he was talking of something else entirely.

“
It’s an acquired taste, the Opera. Maybe we should have seen a Broadway show instead, no?”

“
Um, no, it was fine. I enjoyed it,” she lied.

“
Marcella, don’t lie to me.
If you didn’t like it, then say so.”

“
I didn’t. I didn’t, okay.” She snapped.

Diego nodded. “Nothing I do seems to please you now. Does it?”

Marcella dropped her head. “I’m over thinking everything. I can’t explain it.” She rose ignoring his hand and walked out. He quickly fell in step with her, taking her hand. She didn’t want to hold his hand but as they moved through the elite crowd she softened and stayed close to him. By the time they were seated in the car the things that had irritated her earlier didn’t seem to matter. Diego ignored her silence, and drew her under him. Eventually she snuggled the warmth of his embrace.

“
It’s okay Marcella. We’ll figure it out.”

“
Why do you like Operas?” she asked. Not expecting a direct answer.

“
I lived in Italy. It’s there I learned to appreciate them.”

Marcella lifted her head. “You lived in Italy? Where else?”

“
France, mostly Spain and Colombia.”

“
Oh. That seems exciting. Which do you prefer?” she said thirsty for some details on his life.

“
I’m beginning to think Port Delgado is the best place on earth, because of you.” Diego’s smile barely reached the corners of his mouth. Then as the car moved he began to talk. She let him speak and concentrated on extracting the nuggets of truth buried in the casual conversation. So, he had lived in Italy. He had closed a business there and decided to stay. He spent more time on his boat on Lake Cuomo than actually in his villa. He liked to sail. His fondest memories of his childhood were sailing with his father. She asked about his father and he decided to tell her a story about a swim with a shark that nearly cost him his life. Then he steered the conversation from the past to the present. Diego wanted to own a vineyard because they reminded him of the coffee bean fields in Colombia, his in Spain were his pride and joy.