Pain and Pleasure by Callie Vincent

9

Esmeralda

We'rein his stone bath, a few hours after we woke up and fucked right back to sleep.

When I awoke again, he ate me until I saw stars and then carried me to his bathroom. Now we sit in his large stone tub, bodies pressed together as the water warms us.

My head is against his chest and he's running a wet washcloth up and down my legs, cleaning me thoroughly. I find that I like him caring for me a lot more than I care to admit. It makes me feel cherished, adored. Things that I find I may enjoy more than the ever-present desire that he makes me feel.

It's silent, the morning stretching calmly around us. I decide to test my theory, the one I have about us using arguing or fucking as our main source of communication.

"So Oscar, he's your brother…"

The washcloth freezes on my leg, I feel a tensing in his arms, but it's both small and fleeting. He chuckles at me.

"That's not a question. It's a sentence that I know has more parts to it, so continue."

I bite my lip, choosing my next words carefully. I don't want to ruin this peaceful moment between us, this common ground that we've somehow fallen on and stabilized ourselves within.

"Why does he try to out-man you? Has it always been a pissing contest between the two of you?" I've probably struck a nerve, but he surprises me as he chuckles again.

"You're too bright, pequeña. Too intuitive for your own good."

He drags the washcloth from my legs to my breasts, circling the swells and making my hips raise in response. He's literally fucked all of the energy out of me, but he always finds a way to renew it with his touch once more.

"It's been a pissing contest since my birth. My brother is a well-educated man, frightening and determined in his own right, much like our father."

He pauses for a moment, as if to reflect on something before continuing.

"But he's hot headed and impulsive, two traits that do not go hand in hand with our business. It's why I've taken over the majority of our ties since my father's passing."

I want to dive deeper into Oscar and his relationship, but I decide not to. The mentioning of both his brother and his father changes his demeanor and it's easy to pick up on. The slightest tick of his jaw or tensing of his muscles let me know whether the conversation will be going in a good direction or not. And in regards to those two men in his life, all physical movements point to a not so good direction. So I divert.

"When I went into your room the first time, I noticed there was a picture of you and a woman standing together. Who is that?"

I try not to sound jealous, but I can't help it. He notices and smooths my hair back, biting at my exposed earlobe and causing a yelp to fall from my lips.

"That's my younger sister, Gabriela. She's back at our family estate in Columbia, probably maxing out her credit cards as we speak."

He rubs a frustrated hand across his face and it makes me smile. I can tell she's a hellion who gives him trouble. It makes me like her even though I don't know her.

"And your mother...is she…"

"Still alive? Yes. Though since my father passed, she travels a lot. We really only see her once a year, twice if she decides to visit for the holidays."

I turn and look into his eyes, appreciating him sharing so much with me even though most could chalk this conversation up to small talk. With him, I gave him an inch and he took a mile. It's enough to keep me quiet, my lips trailing over his bicep as his arms wrap around my breasts, pulling me against his hard cock and ceasing all conversation once more.

* * *

It's late afternoon on Monday and I sign off from the last of my online classes for the day, closing my laptop in exhaustion. A knock sounds at my door and I perk up, eager to see if it's Dante, but falling short when it's my mother.

I shouldn't get excited to see this man, but I can't help it. Every thought of him quickens my pulse and makes those stupid butterflies come back into my stomach, twisting me in knots from the inside out. He's an addiction, this man. An addiction that I worry I'll never be rid of, an addiction that I know I'll never admit that I have.

My mom walks into my room, smiling at me as she sits next to me on my bed.

"How was your first day of classes?" she asks. I realized that this is the first time my mother's ever asked me about school.

"Stressful, but day one of my last semester is down." I smile at her, trying to offer her some kindness, maybe a peace offering after the years of war we've endured with one another.

She nods and smiles awkwardly, sitting on my bed in silence as if she doesn't know what to say next. I feel sorry for her almost. She's been facing her demons with a sober mind for almost a month now, and it must be one of the hardest things she's ever had to do besides raising a child that she didn't want. Besides living with the constant reminder of her abuse.

"I'm proud of you, you know," I croak out, breaking the silence as she peeks up and stares at me. Her eyes are wide and confused.

"There's nothing to be proud of, Emmie. I'm just trying to right my wrongs. However, I don't think there's enough time in anyone's life for me to do that. For me to repair all the damage that I've caused…"

She sniffles and I set my hand on her knee, squeezing it gently.

"You're doing what you can, Mom. You're trying and that's all I care about. I just want you to keep trying, to never stop trying."

She stares at me for a moment, and I see tears form in her eyes, but she pushes them away just as quickly as they came.

"It just hurts to try, you know? It hurts to remember. All the damn time. That's all I do. I wake up, I remember, I ache and then I go back to bed. Maybe mop some floors and remembering."

That's her attempt at cracking a joke and I realized that she's never done that before. She's never really spoken a full sentence with me before unless it was something to do with money or needing something from me. I smile at her and she returns it, her eyes crinkling. I can see the lines on her face growing and stretching, her age accelerating from the years of drug use.

She's a beautiful woman and I know if she would've taken care of herself better, maybe never met the monster I have for a father, she'd still have her youth and beauty. Now, she just looks tired.

"Isn't that what life is? Remembering and still choosing to move forward? To make more memories to look back on. Maybe even replace them with the shitty ones."

I think of Dante when I say the last part. I think of all the dark moments we've had since knowing one another and how they're slowly getting replaced from those quiet moments of passion that we've shared. My mom scoffs in response.

"I guess so. I guess that's all it will ever be."

She slaps her hand on the bed and gets up, walking towards the door.

"I just wanted to see how your day was today. I know I have never really cared or shown my interest in your education, but I'm proud of you, Emmie. I'm proud that no matter what life throws at you, you still keep moving without a thought."

She gives me a small smile and heads toward the door, but I stop her before she can open it.

"Life's not just about memories, mom. It's about love too, if you'll let it."

She nods at me, her small smile stretching as she walks out of my bedroom and closes the door behind her. I put my laptop on my nightstand and get up to stretch, my limbs deliciously sore from both last night and this morning. My stomach growls in hunger and I realize that I haven't eaten since last night.

As I walk down the staircase, I head towards the direction of Ricky's bedroom when I hit the main floor. I knock on his door a few times, expecting an immediate response when it comes to him, but find that I am only greeted with silence. I open the door and walk inside, searching for him but coming up short. His room is large like mine, but his bathroom and closet are no comparison to the grand scale of my quarters.

His closet is filled with a wide variety of clothing, all in different colors and materials. I spot a few of the custom-made pieces he created during the many semesters of fashion school. This man really does have a talent and it sets him apart from many other designers out there in the world. He's always loved color and has never been too shy to play with it, you can see it in his pieces. My stomach growls again, disrupting my nostalgia.

I walk down to the kitchen and grab leftovers from last night, heating them up in the microwave as Javier walks in. He looks at me with an appalled expression and I freeze.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" he asks me, disgust lacing his voice. I am utterly confused and point to the microwave as if he's blind.

"Heating up leftovers, I'm starving." I explain.

He walks to the microwave, opening the door and grabbing my food before throwing the contents of my plate into the garbage can. My mouth widens in exasperation.

"Javi! What the fuck was that about?"

He shrugs and walks to the oven, pulling out a freshly baked tray of empanadas. My mouth immediately starts watering as he sets one on a plate, gesturing for me to sit down across from him at the counter.

"If you're hungry, then eat real food. Not chicken remains that are fried from radiation."

I roll my eyes at him as I cut into the dough on my plate, all but shoving down the empanada within seconds. Of course he wouldn't approve of a microwave, he's a five-star chef.

"Why even have a microwave in the first place?" I ask him as he plates the rest of the beef filled empanadas.

"I guess it came with the floor plan," he says with distaste. I laugh and finish my food, gulping down a glass of water and thanking him.

"Do you know where Ricky is? I stopped by his room, but he wasn't there."

He sets the plate in the center of the counter before going to the fridge to gather ingredients for what I guess would be tonight's dinner. I wonder if he ever does anything besides cook.

"He's at Marianne's store for the day. She mentioned that he'll be back right around dinner. I suppose that would be soon."

I nod and hop down from the bar stool, feeling bored.

"Do you need any help with dinner tonight?"

He shakes his head and smiles at me.

"No. And I wouldn't let you help even if you tried. You had your first, full day back at school. Why don't you go relax before it's time to eat?"

I sigh and stick my tongue out at him, loving his laugh as it trails behind me when I leave the kitchen. I walk towards the library, in hopes of finding a book to pass the time. It's late afternoon so I figured that Dante is probably working, plus I don't really want to be the nagging girl that clings to him after a night of passion.

The library is warm from the lit fireplace, and I decide on the classic tale of Beowulf, pulling the old copy from the shelf next to the fireplace. I take a seat on the couch and lose myself in the book for about an hour before I hear commotion coming from the direction of Dante's quarters.

I freeze and wonder if I should walk in the direction of his quarters, but I know already that that would be a bad decision to make. He's a leader in one of the most high-profile cartels in the world, and he could have a number of things going on behind his closed doors, but still I find myself worrying for him. Something that I am sure is very stupid, but also uncontrollable.

I set the book down and walk towards his bedroom, putting my ear up to the door to find the source of commotion. I hear muffled chatter and shuffling around before the door pulls open. I rear back immediately and am greeted with a very uncomfortable sight.

There, standing before me in a tight white dress, is the dark-haired beauty from Dante's party the other night. The one who caressed his chest and got him to smile at her without even trying. Jealousy seeps through my stomach and leaves through my pores. I stand there in silence as she eyes me up and down, with Dante standing behind her with confused eyes.

"Ah, so here's the toy you've decided to play with."

Her voice is breathy and beautiful just like the rest of her, but it is filled with venom and I don't miss its sting. I feel small in the presence of this woman, but I try to stand tall, refusing to look like the side piece she claims me to be. Refusing to look weak in the presence of both of them.

She approaches me and stands a breath away. Herr eyes are a shade of golden brown and they are unique just like the rest of her. She smells of rich perfume and I realize that the only hair on her body is the full set of lush, brown waves on her head.

"Dull," she utters. One word whispered out to all of us, but pertaining to me.

"Call me when you're finally bored of her, again." She eyes me once more before walking away, leaving Dante and I in an uncomfortable silence.

Again? What the fuck does that mean?

Dante stares at me, not moving or saying a word.

When will this shit show with him ever end?

I shake my head at him, holding a hand up in defense as he finally tries to move toward me. He says my name, but I ignore it as I walk away, swiping angrily at the tears that are now falling from my eyes.