Page 20 of Forbidden War (Forbidden 2)
MARCO
As I stormout of the winery, I’m equal parts horny as fuck and conflicted about what I just said—and did—to Karina. But fuck it. She had her chance and she blew it.
When I pass a tray of champagne flutes, I grab two and toss them both back. Aggravation and adrenaline mix with the alcohol, but it only serves to fuel my lust. Stalking the edges of the party, my gaze tracks over the crowd with laser focus. Jessica’s a wildcat. She’s not the type to leave an event early. She’s got to be around here somewhere.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been this wound up inside. But I know myself all too well, which is how I know that attempting to cool off without a physical outlet isn’t an option for me. And there’s no better outlet than going balls deep, working out my frustration one jackhammer thrust at a time, until there’s nothing left but a soothing, glorious numbness. Sex is like a drug for me, something I crave almost as much as the euphoria of racing.
I was born to fuck. It’s not something I’m going to give up. Not for Karina, not for anyone. Which is too bad for her, because I have every intention of getting laid tonight, and if my wife isn’t going to do it then I’ll find someone else.
And I know the perfect someone else.
Impatience has me on edge. Karina’s probably making her way back to the party by now, if she’s not looking for me already. Then again, I’m sure she’d likely just as soon spend the rest of the evening pretending that I don’t exist. Her loss.
Still, I know how to cover my ass. Spotting Frankie in a chair, I beeline to her and make up some excuse about having to duck away with an investor, adding that I’d appreciate her and Dante escorting Karina back to the house once the festivities are over. Frankie, as usual, is happy to help me out. She starts to gush about how much she likes Karina, but I can’t listen to it. I mumble something about time being money, like the asshole I am, and dive back into the fray.
Weaving through the mingling partygoers once again, I catch a whiff of gardenia and follow the trail of familiar perfume. It’s heady and sweet, the cloying floral scent Jessica wears when she’s on the prowl. My old flame never was one to be alone for long. She busies herself with whatever random rich men she can grab in between her trysts with us Bellantis. And she is relentless in her pursuit of us. I wonder if Armani has given in to her, too, or if he’s remained a hell of a lot smarter than Dante and me? Armani might be a brick wall of detached stoicism, but when it comes to Jessica, you can never be too certain.
After my messy break with her last go-round, I should know better than to chase after her again. But there’s no harm in one more quickie, right? We’re both consenting adults. I’ve always been entirely straightforward with her about our relationship, or lack thereof.
She watches me approach now, the curve of her smile saying she knows I’m about to pull her away from the nobody she’s talking to. Tossing her head back, Jessica subtly reaches a hand toward to me as I approach, all too eager to let me snag her wrist and yank her along behind me. Her heels clip loudly on the paving stones as I make a quick detour and hustle her toward the Bellanti offices.
“I wondered when you were going to come to your senses,” Jessica purrs as I punch in the keycode. “Didn’t take long.”
“Shut up.”
The second the door opens, I shove her into the lobby and push her up against the wall, kicking the door shut behind us. Cupping her face forcefully between my hands, I drag her up for a kiss. She meets me willingly, her lips parted and ready as I crush my mouth to hers. The tips of her sharp nails claw at the fabric of my shirt and rake burning lines down my spine. My skin reacts with a hard shiver, and not the pleasurable kind. This is all too familiar, this sense of being devoured, the hollow detachment and tinge of disgust at myself mingling with urgent animal lust. No matter. I need to push all thoughts from my mind.
Kissing her harder, I race toward the adrenaline rush that impending sex always provides. Her firm breasts push against my chest, her ass curving perfectly in my hands as I draw her against me. It takes an extra second for my body to react to the feeling of her. Jessica and I have had some fun, but I never took the time to get to know her that well. I wouldn’t know the feel of her body from someone else’s in the dark. Touching her was more a necessity for getting off than for learning what turned her on or exploring every inch of her.
Grinding against me, Jessica stabs her tongue along mine, moaning like it’s the best feeling she’s ever had. She’s always been great at putting on a show. Now, she huffs impatiently.
“What’s wrong, Marco? This isn’t like you.” She fondles me through my pants, raising a brow. “You want me to work for it, huh?”
She drops to her knees, snagging my zipper on the way and lowering it. Then she tosses her hair to one side, licking her lips while undoing my button. My cock twitches, but that’s it. I’m barely aroused. There’s no instant hard-on, no ache. Not like when I’m with…shit.
Come. On.
Grinding my jaw, I will myself to relax and close my eyes, anticipating her hot little mouth wrapping around my dick. Glancing down, I shake my head. The hair color is all wrong.
A blip of confusion strikes me. Jessica’s fingers slide down the front of my briefs and my pulse ticks up, but the anticipation—and any hint of a possible erection—is gone.
Moving back, I snag her hand and draw her to her feet.
Fuck this. I’m going to get what I need, dammit.
Jessica gasps as I pull her to the reception desk and sit her on it. She works the hem of her skirt up to her hips and lets her thighs drop apart, giving me a view of a strip of black satin, the tiniest scrap of fabric separating me from her cunt. That satin will rip easily with one hard pull—
Reaching for the waistband of her panties, I stop mid-motion as if someone has pulled me from behind. My fingers flex as I stare at Jessica’s body, my breath coming hard, almost frantic, but I can’t bring myself to touch her. Nothing could seem less appealing to me in this moment.
What the hell is wrong with me? I should be fucking her until the desk breaks and both of us are grunting and moaning like porn stars. Just like we used to.
But I can’t do it.
Jesus, I can’t do it. I step back quickly, surprised by my urgency to get away from her. There’s not a single thrum of desire in me. The only thing I can think about is…
Karina.
The memory of her scent wafts through me like a ghostly mist, heightening my need to get out of here. Jessica’s body feels all wrong. She smells wrong. She tastes wrong.
She’s nowhere near as sweet as my wife.
My. Wife.
Karina’s body is soft and curvy and feminine, her pert breasts the perfect size for my hands when I cup them. Her skin is like silk, supple and smooth, laced with her intimate scent that I can’t get enough of. And the way I can so easily read the sheer, helpless pleasure on her face when I’m working her body or pumping into her…it drives me near madness. I never knew a woman’s inexperience could be such a turn-on. I get to teach her everything. And all the while, I get to watch her enjoy the carnal knowledge I’m sharing.
Whereas Jessica is toned and tight and beautiful, confident in her sexual prowess…but that in no way compares to the gratification and bliss I find in Karina’s body.
“This isn’t going to happen,” I say flatly.
“Oh, come on.” Jessica pouts as she slides off the desk. “It happens to the best of us. Let me help you get in the mood. I can fix it, baby.”
I laugh. She thinks I’m having performance anxiety. She can’t even grasp the idea that I might actually not want to fuck her.
“I’m good,” I say. “Fix your clothes.”
