𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 67: 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 — 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

Nevena’s eyes flickered to him.

What she saw there was dark and dangerous.

She swallowed thickly, unable to tell if it was a joke— until his voice came again.

This time, his control snapped completely, like a weak wire.

“I said get in.” His fingers nudged her arm, just slightly.

Fear made Nevena stumble. With weakened knees, she slipped into the back seat.

Antonio leaned into the car and reached toward her. She flinched immediately—hands flying up to cover her face, as if protecting herself from a hit.

He hated himself instantly.

But it was too late to regret.

He fastened her seatbelt and slammed the door shut, hard enough to rattle the frame.

Circling fast to the driver’s side, he shoved the key in. The engine growled to life, rain pounding like war drums on the roof.

Junior, already wrapped up in his seatbelt, shook water from his curls in playful flicks.

“Buddy, look,” he whispered, giggling. “We’re soaked! Bestie’s hair is the worst.”

Antonio didn’t respond—his fingers locked onto the steering wheel.

He drove fast, controlled.

Eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror every few seconds.

She just crouched her head, brooding, water dripping off her like she’d been carved straight out of the storm,

Junior yawned mid-complaint… and within minutes, slumped sideways, fast asleep.

—

By the time the engine quieted in Nevena’s driveway, the rain had dwindled to a drizzle.

Antonio parked, then unbuckled with one sharp move.

“Go in — I’ll carry him,” he muttered, opening the door.

Before he could circle to the passenger's door, she was already running up the walkway.

“Junior!" He called softly and tendering swooped him in.

The little boy snuggled in deeper, completely unaware of the storm inside the adult carrying him.

Antonio slammed the front door behind him the second he entered the house.

Water still dripped from his clothes, his boots sticking to the tile.

He went straight to the bedroom and changed Junior into dry clothes, and tucked him under the blanket.

When he turned back, the demarcating curtain was up and Nevena was there —wringing a mop, still soaked, blouse clinging to her shape.

He stood, watching her clean.

She noticed his eyes on her, and paused too.

Despite knowing that she was unsettled by his gaze, he didn’t break eye contact.

He just kept staring at her like a drowning man who finally spotted land.

She lowered her mob slowly — unsure of what she was doing wrong.

For a long second— the house fell quiet, only the rain ticking against the windows.

Then as if hit by a stray thought, she moved toward the cabinets and pulled out a crisp white towel.

“You… you can use the bathroom, while I get your clothes into the dryer.”

She stepped past him and dropped the towel on the nightstand and turned to leave.

But he caught her wrist — just two fingers, gently.

Her instinct whispered danger, and it made her knees buckle, adrenaline coursing through.

“Nevena…” Her name escaped him like a prayer request.

“Forgive me if I… missed something?” she shrieked.

“No.” He hushed her, pulling her in — not roughly, his chest pressing to her back.

Rainwater dripped from both of them onto the tiles.

He inhaled sharply and let the breath out over her neck.

“You must have freaked out by my attitude earlier.”

She nodded, her breath unsteady as he turned her to face him.

“Nina… look at me,” he rasped, fingers brushing her wet hair.

She slowly lifted her gaze, heart pounding— but she met completely different eyes. Ones filled with certainty and maybe remorse.

He rested his forehead against hers, voice gravel-soft.

“I shouldn’t… I really shouldn’t…” He whispered apologetically. “I never meant to be abusive. I swear. I was just worried.”

Nevena broke into tears.

The ache of trying to understand a man who kept everyone at arm’s length.

“Nina,” he breathed, guilt twisting through every word. “Don’t cry… I’m sorry.”

She nodded, but her shoulders still shuddered.

He brushed his thumb over her cheek and lifted her by the thighs.

Now level with him.

His tongue found the curve of her throat —slow, teasing—stealing her breath piece by piece until her shudders turned into soft, shaking moans.

Reciprocated moans pushed them further into the moment. Antonio unbuckled his belt and yanked her blouse low.

His eyes glistened with hunger as the perky boob came into view. Unhesitatingly his free thumb reached for the pointy peaks.

She jolted as the reaction shot through her like electricity. His thumb crossed her nipple for the first time.

The small, tightened peak grew even harder under his touch, as if it recognized him before now.

He lowered his head, lips wrapping around the sensitive bud, his tongue flicking slow… teasingly and cruelly patient.

A sharp inhale tore from her lips and her hand flew to his hair, fingers gripping helplessly as he suckled harder.

The sensation was too much—sharp and soft, pleasure folding into pleasure.

Breath crashed out of her in a soft, helpless sound she couldn’t swallow back.

“Antonio…” she gasped, thighs tightening around his waist.

He hummed against her nipple—one low, vibrating sound that shot straight through her and made her moan louder.

Just when the world narrowed to only the sensation of him on her hard nipples—

His phone rang. Loud and insistent.

Antonio froze for a beat, breathing hard against her skin.

He didn’t reach for the phone, nor pull away.

He stayed exactly there— his tongue pressed to her breast.

Overwhelmed with ecstasy, he continued sucking.

The phone rang again, this time she pushed him slightly on the chest.

“Mr Hunt,” she whispered, still breathless, “you… should answer.”

Slowly, like a predator forced to acknowledge a threat, He dragged his gaze away from her tits and toward his pocket.

“Of all the damn times…” he groaned against her skin.

She let out a breathless laugh, still trembling in his arms.

Painstakingly, he retrieved the mobile and answered— not looking at the screen, because he already knew who would be calling at a time like this.

“¿Qué?” he barked into the phone, not even lowering her.

“¿El Don te busca?{The Don seeks you},” a rough voice answered. Grinch.

A vicious curse tore from Antonio’s lips.

“¿Por qué? Estoy haciendo algo importante. {Why? I’m doing something important}”

“Palooka — necesitas encabezar una entrega. El Don insiste.{Palooka —you need to lead a delivery. Don insists}”

Antonio exhaled hard, frustrated.

He looked at Nevena— raw hunger and promise.

“We’re not done,” he murmured.

He lowered her to the floor, grabbed the towel, and stalked toward the bathroom. “I’m coming right back.”

Then back to the phone: “Hazte cargo tú — bastardo,” {Handle it yourself — Bastard}” he growled.

“Y a menos que alguien se esté muriendo, no me vuelvas a llamar {And unless someone is dying—don’t call me again}”

He hung up and threw the phone into the sink basin, before hitting the shower.