ROSIANNA
“Yes, baby. Oh...yes...!” I cried out louder as the guy thrust deeper into me. Fuck, it felt so good.
The guy spanked my big ass as he impaled me harder with his big cock. I would have told him not to spank me, but I was so deep into the fucking, I ignored him.
I was feeding my addiction. I didn’t really have a choice here.
“Aww fuck,” he groaned, rubbing my clit before his sneaky fingers went much lower, as he plunged into me from behind, over and over.
I could feel my body tighten. My release washed over me as I cried out. I saw stars as it catapulted my body into a whirlwind of sweet pleasure. His groan reached my ear, and his body shook over mine as he found his own release.
I got up after and walked naked to the bathroom without a backward glance. I took my time washing up, not giving a care in the world if my visitor left. I wish he would. It’d make things a lot easier.
An hour later, I came out and was relieved when I saw an empty room.
I didn’t even know his name.
I didn’t care.
I never did.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Rosianna Bells, and I’m twenty-four years old. I own a small but successful textile company, so you can consider me a rich woman. I am addicted to sex. That is the hidden me.
To the outside world, I was a rich, businesslike woman that barely smiles at the opposite sex. People respected me out there in society—which I deserved, by the way. I was what you could consider cool, reserved, and collected. But in the inner world, I was just a sex addict who couldn’t function without regular sex; I’d been that way since I was eighteen. I slept with different guys every few days.
Nameless. Faceless. All I wanted was their dicks. The orgasm they could give me.
I know you’re judging me but save your breath. I don’t care what you, or anybody else for that matter, thinks.
No one has a right to judge me. No one.
Dressed in a well-tailored business suit, I walked into my two-story building of a textile factory the next day and came to a stop at the commotion in the office.
On an average day, everyone organizes themselves and does their jobs perfectly. “Guess this is not a normal day,” I muttered. They were all in a group, murmuring whatever gossip they had going for them.
“What’s the commotion about?” I spoke loudly, my brows knit in a frown.
Gasps broke out. They all turned in my direction, eyes wide, and the groups scattered immediately.
“What’s going on?” I repeated, already feeling dread because of their behaviour. It was very unusual.
One of my employees started to speak when, all of a sudden, the door to my office opened and a man walked out of it. I froze when I saw who the man was.
This must be a dream, a bad dream. There’s no way he’s in my office right now. It must be a hallucination of some sort.
“Rosy, darling, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you not glad to see me?” the man’s deep voice inquired.
That voice...
My body shivered, and my knees went weak. Oh, God in Heaven, he is real.
Santos Rome Hathaway. Even after six years, I’d recognize the voice of my uncle’s adopted son anywhere. Santos and I didn’t see eye-to-eye. We’ve always disliked each other. Always.
We were always fighting. Always arguing. Always quarreling. Santos Rome could be a real jerk sometimes.
It didn’t help that he was very handsome, and women fell all over him. He was a well-known and renowned playboy. He left the country six years ago, and I had already made peace with the fact that he would never return—that I would never set eyes on him again.
Santos was the one man on earth I swore never to have sex with. It was a vow I planned to keep until the day I took my last breath.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, composed. When did he get back to town, anyway?
His eyes made a show of sliding all over her body, caressing like a lover’s touch. “I came to see my beautiful sister,” he drawled provocatively.
“We are not related.” I didn’t know why I always felt like pointing that out.
He shrugged in a way that said, “That’s not the point.”
We were drawing attention already. Unwilling to create a scene, I walked past him and headed straight for my office, leaving him to follow. I prayed he didn’t follow.
I wasn’t surprised that he did.
Santos followed me into my office and lowered himself to a chair without waiting for an invitation. I was aware of his eyes on my back as I walked confidently to my chair and sat down too. I stared at him without speaking.“You've grown into an exquisite woman. You were pretty the last time I saw you, but you weren't this gorgeous. Your curves filled out too,” he said in that lazy drawl that never ceased to send shivers down my spine. The compliments fluttered me up inside, and I felt my vagina clench. My fingers tightened on the paper I was holding to keep from jumping him. Closing my eyes tight, I took a deep breath to get myself back together again. I could stomach being attracted to all the men on earth—it was something I have resigned myself to a long time ago—but being sexually attracted to Santos could never be okay. Not anymore.“You don't look so bad yourself.” I was glad my voice remained controlled.“Glad you noticed,” he smirked.“Why are you here, San? Stop sidestepping
All dressed up, I pulled out the three different-coloured pills I took occasionally and stared at the little drugs that had become a part of me for a long time.Red one is contraceptive. White one is a soothener.Brown rubber one is a sex hormone depressant.Three pills that cost a fortune—because they were pills without side effects. Pills that were quite necessary in my life. I threw them into my mouth and drank water to push them down.Ready to go, I picked up my bag and headed out. I was still beating myself up for not getting Santos to pick a location right there in my office as I drove to his home. A big mistake on my part.“Come to the house, Rosy,” he'd drawled. “Don't tell me you've forgotten how to get here.”I hadn't, but I didn't tell him that. My hesitation was because I knew Santos was the only person in that house, and when Santos was alone at home, he'd be busy. The manwhore.That house also held great memories for me—memories I buried years ago and had to try harder
ROSIANNAI'd done something stupid. I'd done something really stupid.Why did I have to enter the room? I should have stayed outside. What gave me the impression that I could pull it off like I did when I was eighteen? I was no longer eighteen. I was not that sweet little virgin anymore. No, I was quite the opposite. So, why the hell did I enter the room, and worse, allow myself to sit through it?My whole body was on fire. Every little part of me. I needed relief and I needed it quick, or I’d break down right in front of Santos. It was the one shame I'd rather die than go through in front of him.“Rosy? Are you alright?” he drawled, not really concerned but amused.“You're a first-class bastard, Santos,” I whispered, my voice almost shaky and hoarse with the strength of my anger and desire for that man.He chuckled softly and walked away from me to the bed and started folding the sheets. “We've already established that long before I went abroad.”My pussy clenched. I felt shaky on th
I didn't stand there after Santos walked away. Instead, I walked—staggered—my way out of his bedroom, my body shaking. For the first time in a long time, tears filled my eyes because of what happened when I was eighteen.Jason, that bastard. Oh, God, that bastard!The cool air that hit me outside didn't help my arousal one bit. “Where's the nearest club?” I asked a woman I met just outside Santos's compound. I thanked God that it was dark. The woman couldn't see my tears.“Just down the next block, my dear,” she answered before she continued on her way.I was deeply shaking as I made my way to the club—both with the arousal gnawing at me and the accusations Santos had just made. At the front door of the club, I dried my tears. With my chin lifted, I walked into the club, sidestepping slow-dancers, avoiding looking at couples making out. It didn't take long for men to stare at me. I'd long ago made peace with the fact that men found me very attractive. It was something that was a curse
SIX YEARS AGOThe next morning after Santos told me that he'd be travelling, I woke up feeling like shit. I felt lovesick, and already I was missing him.It was true we fought more than we talked, but I'd always felt a powerful emotion wherever he was concerned. I always let it out through antagonizing him, and he gave it right back. My aunt adopted Santos when his parents died in a fatal car accident. He was twelve then, and I was just six. He was so tall, and I was small. Even then, we never saw each other as family. Just as pests in each other's butts.Quickly, I got up from the bed to go shopping. I had to get my mind off his journey because we'd already said our goodbyes the day before.My mind went back to the way we said goodbye, and I felt my cheeks heating. I raised my hands to my face, smiling secretly as I went clothes shopping. Later, I hung out with my friends.But the hours seemed to stretch endlessly; time wasn't moving as fast as I wanted it. The thought of his depart
“It's been three hours, Jay. That girl is in a lot of pain right now,” Kain said, his eyes trailing behind his agitated friend.“I didn't know that she was going to be that stubborn. It's been three fucking hours!” Jason was angry. He had expected Rosy to start begging for it immediately when the drug entered her body—just like every woman that had ever taken the normal dosage of that drug. It angered him greatly that he had overdosed Rosy, and yet she refused to give in! She refused to beg!“Santos will have our heads if he ever finds out about this,” Kain said, the fear in his voice apparent.Jason was also terrified of what Santos would do, and that was why hadn’t made a move on the girl. Kidnapping Rosy had been a spur-of-the-moment decision that he didn't regret. He was just so angry that Rosy was making it difficult!“You still have that camera, right?” Jason directed at Marde who nodded his head.“You'll only take pictures when I'm the one fucking her and her face is glazed ove
THE PRESENT.I pushed the painful memories to the back of my mind, where I had buried them for the past six years. I walked to the wine cabinet and took out a bottle of red wine. I poured it into a wineglass, the night wrapping around me like a cloak. “You shouldn't think about the past,” I slowly admonished myself. The house was too quiet as I walked to the sofa and lowered myself onto it. My parents only knew that their daughter was kidnapped for two days and came back a mess. They didn't know the details, and they didn't know my kidnappers.Even after two days, and finally at the hospital, I still wanted more. My legs were rubber, my body a giant bruise, my vagina bruised from the inside and hurting like hell. Still, my body demanded more.Till today.At the hospital, after the doctors had done everything they could, one of them had looked at me and my mother with pity. “I know a lot of date rape drugs, and a lot of aphrodisiacs, but this drug in her system is one that hasn't bee
SANTOSBefore the end of the week, I concluded that Rosy was avoiding me. She was suddenly not there when I went to the office or when I came to her home. I figured she was avoiding me.Like I could ever allow her to do that. That woman has haunted my dreams so many times it had become natural—even when I tried everything I could to forget about her in Paris and move on.I mean, would you still have the hots for a woman that slept with your best friend the same day you travelled after professing her love in a loving way the night before?It was a loaded question, but it was a meaningful question, nonetheless.Till today, I still regret one thing. I should have taken what she offered me six years ago instead of trying to be a goddamn honorable man—and to a woman who didn’t deserve it at all.That little sex clip of her and my best friend—former best friend—that I watched nearly destroyed me years ago. There was no doubt Rosianna enjoyed every bit of it—and she was asking for more. I ha