Love Takes Your Breath Away Page 2

  These two alpha men have a history of trying to one up each other with the amount of attention then can attract…be it opposite or same sex. Of course, the same sex came out when Sebastian did. There’s no doubt that both of these men were blessed by the gods themselves. Where Diego is this sculpted mass of muscles and flawless flesh, Sebastian is lean and toned with chiseled abs. Both inked, looking ever the beautiful canvases when wearing next to nothing.

  Ignoring Diego’s megawatt smile, I skip the distance between Sebastian and myself and leap into his arms. Wrapping my legs around his narrow hips, I squeeze him like we didn’t just see each other less twelve hours earlier.

  “Bazzy! Where have you been all my life?” I cluck out. Placing a less than chaste kiss on his lips before he can answer. I can feel it before I even see his face: My greeting isn’t helping his situation with his junior man candy. Setting me down in a huff, his already exaggerated pout has gone full Monty.

  “Frizzy, you know you don’t have the equipment I’m interested in,” annoyance evident in his tone and the use of that awful nickname.

  “Diego, tell me why we keep Sea-Bass around?” I ask looking in Diego’s direction.

  “Excuse me…”Sebastian interrupts. I keep my eyes on the man in front of me.

  Continuing before he can interrupt me any further, “I mean, really, he’s no Bobby Flay.” In my best posh voice, “Why the chefs at IHOP could do just as well as Bazzy with our breakfast.” There may be a bit of a whine when I say this last part.

  It takes all the muscles in my belly to contain the silent fit of laughter. I haven’t looked to see the result of my verbal jab at the expense of Sebastian’s incredible culinary skills, but by the expression on Diego’s face and the slight shake of his head from side to side, I’ve twisted Bazzy’s britches and he’s about to untwist them on me.

  “Looky here, Miss Posh…”

  “Missus, sir.” I whip around to face him, keeping my prim and proper façade in place.

  But before he can retort, I’m laughing hysterically. Through labored breaths, I manage to grab a hold of Sebastian. “Sebastian, you know I’m kidding. You’re the greatest, most awesomest and hottest chef on this side of the Mississippi.”

  “Atlantic,” he interjects.

  “I stand corrected. On this side of the Atlantic. Now what are you making me for breakfast?”

  I see Sebastian roll his eyes before I turn back to Diego. Making my way to him, I perch on his lap, stealing the mug of coffee from his hand. I take a sip of what I personally deem to be liquid gold. Eyes shut, I sigh softly.

  “Well Miss Thang, excuse me, Missus Thang,” exaggerating his correction. “Your dashing husband has requested your favorite, Huevos de Sebastian.”

  I choke on the coffee I’ve just sipped. My reaction giving the boys something to laugh at. “I’m sorry, when did your balls become a favorite of mine? IHOP is sounding better and better.” I’m pouting.

  “Untwist yourself, bitch. It’s Eggs Benedict with a Baz flare.” He gestures to his wait staff to finish setting the table.

  There are four place settings.

  And a knock on the door.

  “Bella, you should get the door,” Diego says, his lips hovering above the crook of my neck. He presses a light kiss and sets me on my feet. With a swat to my ass, he pushes me toward the door.

  There’s another knock. I look back quizzically at Diego. He just shoos me away.

  I’ve reached the door and…holy shit. “Senorita Santo,” Mazzy says butchering the Spanish language with every flick of her tongue. “Give me a hug you old married woman.”

  Ladies and gentleman, my bestest friend in the whole world and soul sister, Mazzy Kidd. She’s the ying to my yang. Where my hair is a dark brown, nearly black, hers is a golden blonde with streaks of blue, purple, and green falling in a mass of perfect ringlets framing her face and draping the length of her back. My eyes a honey brown, hers a turquoise blue. Where I’m short and tiny, she’s tall and full-figured.

  “Mazzy, you bitch! What are you doing here? I thought you had to leave right after the ceremony?” I’m shocked. Truly. We cancelled dinner with the besties, because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other and Mazzy said she could hop an earlier flight home. Yet, here she is, smiling at me like the fucking Mad Hatter. “Okay. What the fuck is going on? All y’all better start explaining.”

  “Untwist yourself, bitch,” sauntering her way past me towards Tweedle D and Tweedle Dum. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  After giving Mazzy a big ol’ hug, Diego walks towards me.

  I catch his eyes and I unconsciously take a step back. The hungry look on his face and the way his eyes are stalking me, I’ve forgotten the huff I was just in. Rooted where Mazzy left me speechless, Diego does his trademark public display of affection, dipping me so low I’m nearly parallel with the floor, he places a tender kiss laced with desire on my waiting lips.

  Swooping me up into his arms, he leans in to whisper, “I’d tell ya, but then I’d have to kill ya.”

  In a couple of quick strides, we’re at the now fully set table complete with what appears to be freshly squeezed orange juice and more liquid gold. Diego winks and sets me down in my chair.

  I let out a forced huff, but I can’t help the excited grin the promise of a surprise elicits. Add breakfast with two of the most important persons in our lives other than each other and this is definitely a win-win in my book. Nothing could have made our wedding more special as Mazzy and Bazzy being there. Inwardly chuckling at the recall of Sebastian’s insistence that Elvis not be a part of the wedding, I think Diego and I may have chosen the Elvis route just to piss off Baz.

  Diego clears his throat shaking me from the clouds. Crap. This getting married biz has me easily distracted. Or maybe it’s just him. I redirect my attention to the guests at the table and I realize all eyes are on me.

  Nervous, I look down only to discover Sebastian’s culinary art has already been served. Looking beyond delicious, I continue to ignore their taunting stares and dig in. Like traditional Eggs Benedict, there’s a poached egg with a slice of ham and hollandaise sauce. The Sebastian twist is the addition of sliced avocados, tomatoes, and a salsa verde.

  “Ohhhh myyyyy gaawwd. This is heaven on an English muffin,” finishing with a throaty moan.

  “So is that what she sounds like Diego dear,” taunts Mazzy. That bitch.

  “That’s nothing compared to the sounds I get her to make,” deadpans Diego.

  What the fuck? I choke on my coffee, “I’d like to get at least one sip – one sip, that’s all – of my coffee down without choking.” Leveling them all with a look that could kill, I continue, “And if it weren’t for the fact that this breakfast in front of me tastes as good as last night’s rumble in the sheets felt, I’d be pissed at each and every one of you for keeping me in the dark.” Reminding them I haven’t forgotten they’re keeping secrets.

  I wouldn’t really be pissed. They know that. If there’s one thing I love, it’s a good surprise.

  “You think that’s good, wait until tonight,” mumbles Sebastian.

  A jolt of the table and its contents alerts me that Sebastian may have given something away and Mazzy’s giving him her foot to halt any further slipups.

  “Izzy love just enjoy the day with your new husband. The only thing you need to do is put on that fabulous dress we picked out last week at the cute boutique on Sunset by…hmm,” she’s having an ocular conversation with Baz and Diego. God this is getting old. After a set of shared nods, she proceeds, “By six o’clock. Think you can handle that, sweets?”

  Diego adds, “I’ve got us a private cabana reserved with your favorite bottle of champagne waiting for you this afternoon.”

  “Whatevs. Just so long as you three know,” I make a point of looking at each of them, “I will have your asses if it’s not close to the best damn surprise I’ve ever had.” I’m joking and they know it. They’re all laughing at my ridi
culous attempt at threatening them. “Y’all know I love you, right? And in case I forget to say it later, thanks.”

  We carry on through the rest of brunch, chatting about this and that. The three of them so careful to keep whatever they’re scheming to themselves.

  I beg Sebastian to give me the recipe for breakfast. When he still refused, I threatened to find a recipe for a hollandaise sauce and a salsa verde and make it for guests passing it off as something he taught me to make. That did the trick. Before the plates were cleared, I’d secured a promise from Baz for his recipes.

  Chapter Two:

  Breathless

  I’d forgotten my sunglasses, so while Diego is waiting in our private cabana, I went back to the room to get them. The quiet trip to and from our room has me mulling over our conversation as we got dressed for the afternoon poolside. As a result of our discussion that the appropriate coverage of my bikini did not change simply because we were married, I discard my cover up in favor of showing off the bikini he loved just yesterday.

  Stepping into the private cabana area, the pair of young men sitting in the pool has the desired reaction to my bikini-clad body. Cat calls and whistles galore, they've attracted the attention of my very hotheaded husband. I stifle a chuckle and struggle to maintain an unaffected look.

  Drawn out by curiosity, Diego is peering from around the sides of our cabana. I recognize the message he’s trying to deliver with just his eyes. Fucking moo-moos from now on. Recalling his threat of the full-coverage garments, I suppress yet another chuckle. My Kate Spade sunglasses are a good cover for pretending I didn't "get" the message, but they do nothing for the smug look on my face. I catch the boys turning to see what, whom I'm smiling at.

  The moment recognition hits their faces is evident.

  That's right boys. That's Diego Santo former starting left midfielder for San Diego FC.

  I can no longer hold back my amusement. A chuckle slips and in two quick strides, Diego is a breath away with a look of mischief and lust.

  He sweeps me around into his signature display of ownership and belonging. His lips linger for a split second before he's asserting his claim on my heart and body. My head is in a daze. His tongue makes quick work of leaving me breathless. I faintly register cheering behind Diego.

  He breaks away and pulls us up. I cling to him, needing a moment to shake off the fuzzies and gain my wits...what's left of them anyhow. As he turns to face our star-struck audience, he twirls me behind him. I let go a silent chuckle. He's got to be kidding. What's he hiding that they haven't already seen?

  "What was it you punks were saying about my beautiful bride?" I can't see his face, but I'm certain it's his "don't fuck with me" face with his left eyebrow slightly lifted in a challenge.

  I step around Diego.

  By the somewhat petrified looks on the boys' faces, it's clear they can't tell he's fucking with them. I elbow Diego in the side. My not-so-subtle clue that he's let the joke go on long enough.

  Relaxing with a chuckle, Diego squats to eye level with the young men. They proceed to ramble off barely intelligible apologies, tripping over their tongues and talking over each other.

  “Sorry boys. That one is mine,” he claims, gesturing with his thumb in my direction. "Plus, if you're going to land the hottest woman on earth, you're gonna need better material than fucking whistles and sorry-ass one-liners."

  Ohhhhh, great. My playboy turned one-woman man is going to give lessons on picking up women to these almost men. I can hear it now.

  As entertaining as it sounds, I think I'm going to sit this one out. I believe there is a beautiful flute of Cristal Rose waiting for me and an Ace or Muff I could read about.

  I take a seat on the lounge with the full-view of my Adonis-like husband’s backside—gah, I love the way that sounds—and his newfound protégés. I look to the heavens and shake my head. This man does not need a bigger ego.

  Bringing my head back down, and the impromptu playboy master class into sight, I realize they're all staring at me. The boys blush and quickly turn their attention back to Diego. With that "wouldn't you like to know" face that includes his gorgeous smirk, Diego continues to tell the boys the rest of his story.

  I grab the bottle of my favorite bubbly and carefully poor myself a glass. The perfectly chilled sweet bubbles are a welcome refresher in this desert heat. It’s slightly warm even for late May.

  Not that I should be hungry, but the prosciutto wrapped cantaloupe prepared by Sebastian is begging for my attention. I turn to look at the full not-so-mini spread provided by Baz and I’m flabbergasted. Every item here is a favorite of mine. There are pepinos de Sebastian – thick slices of cucumber soaked in a lime wash sandwiched around a chunk of queso fresco sprinkled with ground chili pepper, bruschetta with sourdough chips, and chocolate covered cheesecake balls. Unable to resist, I grab a chocolate covered ball of bliss and pop into my mouth before I continue to load my small plate.

  So wrapped up in taking in the small arrangement of delectable edibles in front of me, I fail to hear Diego’s approach and startle at his soft touch. I know it’s him. I can feel it. He leans in to kiss the space between my temple and the corner of my eye. With that simple gesture, it’s like he’s pushed a button and my body is instantly leaning into him. I’ve forgotten about the small plate I started to make myself.

  With his left arm snaked around my waist, he pulls me back and down to the lounge. He’s now positioned himself to my right and propped up on one arm. Running the side of his free hand down my side and back up, he stops where the loose strings to my bikini top are resting. “Didn’t I tell you this was going to be trouble?” and with a quick tug I can feel the barely there triangles of fabric relax as he’s just untied half of my bikini.

  Continuing his slow perusal of my body, he drags his hand up to the back of my neck. With another quick tug, any semblance of support and coverage from the bikini is gone and my breaths are being robbed as my heart accelerates. I’m speechless.

  Our location has set in and I work to cover myself for fear of passersby. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he chastises me. Stilling my hands, he further prevents my claim of modesty and decency. “Weren’t you the one this morning showing the ladies off? Now that we’re all alone,” I register he’s shut what qualifies as doors to the private cabana, “you’re going to pay up, Senora Santo. Quiero que lo es mío.” I want what is mine.

  His words have me heated…and squirming. The skimpy bikini top is no longer a part of the situation. My wiggling sent it to the floor of the cabana.

  Intertwining his fingers with mine, Diego brings my hands above my head. “Now, Izzy,” leaving his left hand to brace both my wrists while his right travels down the side of my face to the space between the swells of my breasts. I arch my back up pressing my chest into his hand. “The question isn’t, what am I going to do to you,” mischief playing in his eyes, “it’s, what am I not going to do to you?”

  In a crash, his mouth is on mine and his hand dives into the bottom half of my bikini, deftly maneuvering into position for maximum pleasure. With the swirl of his tongue, he stifles the cry I let out as he plunges two of his fingers into my wanting pussy. But just as quickly as he started, he stalls. His fingers resting against the walls of my sex, his kiss now slow and tender, my head is dizzy from the difference in extremes. I shift ever so slightly, trying to hit the spot that would have me on my way to satisfaction.

  Not missing a beat, and preventing me from my task at hand, Diego slings his right leg across my hips and stomach. I groan, the weight of him sending a fire to my core. My pussy is now dripping with evidence of just how much this man owns me…every part of me.

  Breaking our kiss, Diego repositions himself, straddling my legs. His fingers start to pump again at a slow and steady pace meant to drive me insane. It’s working, the buildup has a dizzying effect on my consciousness.

  “Mi amor,” I hear Diego whisper, “you need to keep quiet? Can you do that?”

 
Unable to form a coherent word, I simply nod. Biting down, I stare into the eyes of a predator. He’s eating me up with just his stare.

  Pulling his fingers from my pussy leaves me with a void and an ache that is demanding release. Now between my legs, Diego removes his board shorts and positions himself kneeling before me. Mesmerized by his gaze, only now do I realize he’s managed to remove my bikini bottoms, untying the sides when I couldn’t look away. He lifts me to straddle him the tip of his cock a hair trigger away from setting off the powder keg that is my sex.

  I want him. I need him.

  He slowly lowers me, filling me at a painfully unhurried pace. When he bottoms out, I lose it. He’s set every one of my nerves to high. The ripple of pleasure that flows through me has me pitching myself forward and throwing myself back only to be caught by Diego’s chiseled arms. He captures my right nipple between his teeth and I strangle a scream when I hold my breath.

  Diego keeps us like this for what seems like forever. Letting me ride out the instagasm his dick causes. I can feel my pussy pulsing around him, the pressure of the pinch of his teeth increasing.

  With controlled movements, Diego begins to circle his hips, reaching into the very center of my core. The teeth on my nipple replaced with his soft, wet lips, a flick of his tongue. I don’t catch the low moan that escapes my lips.

  His now swirling tongue is matching the rhythm of his hips. I can feel my next orgasm building. His tempo quickens. My breath catches as he switches breasts, whatever control I had has been eradicated.

  I’m tumbling over the edge of ecstasy, my body writhing in the unrelenting aftershocks of my climax. Diego, not letting up on his punishing grind, looks at the end of his rope. A couple more pumps and he’s tumbling over with me. Free falling into the abyss of our climaxes, Diego settles us on the lounge, kissing me fiercely.

  Chapter Three:

  Distractingly Stunning