Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(60)

I reach her mouth at that instant, devouring her lustily. The urge of my desire to possess her is unbearable. I lift her dress, completely uncovering her legs. I squeeze them tight. Her skin feels so smooth and delicate. I spread them wider and notice she’s not wearing anything underneath. I grow harder at the sight of her pussy; my mind’s going wild. I need to be inside, to fill her completely, to give her the pleasure I imagined in Rome, make her body sweat and tremble like she has never felt before.

I push my pants and boxers down, then nibble on her bottom lip, her chin, before sucking her neck again.

“Ahhh…” she moans, lifting her pelvis. Damn. I hear her moaning. I reach down, bring my cock to her opening, and thrust hurriedly inside. I groan, feeling her for the very first time. She’s so drenched, so narrow, so warm, my heart feels like exploding and my breath comes out in short gasps. She squeals while I strike deeper. I have to shut my eyes at the intensity of our pleasure, at the intensity of having her, her love, her moans begging me to go faster and harder—she seems so used to the feel of me. She’s so damn expressive, so liberated. “Ahh… Faster! Ahhh!” She cries out while I’m pounding into her, in and out. My eyes drop to her mouth, wide open, then to her flushed skin, all sweaty and messy… God, she’s so beautiful with my cock inside. The view takes my breath away. At that instant I feel the urge of my orgasm, and my strokes become more insistent as I bang her as hard as I can. “Cum inside me,” she whispers. “Please, cum inside…” she repeats in a dirty voice I’ve never heard before.

“Oh, fuck, Petra...” I’m totally drunk. Drunk on her. I shut my eyes at the euphoria of the moment, give one last deep push, and, between heavy groans, finish in her.

She reaches for my mouth and pins me with a long kiss while I remain inside, enjoying her warmth.

Then we look at each other with the exact same tenderness and twinkle as in Rome—it feels like nothing else matters. Just us. After all, I’m her husband. And she is my wife.

I wake up with a jump, totally startled. I’m exhausted, sweaty, shaking between grueling breaths. While sitting up in bed, I look around. My bedroom is empty. There’s no one but me. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Four a.m. Jeez! I brush some strands of hair from my face, take a deep breath in, and exhale. What a nightmare. I go to the bathroom and take a quick, fresh shower. I grab new boxers and a pair of ripped jeans, then go to the bar area in the living room. There I take a glass, three ice cubes, and pour some Macallan. I haven’t smoked a cigarette in years. Probably twenty or more. But I always have a pack hidden somewhere for guests. I take one out, put the filter up to my lips, and light it. Taking the first puff feels good. With my glass in hand and my cigarette between my fingers, I drag myself to the terrace, pacing around while idly observing skyscrapers and streetlights spread across the city. Even at four a.m., Manhattan is noisy and full of life. I need help. Urgently. I take another inhale before throwing the cigarette away, head back inside, and start searching for that business card. I find it on the hall table and add her private number to my WhatsApp. It’s decided—I’ve got to be with this Rafaela before Rio, before I can see Petra again.





Alone in my office, I’m happy the meeting with Singapore went well. Focusing on work is vital to forgetting her. There’s one more thing I have to do. I take out my iPhone and make a call. “Hi, Rafaela? Alexander Van Dieren. How are you? Enjoying New York?” My face softens with a smile. “Glad to hear it. Look, I’ve been thinking about our conversation from last night…” I laugh at her words. “Exactly, how to keep ourselves young. What do you think about having dinner tomorrow, eight p.m.?” Yesss. I clench my fist in victory. “I’m glad to hear that. Perfect, I’ll text you the address. See you soon, bye.” I hang up.

I can’t help but beam with joy. I’m finally getting my emotions and feelings back in control.

Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door.

“Mr. Van Dieren? My apologies for the interruption. Andrew Sullivan is here. He has a meeting with you at two p.m.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure.”

Andrew walks forward, stepping into my office.

“Mr. Sullivan.” I stand up from my chair and go to shake his hand. “How are you doing today?”

“Very well, Mr. Van Dieren, thank you. And congrats on the meeting with Singapore. I heard the negotiations are moving along well.”

“They are indeed. If everything goes well, we should sign the acquisition by November twenty-fifth. It’ll be a big expansion.”

“I’m glad to hear. Um, I have here the reports from all the interns.” He hands me a file. “I also put in my recommendations for hiring, in case you are interested.”

“Great,” I reply, going back to my chair, my eyes already glued to the first page.

Andrew sighs, feeling his presence is no longer required, and walks with head down in the direction of the door. “Mr. Sullivan?”

“Yes?” Andrew spins on my voice.

“What do you think about hiring Jess?”





I want to be irresistible tonight. I feel like breathing again, excited, like a kid playing a game I know perfectly. Rafaela and I will be having dinner at Asiate—a delicious fine-dining restaurant with a great sommelier and an extensive wine selection at the very top of the Mandarin Oriental. It offers sumptuous panoramic views of Central Park and beyond. I’ll need wine, a lot of wine. But once I’m half tipsy and with such a beddable Brazilian blonde in my arms, the rest of the night will go just fine. Rafaela will probably jump on me first. That’s what I like about those women—I don’t even need to make the first move. They know exactly what they want and are confident enough to serve themselves.