The Millionaire’s Offer My Husband Let Me Accept

Carolina Méndez adjusted the earpiece behind her ear before the commercial break. The studio lights burned the nape of her neck like they did every night, seven years running. She was the face of the eleven o’clock news on one of the country’s most-watched channels, and no one in the newsroom knew that that very afternoon she had broken down crying in the bathroom without quite knowing why.

“Carola, we’re back in thirty seconds,” said the director’s voice in her ear.

She nodded without looking at the camera. A new assistant, with her hair pulled back into a tight bun, came up from the side of the set holding an ivory envelope.

“They left it at reception in your name,” she whispered. “They said it was personal and urgent.”

Carolina slid it into the notebook where she wrote down the guests’ names. There was no return address. Her name was written in dark, fountain-pen script, almost black. Her stomach tightened for a second. She managed to hold on to her smile until the closing theme played and the main lights went out.

In the solitude of her dressing room, she broke the red wax seal. The paper was silky, expensive. The note was barely four lines long.

“Mrs. Méndez, my son has been obsessed with you for months. I’m offering you one night with him. The compensation will be enough to change your family’s life. Absolute discretion. Sincerely, Eduardo Solano.”

The name hit her like a punch in the sternum. Eduardo Solano owned half the city center, the developer who had built the skyscrapers in the financial district. His son Andrés appeared in magazines every two months: very young, scandalous, with the crooked smile of someone who had never once had to say no to anything. Carolina crushed the paper until the corners wrinkled. It wasn’t the first indecent proposal she’d received in her career, but this one was different: the signature, the implied figure, the audacity of not hiding behind an intermediary.

She put the note in her bag. She made the trip home in silence, with the radio off and the red traffic lights seeming to last forever. When she walked into the chalet, Mateo was in the living room with a glass of wine and an open book in his lap. He looked up at the sound of her heels.

“You’re late today,” he said, without reproach.

Carolina didn’t answer. She walked to the sofa, sat down very close to him, and handed him the envelope. Mateo opened it slowly. He read it twice. The yellow lamp light shaped his jaw and a small tic at his temple.

She waited for fury. She waited for at least one sharp question, something that would give her the chance to tear up the note and forget the whole thing. What she saw was something else. Mateo set the paper on the glass table with the calm of a man who had just closed a good deal.

“Eduardo Solano doesn’t haggle when something interests him,” he said. His voice had gone down a register.

“Is that all you can think of?” she asked, and hated the roughness in her voice.

Mateo turned his whole body toward her. He put his hand on her thigh, over the fabric of her trousers. He squeezed with that steady firmness he always had, the same one that had made her fall in love with him fourteen years ago.

“I’ve been thinking for a long time that you’re bored with me,” he murmured. “Don’t tell me you’re not, because I know you. And this boy… I’m not going to forbid it. In fact, I want you to go.”

Carolina felt the air catch in her throat.

“For the money?”

“The money helps,” he admitted, almost smiling. “But that’s not why. I want you to go, fuck him properly, and come back and tell me everything. Word for word. I want to know how he puts it in you, how you come with him, all of it. I want to see the face you make when you tell me with your hand on my cock.”

Carolina stared at him, mouth slightly open. Without realizing it, she ran her tongue over her upper lip. Mateo noticed and looked right at her.

“That’s it,” he said. “You’re already getting your cunt wet just thinking about it. You’re going.”

***

Three nights later, Carolina was looking at herself in the dressing-room mirror. She had chosen a black silk dress that hugged her hips and lifted her breasts, and beneath it a red lace set she had bought that very morning in a shop she had never entered before. Her garter stockings drew a line along her thigh. She painted her lips a dry red, almost brown, and studied herself as if she were another woman.

Mateo appeared behind her in the reflection. He kissed the nape of her neck without touching her hairdo. He brought a hand around to the front and squeezed one of her tits over the dress, unhurried.

“You look incredible,” he said quietly. “Come back with your cunt wrecked and his come still inside you. I’ll be awake, waiting for you with my cock hard.”

The hotel was in the new district, one of those glass-and-marble buildings with the lobby scented with lilies. A bellboy guided her to the top floor without asking questions. When the suite door opened, Carolina knew there was no turning back.

Andrés Solano was younger than he looked in the photos. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. He wore a white shirt half unbuttoned and was barefoot on the carpet. He had that crude beauty of someone who knows exactly what he’s worth.

“Come in, please,” he said, stepping aside to make room for her.

Andrés’s gaze ran over her without shame, from her heels to her neckline. Carolina felt the skin of her stomach tighten.

“My father must really like you,” he remarked, closing the door. “Paying that much for one night is the closest he’s come to giving me a decent gift in years.”

“I’m not here for your father,” she replied, with a calm she didn’t know where it came from.

Andrés smiled. He came close enough to put a hand on her waist, very near, still not kissing her. He slid his hand down to her ass and squeezed it with both hands, pulling her against his bulge. His cock was already hard beneath his trousers, pressing against her hip.

“I’ve been watching you on TV at eleven for two years. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about what’s under your jackets?” he said, his mouth against her ear. “How many times I’ve come thinking about shoving my cock down your throat while you read the news. This, for me, isn’t a transaction. Tonight I’m going to fuck you like I’ve been waiting two years for it, because I have.”

***

The first kiss was anything but gentle. Andrés bit her lower lip and pinned her against the door. He smelled of citrus cologne and something older, like leather. He shoved his tongue all the way in, searching for hers, and at the same time hiked her dress up to her waist. He ran his fingers over the red lace. Carolina felt a gasp slip out when he discovered how wet she already was.

“Fuck,” Andrés murmured against her mouth. “You’re soaking. You were thinking about this before you came, weren’t you?”

She didn’t answer. She pushed his hand away and spun him around, shoving him onto the leather sofa in the living room. The panoramic window showed the city like a map of lights. Andrés sank back and looked at her, licking his lips.

“What are you planning?” he asked, amused.

“To make you take what you paid for,” Carolina answered.

She took off her heels one by one. She lowered the straps of her dress and let the silk slide to the floor. She stood before him in the red set, the stockings, and nothing else. Andrés muttered a curse and grabbed her hips with both hands.

Before letting him touch her, Carolina knelt between his legs. She unbuttoned his trousers without breaking eye contact. She yanked down his underwear and Andrés’s cock sprang free, hard, thick, the vein prominent. It did justice to the boy’s reputation. Carolina looked at it for a second, her lower lip between her teeth.

“Put it all in your mouth,” he said, his voice thick.

She didn’t need to be told twice. She took hold of him with her hand, licked him slowly from base to tip, and then took him into her mouth until the head touched the back of her throat. Andrés threw his head back and let out a long groan. Carolina began to suck him rhythmically, bobbing her head, pressing her lips on the way up, leaving a string of saliva hanging each time she pulled him all the way out. She sucked him while looking at him, enjoying the way his thighs tensed.

“Just like that, fuck, the way you suck it,” he panted, both hands buried in her hair. “You’re going to make me come in your mouth in three minutes.”

She took his cock out of her mouth with a pop and ran her tongue underneath, over his balls. She sucked them one by one while continuing to stroke him with her hand. Andrés was trembling. When Carolina took him back into her mouth fully, he had to pull her off sharply.

“Stop, stop, or this is over before it starts,” he said, laughing through broken breaths.

He lifted her off the floor and turned her around. He set her standing in front of the sofa, with her back to him, and pushed her by the shoulders until she had to place her hands on the backrest. Andrés knelt behind her and moved the lace aside. He licked her cunt from bottom to top, long and unbroken. Carolina spread her legs wider and arched her back.

He circled her clit with his tongue and slid two fingers into her at once, curling them upward, searching for the exact spot. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t like those boys who learn in a hurry: he had patience, rhythm, the attention of someone who has been listening to what each body asks for. With his other hand he squeezed one butt cheek, spreading her open. Carolina buried her forehead in the leather backrest. Mateo is awake, waiting, and that turns me on even more.

“I’m going to…” she murmured.

“Come in my mouth,” he answered against her skin. “Now.”

The first orgasm hit her standing up, gripping the backrest, her knees shaking. A cry escaped her and bounced off the glass windows. Andrés didn’t let go until she had to gently push his head away, oversensitive, her cunt still throbbing around his fingers.

***

After that he took her to the bed. The room was dark, except for a floor lamp in one corner. Andrés took off his shirt, his trousers. He was exactly what Carolina had imagined: a young body, marked, without scars yet, and his cock still hard, pointing at the ceiling. He ripped off her lace bra in one tug that sent the hooks flying. He bit her nipples one by one, first softly, then hungrily, until they were swollen and red.

He opened her legs and lay down on top of her. He rubbed his cock against her cunt, up and down, without putting it in, soaking himself with what she was still dripping.

“Tell me you want it,” he said, the tip brushing her entrance.

“I want it,” Carolina replied, and didn’t even recognize her own voice. “Put it in already.”

Andrés drove into her in one thrust, all the way to the hilt, and Carolina let out a guttural moan born deep in her belly. He stayed still for a second, letting her feel the thickness, and then started fucking her with a slow, deep rhythm, punishing every thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmured against her neck. “You can tell it’s been a while since someone fucked you like this.”

He took her as if he wanted to leave a mark, but every so often he stopped to find her mouth, to whisper absurd things in her ear that somehow made her even hotter. He changed positions without pulling out: turned her onto her side, lifted one leg over his shoulder, and plunged back in, reaching her from another angle. Carolina dug her nails into his back. She could feel every vein of his cock dragging along her walls.

“On all fours,” he ordered after a while. “I want to see your ass while I fuck you.”

She obeyed. She got on the bed with her head on the pillow and her ass lifted. Andrés positioned himself behind her, grabbed her hips with both hands, and shoved back inside with one hard thrust. He started pounding her hard, without care, slamming against her buttocks with a wet sound that filled the room. With one hand he grabbed her hair, pulling her back, arching her spine.

“Tell me your name,” he demanded, fucking her.

“Carolina,” she panted.

“Again, louder.”

“Carolina!” she shouted, her face pressed into the sheets.

At some point she realized she was saying Andrés’s name out loud, not Mateo’s, and that both parts of herself—the woman on the screen and the other one, the one who had been asleep for years—didn’t give a damn. Andrés ran a finger slick with saliva over her other hole, pressing only slightly, not going in, but enough to make her writhe beneath him.

He laid her on her back again. He held her wrists against the pillow above her head and sank into her once more. He looked her in the eyes while he was doing it, without looking away, and that fixed gaze was what finally broke her. The second orgasm came over her without warning, with him inside. Her cunt clenched around his cock in spasms that tore a cry from her.

“I’m going to come,” he warned, teeth clenched. “Where do you want me to put it?”

“Inside,” she said, and surprised herself. “Come inside.”

Andrés drove into her three more times, brutal, and buried himself to the hilt. Carolina felt the hot spurts emptying inside her, one after another, while he moaned with his forehead pressed to hers. He collapsed on top of her, sweaty, panting, and laughed softly against her neck.

“Tomorrow I’m going to have to see you on TV again,” he said. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it without getting hard live.”

“Find yourself a distraction,” Carolina replied, her eyes closed, feeling the cum start to run down her thigh.

They lay still for a long while. Then he put a robe on her and poured her some water. He walked her to the elevator without saying much, as if both of them understood that any promise would be pointless.

***

The dawn light came through the taxi window when she got home. She thought about taking a shower before going up to the bedroom, but something told her Mateo would want to smell her like this.

She found him awake, just as he had promised. He had the lamp on and a half-finished glass of water on the bedside table. The sheet covered him to the waist, but beneath it his hard cock was outlined. He sat up when he saw her.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

Carolina undressed in front of him without rushing. She left the red set on the chair. Before getting into bed she spread her legs standing up, so he could see her cunt swollen and still shiny with the other man’s come. A low groan escaped Mateo.

“It’s still inside me,” she whispered. “I didn’t clean up.”

She slid under the sheets. She kissed him long and deep, with the same mouth that had sucked Andrés’s cock less than two hours earlier, and heard Mateo’s breathing speed up. He found her hand and brought it to his cock. Carolina started stroking him slowly, gripping hard.

“It was intense,” she whispered. “More than I thought.”

“How did he touch you?”

“At first he just looked at me. Like I was something else, not the newswoman. That was what I liked most. Then I knelt down and sucked his cock.”

Mateo swallowed.

“And how was it?”

“Big. Thick. It choked me twice. I drooled all over his cock and he grabbed my hair so I wouldn’t take it out.”

“And after that?”

Carolina told him everything. She talked about the sofa, the window, the floor lamp, about how Andrés had licked her standing up until he made her come against the backrest. About how he had put her on all fours and pulled her hair. About how he had asked where to come and she had told him inside. Mateo listened with his hand between her legs, finding her wet cunt with two fingers. When he felt the other man’s semen sliding over his fingers, he let out a rough gasp.

“I’m still full of him,” she whispered in his ear. “Fuck me like this. Without cleaning me.”

“Did you come with him?” he asked, almost voiceless now.

“Twice. The second time with him inside, while he held my wrists.”

Mateo let out the air slowly. He pushed her onto her back and positioned himself on top. He looked into her eyes for a moment, as if searching for something, and apparently found it. He drove into her at once and immediately felt how wet, how full, how open the other man had left her. He started fucking her with a calm Carolina hadn’t felt from him in years, with every question turned into a gesture, listening to the details she gave him back between moans.

“Tell me how he put it in,” he asked, thrusting slowly.

“Hard,” Carolina panted. “All the way. He knocked against my ass and made noise.”

Mateo changed the rhythm, fucked her harder, imitating what she told him. He grabbed her tits with both hands and sank deeper. Carolina surprised herself by coming a third time that night, a small, long orgasm that ran through her belly like a shiver. When Mateo came, it was long and silent, emptying himself inside with his forehead resting on his wife’s neck, mixing his semen with what she already carried inside.

After that they stayed silent. Carolina stared at the ceiling. She felt a clean tiredness, without guilt, as if some old knot had been pulled from her chest and she still didn’t know what to do with the space left behind.

“Would you do it again?” he asked, very softly.

Carolina thought about it. She thought about the amount on the check Eduardo Solano would have sent her the next morning through a discreet courier. She thought about Andrés’s face when she had walked through the suite door. She thought, above all, about how Mateo had looked at her when he handed her the envelope, before deciding what they were going to decide together.

“I don’t know,” she said at last. “Ask me again in a week.”

Mateo nodded in the dark. He slipped an arm around her waist and drew her close. Carolina closed her eyes, knowing the question would keep floating through the house for a long time, and that this was perhaps the real boundary they had crossed that night.