Angelina was no angel. Stuck at the plantation in the middle of a sticky summer, among banana trees, mosquitoes and Cuban cigars, she looked out of the open doorways that shielded her from intruders by iron bars. “Fuck, I’m in a prison”, she mouthed off to herself.

Sweat beads had formed a long time ago on her body. Now they just moved from one place to another, sliding down her flesh the way she wished Carlos’s tongue would. She moved her fingers across the iron, listening to the low toned noise they made while vibrating, and sighed. Then she slapped her arm. “Damn mosquitoes!”

Angelina walked over to the vanity basin and poured what was at one point cool water into the porcelain bowl on top of the mahogany dresser. The antique mirror reflected her long, thin torso and bare breasts. She bent forward to splash the tropical warm water on her face in hopes of cooling off or at best, to wash off the sweat beads that kept tickling her face.

She looked up into her reflection in the aged and cracked mirror, and gasped. Angelina quickly turned around to face Carlos.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” she said.

“I can see you’re as nude as always.”

“I thought you liked me that way,” she responded.

When he placed a cigar in his mouth, Angelina weakened at the sight of his rough exterior: scuffed face, sweaty hair, over worn white suit and loose tie. His green eyes reflected tropical desires; her pussy dripped its moisture.

“I do like you that way, Angelina,” he said with a cocky tone in his voice, left hand in his pocket and eyes dancing up and down at the sight before him.

Angelina nonchalantly walked up to the worn antique chair not far from the dresser that faced the plantation view. Her high heels echoed within the stonewall bedroom. She spent the morning sitting there, staring in the distance, hot and annoyed at her inability to leave the grounds - much less the country - as she sweat boredom off her lean body. When Carlos walked out on her at the party the night before, she was sure to never see him again. Bastards those Cuban men are. It’s part of that Latin blood stuck in the penis too long, then exploding with confidence.

Angelina moved the chair to face him and sprawled herself in as sexy of a position as she could. Bare breasted, shimmering with sweat, her necklace danced between her cleavage when she leaned back on the arm rest, right arm extended on the back of the chair, one leg draped over the other arm rest and the other leg lengthened out to her side. Only her black panty hid what she knew he came for.

“It’s fucking hot in here,” she said, leaning her head backwards and arching just enough for her torso and breasts to lift. She heard him sigh.

“Yes. It’s warm.”

Angelina’s head shot up. “Warm? No. It’s hot. Fucking hot…and exactly how long do you plan on keeping me prisoner here anyway?”

“As long as I must,” he said, walking towards her. She got a whiff of his cigar smoke – a scent that made her want to get down on her knees and suck him. Her pussy tingled in momentary delight.

“ 'As long as I must',” she repeated. “That’s not a good enough answer. I can’t just sit here in this room, bars on the windows, getting eaten up by bugs and do nothing all day.”

“Then do something,” he said.

Angelina rolled her eyes. By this time holding her sexy pose on the chair took conscious effort. He wasn’t responding to her usual sensual tactics but then, it was in the middle of the day. Vampires only come out at night.

“I can masturbate only so many times, Carlos,” she said, hoping to stir his blood. He laughed and kept walking around her as if he were studying the pose she held or pondering his next move.

“You’re a woman. Masturbation does not expire, does it?”

“We have our limits too,” she replied. “Besides, my pussy gets lonely when it’s just in the company of my own hand.” He stood behind her and she leaned her head back to look at him as he towered over her. Then Carlos bent forward as though to kiss her.

“Whose hand would you like the company of?” he whispered. A drop of his sweat fell upon Angelina’s lips.

She closed her eyes tasting the salty potion his body produced, unique like the thrusts he offered in the past.

“Who says I’m looking for ‘handy’ company? I was thinking of something a little bit more…long…firm,” she said with a question tone at the end, as though asking if he knew what she wanted.

He stood straighter and continued walking around the chair.

“ 'Long and firm',” Carlos repeated. “Ah-hah!” he exclaimed snapping his fingers. His dick pressed against the back of the chair as he leaned close to Angelina’s face. “I can go into town and get you a vibrator. You should have asked before.”

Angelina managed a “fuck you” smile as she watched him continue walking around her. “Is there a reason you’re acting so stupid with me?” she asked.

“Stupid? Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh! Get off it, Carlos. You’re making your point. You’re pissed off at me.” Angelina began to straighten herself up to sit on the chair properly when he interrupted her.

“No! Don’t move. Just sit there and let me look at you.”

“See something you want?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. Angelina’s heart sank for a moment.

“I want something I see,” he said. Angelina’s ears perked and her eyebrow lifted. “Same thing”, she whispered under her breath.

“Show me what you do here in this barren room all day when I am out working on securing your freedom. Hmmm?” he said, bending down before her, his firm hands clenching her face. His eyes swirled like the winds of a hurricane but deep in the middle there was a calm oasis. That is all Angelina saw. She let her guard down.

Her hand moved down her abdomen, underneath the laced panties he preferred she leave on. She felt moisture among the strands of trimmed hair hidden from view and while she might have mistaken the wetness for perspiration, as her fingers slid lower between her folds, it was dampness from desire that allowed her finger to slide deep into her.

Lost in personal temptation, Angelina felt lips pull on her nipples and knew she succeeded. Carlos was on his knees. She let him paint her with his tongue, soft strokes of his scuffed facial hair rubbed against her delicate flesh. Angelina just needed to keep him intoxicated.

Her hand moved up to stroke through his hair. She pulled and he sunk his face lower down her body. Angelina’s ebony locks were up in a bun but he unclipped it and grabbed a handful of hair. He pulled her head back unexpectedly and moved his face off of her body. Suddenly, his teeth bit into her neck as though he yearned for the blood that ran through her veins – pure, oxygen rich, ripe red blood. She screamed.

His hand pulled her panties to the side and his dick thrust into her as he pulled the leg that sat on the armrest over his shoulder. Her hands gripped the chair’s wooden frame. He pounded her insides. She looked at him, letting the reality of the moment enter her vision. He was lost in his instant of time, pulling and pushing ecstasy with his cock. Angelina wanted to feel his naked flesh, masculine muscles and Cuban hair on her skin and beneath her hands but he was still dressed in his Little Havana suit, infested with cigar smoke from the last night’s entertainment.

Angelina grabbed his loose tie and pulled him closer to her. Their kiss was awkward between his thrusts and the leg over his shoulder began to hurt. “Angelina,” he whispered.

“Yes, Carlos. I am here,” she responded, drunk from his potion, enslaved to his masculine control.

“Yes, it is I, Angelina. Your fuck slave.”

He pushed harder several more times with increased speed before he wailed a submissive, pleasured moan and collapsed on her salty torso and bare breasts.

Angelina smelled his Cuban aroma and realized she kept herself captive within the compound. The dense, tropical air gave a false sense of safety like that of a hurricane’s eye.

“Tomorrow there will be one more,” he said, recovering from his orgasm.

“One more what?”

“Man.”

When he left the room the winds began once more. Unable to move into safety, she repositioned her body on the chair, facing the open doors with bars on them before masturbating once more. It was her only escape from a reality she liked to complain about for the attention. It kept him coming back with provocative ways to entice her.