CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Lo
Arturo drives us home in the wee hours of the night and he carries Axl to bed. My poor baby is so hopped up on drugs that he calls him daddy. We both freeze, but Arturo ruffles his hair the way Gabe would and says, “Night, Axman.”
I can’t watch it anymore. Gabe should have been here. He should have been here for his son, and instead he was what? Hooking up with some random girl, ignoring my calls?
I head out to the living room and begin clearing away the evening’s uneaten dinner from the dining table. Arturo comes up behind me and removes the plates from my hands, setting them back down on the table as he takes me in his arms. Sadness, fear, disappointment, and anger all war within me. A tidal wave of angst that I have no idea what to do with, so I sob into Arturo’s chest.
“Come, mi corazón. It’s been a big night for everyone.”
“He should have been here,” I sob.
“He should have, but there is nothing to be done for it now.”
“Why wouldn’t he answer my calls?”
“I can’t answer that.” Arturo shakes his head. “Go get into bed while I clean this up.”
I shake my head and reach up to cup his face. “No. I want you to take me to bed.”
Arturo’s brow furrows. “Now? I’m not sure you really mean that.”
“I do.” I lean up and kiss his lips. “I want you in my bed, Arturo.”
He pulls me closer, his lips slanting down over mine and squeezing my ass. I open my mouth to him, letting him slip his tongue inside. I moan into his mouth, feeling desire zing throughmy veins, right to my core. Arturo walks us backward, down the hall, and into my bedroom where I yank at his shirt, popping all of the buttons in my haste. I slide my hands beneath the expensive wrinkled cotton and slip them over his shoulders. He grips the hem of my T-shirt and pulls it over my head, I stretch my arms up and let him remove it completely. I unfasten his belt and shove it out of the way as I unbutton his expensive suit pants and slip my hand inside. He’s rock hard, and I move my hands desperately over his flesh, needing to feel him inside me, needing to feel something other than this heartbreak and terror and desperation.
Arturo grabs my wrist and stills my stroking. “Slowly, mi amor. Where is the rush?”
“Fire.”
His brow creases. “What?”
“Where is the fire, or what’s the rush?” I grin at him, finding it so fucking endearing that he mixes the two up all of the time.
“After ten years, my English is still rusty.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to correct you. I actually like your little faux pas,” I mutter, and then I bite my lip. “They’re cute.”
“Cute?” Art’s eyes narrow. “I am not cute. Handsome, perhaps, exotic, but not cute.”
I press my lips to his and I lose myself in his kisses once more. My hand is still on his dick, and I pump my fist around him as desperately as I had only a second ago, picking up right where we left off. My pussy is aching, and I squeeze my thighs together to try and ease the hunger.
He groans and pulls me away, effectively slipping my hand out of his trousers. “I’m not going anywhere, but neither will our lovemaking if you don’t slow down.”
“What?”
“I am only human, Lo. I can barely control myself around you as it is. But all of this will be over before it can start if you don’t stop touching me.”
“Sorry. I just. I need ...”
“I know, mi corazón.” He tenderly cups my cheek, but his soft gaze hardens in an instant and my stomach performs a cartwheel. “Take off your clothes.”
I do as he orders, stripping out of my jeans and boots and setting them aside. He watches all this with a fire in his eyes and then he removes his own clothing, slowly. Methodically, setting each piece down as if he respected it. I swallow hard as I watch him.
“You wish me to fuck you, yes?”
I nod, unsure my throat can even form words.