Her forehead lifts, butting with mine. Before I inhale the intoxicating scent of sex, her hot mouth crashes over mine. Lips smash with brutal hunger. Tongues joust at war. Then she bites my lip, not enough to break the skin, but enough to initiate the first wave of an orgasm. The skin on my balls tightens.
Euphoria hits like a grenade with only seconds before detonation. It starts off as a zealous ripple and quickly rockets through me with an annihilating explosion. Somehow, it’s far more intense than the mind-blowing shower fuck.
She gasps on the precipice of her own eruption, then grinds one last time before letting go completely.
My dick pulses inside her, unprotected and expelling cum. I might be clawing my way out from under the weight of discipline, but I’m not that delirious. Not foolish enough to impregnate her.
That’s the vital piece of information I already know about her. After she plummeted into my life for the second time, I opened a dossier on Carina Ferreira.
While she slept in my bed, I bribed a high up medical professional to give me access to her files. It didn't matter that it was three o’clock in the morning when the call connected with the asshole. He owed me a favor and I was cashing in. Everything I needed to know was sent within minutes.
What I learned is that she was born with a defect on her lip. And was hospitalized for a short period of time as a teen.
Recently, she had an implantable contraception put in her arm. Bonus. She’s never had another sexual partner and I always use condoms. Which means I can fuck my naughty virgin until her inner walls are well and truly raw, and my cum spills out of her cunt.
And most importantly, she was telling the truth all along. My instincts were spot on. Security footage shows her leaving the bar with a trash bag and my father hitting the deck from a bullet. She didn't kill him—technically, I did.
She responds to my throaty growl with a full body shudder. Her thighs shake and her core convulses.
“Holy shit,” she pants, then pats her upper lip like she always does.
I notice every single time she does it without thought. It’s an act of either self-doubt or a grounding gesture. Either way, the subconscious tap gives her a vulnerable edge, even when I know the woman has prevailing strength. My teeth almost shatter with the measly self-restraint I muster, denying the currents of compassion tempting me to draw her into a hug.
The fact her fingers are decorated in blood should crank my temper to volatile. However, in this moment of peace together, with my semi-solid dick still buried inside her, my pulse thrumming, and the knowledge that the blood is mine—well, it fucking gets me off.
I’m a mess.
Sin incarnate, in every sense of the term.
It's an unholy melody sung by a choir of ugly gargoyles who contain my demons.
Such a warped arousal shouldn’t exist, yet it fuels my veins with a charge of mindless urges to fuck her all over again. When she fingers the buttons on my jacket, an angry erection fully fills her again.
“We’re here.” The driver parks behind the automatic gates, leaves the radio blaring, and exits without looking back at us. Marco knows better than to interrupt me. He’s seen my temper scorch the earth when blood covers my skin.
I could demolish her in the rear of this SUV for a second time. Grant myself the permission to seek gratification until I can’t breathe, but not today. We were under attack in the streets of Bogotá. The very city the Souza cartel rules with an iron fist.
News of my father’s assassination has ruptured the pecking order. My family is under fire and I will restore order. Rather than continue to indulge in the rebellious distraction sitting on my lap, I have to roll my sleeves up, stop at nothing to figure out who we can trust and who we will slaughter.
But most importantly, the main priority is to warn my brothers that insurgents are closing in. Danger is close by.
With painstaking control, I push her away with my good arm. Her hips elevate a fraction to allow my rock-hard cock to escape. It slaps onto my messy shirt tails, the tip glistening with a cocktail of cum and feminine essence. When she shuffles to the empty space beside me, her hand glides to the creamy goop clinging to the inside of her thigh.
Fuck!
If I continue to sit next to her, my willpower would split down the middle and my family would be at a higher risk of danger.
“Get out.” I force my painful erection into my trousers and zip it away. It's the hardest thing I’ve ever done. “You’re not allowed to set one foot past the gates of this property.”
In that second of separation, something flashes behind her searing amber eyes. A toxic mixture of seething anger or molten hatred. She knows I’m the one calling the shots and that doesn't sit well with her.
Quickly, without any hesitation, she snatches the edges of my jacket, cloaking her torso and drags the material over her chest. She doesn’t look at me before exiting the vehicle with the spirit of an energetic merengue dancer.
I take a steadying breath and drag a hand over my face. She’s both cursed and saved me at the same time. I’m no longer a slave to the nefarious memories when mylittle liaris riding my dick.
I groan loudly and burst into the late afternoon sun, barely controlling the urge to throw up or pass out from the pain of the gunshot wound in my arm. She stands by the trunk, hair disheveled, arms hugging her belly, and her chin pointed to the skyline.
It hits me like a rolling ocean wave. The need to take everything from her. To own her. To feed off the chemistry we've created and become the best version of myself ever. I’d become the legend Angelo claimed me to be.