Luciana Vega reclined on her bed, desperate to rid herself of the headache that had been plaguing her all day.
She was horny. That was her fucking problem, or more precisely, her non-fucking problem, and for now, at least, there was not a damn thing she could do about it.
Her husband had been incarcerated for more than eight years, and his parting words to her had been typical of the guy.
“Sleep with another man, baby, and I’ll make sure you wear a smile that really does go from ear to ear!”
Yeah, Hector was a real charmer! And what was more, while she now ran the cartel in his absence, making it better and more profitable than he’d ever done, she knew that even now he kept a close watch on what she did.
He had spies watching her almost every move, that was for sure, and despite the fact that she had quietly worked to eliminate all of the men who had been close to him over the years, he still managed to know exactly what was going on.
And even from his prison cell over a thousand miles away, he was still able to reach out and yank the chains whenever he thought she was getting too much power, or becoming too independent.
Bastard!
Ok, yeah, she loved him… had done ever since her father had all but given her to him as a nervous eighteen-year-old. But then, who wouldn’t fall for the guy? He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with a side of ‘scary murdering, psycho-motherfucker’ to add to his appeal. Hector was the kind of guy who had a girl creaming just by looking at her, and he knew it.
But he was still a bastard!
The worst part was that he had been a demon lover! He loved to take those little blue pills, and then fuck her every which way for eight or even nine hours.
If he hadn’t been so damn good at it, she would never have survived!
But that just left her even more lonely when he was incarcerated.
Lonely and fucking horny. All the damn time!
She glanced at the clock. Almost six. Thank fuck for that! Just ten minutes left until she’d be put out of her misery.
Luciana had discovered very early on that she still needed sex.
Of course, there was no way she could have a man in her bed, as Hector’s threat was very real. He’d have someone take a knife to her face and widen her smile for her without skipping a heartbeat.
She’d tried getting herself off using a vibrator and a dildo, but it took so damn long to get there, and was virtually worthless in giving her any real satisfaction. In the end, she’d all but given up on masturbation.
But then Luciana had had a genius moment of clarity.
Ok, it had started with a fall from a horse, so, not exactly a moment of genius or clarity.
But when Luciana had been advised by her doctor to get a regular massage to, ease the damage she’d done to her back, she’d employed a woman so as to keep Hector happy. That was when she’d had her Eureka moment.
The woman she’d hired had proved to be extremely proficient with her hands, and after six weeks, Luciana’s back problems had all but healed.
However, after getting to know the woman, and realising that she performed other ‘services’ for her male clients, Luciana had made the woman an offer she couldn’t refuse.
It hadn’t taken the woman, Marta, long to develop a proficiency with the vibrator, meaning that once a week, Luciana could at least get some satisfaction.
This wasn’t a sexual relationship, at least not one that anyone would describe as such. Marta’s focus was on what she did with the sex-toys, and she barely touched Luciana with her hands at all.
No, this was all about Luciana’s imagination, and the fact that she didn’t have to hold the toys herself. She could close her eyes and picture it was a man holding the instruments of pleasure, and thanks to Marta’s skill, she could get off twice, sometimes three times in the hour she was supposed to be having her massage.
If Marta had been shocked in the beginning by Luciana’s suggestion, the woman had never shown it. In fact, she had been almost sympathetic. How ridiculous was that?
It was obvious to them both that neither of them was a lesbian, but even so, they learned how to perform together silently, to get Luciana what she needed.
Marta had gone out of her way to learn how to excite Luciana, making it into a labour of love to get her employer off as often and as effectively as she could. Luciana guessed that for Marta, there was an element of job satisfaction in what she did.
Luciana still found it impossible to express her thanks to the woman for all she had done for her. So, instead, she paid her well. Very well.
Marta was probably the only massage therapist within fifty miles whose children went to private school, and whose husband could give up work to look after the house.
At the knock on the door, she glanced up. It was still a few minutes before six, and Marta was never early.
Still wearing her jeans and a blouse, she rolled off the bed and wandered to her dressing table, pulling a cigarette from the silver box there, and lighting it.
“Come in.” She called, annoyed to think someone was going to interrupt her when she was so close to getting what she needed.
The door opened, and Jesus, her husband’s piece of shit brother walked in, along with three of his men.
“I’m busy, Jesus.” She said angrily. “My back has been in pieces all day, and my masseuse will be here any minute to try and fix it for me.”
“Sorry to bother you, sister.” Jesus bowed his head by way of an apology, but Luciana knew his attitude was as fake as his use of the word ‘sister’. She was the only thing that stood in his way from taking over the cartel in his brother’s absence, so ‘sister’ was probably the ultimate irony when it came to name-calling.
“We have had a message come from our brothers in the south. Something I thought you would want to hear straight away.” He pulled a face which Luciana didn’t recognise.
He was obviously trying to convey some sort of emotion, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what it was.
Pain, maybe?
“Jesus, I’ve told you, I have an appointment in…” She glanced up at the clock in annoyance. “Ninety seconds. Spit it out, would you?”
Jesus held his hands wide and shrugged.
“Sister, there is no easy way to say this, so I’ll just, as you say, spit it out.” He grimaced. “It’s your father, my dear. He’s dead, God rest his soul.”
Luciana’s breath caught in her chest, burning a hole through her ribcage in an attempt to escape.
Her father was invincible. Was powerful beyond belief. Was healthy as a horse!
She managed to exhale slowly, but her head was spinning with a million different thoughts.
She had to focus on what mattered. Not her heart, and certainly not her emotions. What mattered most was the position she had worked so hard to carve out and hold onto in her husband’s cartel.
Her father was a big part of the reason she held so much power. Nobody would mess with her when they knew they’d have both Hector and her papa to answer to.
Without him, she was vulnerable.
She’d have to work harder to appear more brutal. She would have to be more vicious and violent than she’d ever been, and boy, would that be saying something.
Her left hand stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, as the fingers of her right hand closed around the gun she always kept on her desk.
“How?” The word was clipped, and sounded loud in the silence, even though she’d barely whispered it. “How did he die?”
“He was murdered, sister. Shot many times in the face.”
The noise by the doorway interrupted the screaming in Luciana’s head. She just wanted it to stop. The screaming and the noise.
Without hesitation, she lifted the gun and pointed at the door, firing two shots without caring who was standing there.
The only two people she loved were her father and Hector. One was dead, and the other was locked up. What did any of it matter anymore?
The feminine gasp of breath brought Luciana out of her trance, and her head span around to see who had made the noise.
Marta stood leaning against the doorframe, staring at her in surprise, while her hands clutched her abdomen where her white tunic was rapidly turning red with her blood.
Without speaking, Marta slid down the wall, leaving a smear of deep red blood as she went, proof that at least one of the bullets had gone right through her stomach and out the other side.
Luciana couldn’t move, partly due to the shock of the news of her father’s death, but partly because she had just shot the one person who had been kinder to her, been more of a friend to her than anyone else in her adult life.
As Marta gasped her final breaths, Luciana turned to stare at Jesus.
“I want to know who is responsible for my father’s death.” She hissed. “I want to know his name, his address, and the names of anyone he loves.”
“Of course, sister.” Jesus nodded, heading for the door.
“Nobody else is to touch them.” She snarled. “I will take care of them myself!”
She watched as Jesus’ men picked Marta up and carried her from the room.
It was strange, but she didn’t feel in the slightest bit horny anymore!