CHAPTER 8
A strange look crossed Lucia’s face. It was such a fleeting twitch Tate wondered if he’d imagined it.
“Are you okay?” He cupped her cheek, searching her beautiful brown eyes.
She stared at him, stared at his lips. Then she attacked his mouth in a bruising kiss.
Fuck, he was primed for it, had spent the last few minutes warring between blowing his load in her throat and pounding her into the filthy carpet.
Either way, the onset of orgasm pushed against the edges of his tenuous control. He needed to calm the fuck down and remember why he was here.
Hard to do with her sweet tongue working against his with diabolical skill. The tongue that had just ruined him for all other blowjobs.
Commanding her to suck him had been gratuitous and narcissistic. He only needed to get her alone to tell her about Camila. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret the ungodly pleasure her mouth had given him.
Just like he couldn’t stop his hands from learning every dip and curve of her shape. She was so damn small, all delicate bones and compact muscle. He could snap her in half. But it wasn’t just her fragile size that turned him on. It was the compliant way she responded to him, the ease in which she knelt and bent to his will.
He let her lead the kiss as he stroked her from tits to ass and back again. Then he took over, chasing her tongue and setting the tempo. Her palms pressed against his chest, her fingers curling in as she met him bite for bite, opening as he deepened the kiss, and sighing as they unraveled into groping, rubbing, heedless hands and grinding hips.
Heat panted through him as he lowered his touch to her cunt and stroked the soft flesh, sliding through the wetness and pressing inside. The clasp of her body sucked him, clenching and pulsing and scrambling his brain.
Goddamn, she was tight. Swollen and slick and so fucking hot. He ached to be inside her. Felt rabid with the need to spear her with his cock. But he was too big. He’d hurt her if he didn’t start slow and gentle.
When she reached between them and gripped his length, he nudged her arm away. She’d removed the condom, which he greatly appreciated during the blowjob, but he never had unprotected sex.
Quickly rolling on another rubber, he positioned himself. His other hand caught her waist, stilling her, making her wait for it.
The elegant column of her neck filled his view, the vein in her throat pulsing wildly. The tips of her stick-straight black hair brushed against the sharp lines of her shoulders. As her greedy hands prowled his body, her thick lashes lowered, partially concealing the lust in her eyes.
She was, without question, the sexiest, most striking woman he’d ever seen. But it changed nothing. She was still a gang member, and he still loved her sister.
This was just sex. An exchange of pleasure and, by the end of the night, information.
She squeezed her thighs around his hips, leaking honey all over his shaft.
“Your impatience only makes me hungrier, sweetheart.” He licked the seam of her lips.
“Take what you need, American.” She licked him back.
Christ, she couldn’t say shit like that to him. As it was, he struggled to keep himself from tearing into her with unrestrained barbarity. And she would let him. Maybe she was masking her expressions, but her body’s responses were honest and real. She’d let him use her savagely and selfishly, let him bite her nipples, bruise her skin, and welt her ass. It was incredibly erotic to know he could fuck this woman any way he desired, and she would allow it.
Because it pleased him.
Because she was submissive to her core.
She’s also Camila’s sister.
The inconvenient reminder gave him pause.
When the time came to talk to Camila, he wouldn’t provide details of this encounter. Wouldn’t tell her how fucking perfect her sister’s pussy felt sliding against his dick, pulsing and dripping and begging to be stuffed.
Fingernails bit into his arms, narrowing his focus on the sexy woman on his lap. She’d waited long enough.
Clutching her waist with both hands, he sank her onto his cock with excruciating slowness. As the suction of her body stretched and clamped around him, he released a low, long groan.
His cock strained so hard and full inside her it was agonizing. He wasn’t even buried yet. Could she take him to the hilt?
The question was answered as she slammed downward and ground her clit against his pelvis. He grunted, and she moaned, scratching her nails down his chest.
Then he fucked her, lifting her up and down, pushing into her, and riding the intoxicating waves of bliss. There were no traces of pain in her body’s reactions, nothing to dissuade him from deepening his thrusts. His balls tightened, and his hips flexed as he devoured the view of her bouncing, perky tits.
He wasn’t a fan of this position, preferred to be on top, but he allowed it for a moment because it gave him unrestricted access to her body. And he took advantage, gliding his hands from her waist to roam her feminine peaks and valleys, plucking at her nipples, and caressing the velvety smoothness of her neck.
The fissured scar across her midsection glowed white against her caramel skin. He traced it, just a steady slide of reverent fingers, but didn’t linger. He would demand the full story from her…later.
It was remarkable how well they moved together—the synchronization of their rolling grinds, the give of her body with the force of his thrusts, and the stretch of her pussy as he pounded her inner muscles. It felt as though they’d been lovers for years, like there was a familiarity between them, a uniquely matched closeness he’d never experienced with another woman.
The reason was simple. She yielded to him in a way no one ever had, craved the freedom in relinquishing control. And it was in his nature to take the reins.
With his hands on her hips, he drove inside her, feeding her every ruthless inch and unleashing the last of his restraint. The tip of him hit her so deeply he felt the back of her narrow cunt, groaned, and hammered her again.
Driven by primal instinct and the urge to punish her for making him want her so goddamn badly, he fucked her viciously, mercilessly, gasping and plunging, his fingers digging into bone.
With a whimper, she fell against his chest, pressing her mouth into the bend of his neck, kissing, licking, and panting noisily. Then she leaned up and nibbled his earlobe.
“You feel incredible, American.” She nipped and teased the sensitive skin beneath his ear before whispering again, “Are you a doctor?”
“What?” He slowed his thrusts and nudged her back to see her face. “No. Why?”
“Oh, I…” She returned to his neck, distracting him with those soft, hot lips. “I thought I saw you at the hospital.”
She was lying. The hospital was miles away, outside of a neighborhood she never left.
“Why are you looking for a doctor?” In a sex club of all places? He clutched her shoulder and pushed her up, studying the vastness of her deep brown eyes.
“I’m not—”
He gripped her throat to silence another lie. But something else happened. She didn’t struggle, didn’t claw at the collar of his unyielding fist, didn’t show any of the fight-or-flight responses expected from a woman being choked by a stranger.
Instead, she melted into the restraint. Lips parted, eyes dilated, she squeezed her pussy so tightly around him he saw stars. Shudders exploded through his body, and his dick throbbed and swelled so hard it was the only heartbeat he felt.
He couldn’t hold back. The robe came off in a frenzy, tossed on the couch at the last second to protect her from the cushion, before he flipped her onto her back and plowed his way inside her.
Goddamn, he was stark raving mad with need and couldn’t fuck her hard enough, deep enough. It was raw and beautiful, not just where they were joined or the urgency they shared, but the way she stared up at him, her eyes glazed with desire, awe, and trust. She stared at him like she wanted to give him everything, like she wanted him to take it, to liberate her.
He wrapped his fingers around her fragile throat, taking more care this time with her windpipe. Just the right amount of pressure, the illusion of strangulation, and…
There she goes.
Her mouth gaped in a silent scream as she detonated around the stabbing drives of his cock. He swooped in and feasted on the curves of her lips, the warm hidden caverns around her tongue, and the clean wet flavor of her frantic breaths.
She tasted like sin and paradise, a sweet combination that would never tire, never completely sate, because he would always want more. More of her mouth. More of her pussy. More of this.
But he’d reached the limit of his self-discipline, his entire body trembling and overdosed on pleasure chemicals. He needed to come.
He released her throat and braced his arms on the cushion to buffer the force of his thrusts. A few more deliriously brutal strokes and he fell still, staring into her dazed eyes as he filled the condom with his spent enthusiasm.
The eruption of orgasm throbbed for long seconds through his cock, attacking every nerve-ending with delicious sparks of electricity. Had he ever come that hard? No way. He felt like he was going to pass out.
But he couldn’t. He had to finish this, say what he needed to say, and get this gorgeous, unexpectedly perfect woman reunited with her sister.
Piloting his movements with deliberate care, he peppered her neck with kisses as his fingers moved along her arms to hold her hands against the cushion above her head. Just a light hold, not enough pressure to cause alarm.
Then he leaned back and watched her face. “Listen carefully, Lucia Dias.”
Her eyes widened at her name, and he tightened his hold on her wrists.
“Shh. I won’t hurt you.” He kissed her slack lips. “Ten years ago, your sister escaped her kidnapper. Camila’s alive and well and living with Matias in Colombia.” He pressed another kiss to her mouth. “She misses you.”
She stopped breathing, didn’t blink. He released her hands and gave her room. There was no emotion in her expression. Was she in shock?
He removed the condom and sat back on his heels, letting her see the honesty in his eyes as she processed his words.
She lay there for a moment, breathless, unmoving. Then she pushed off the cushion, limbs loose and face relaxed. Her hands slid up his chest, and her body followed. It was strangely sensual and totally not the reaction he expected.
Curling her fingers through his hair, she kissed a path from his mouth to his ear and whispered, “If you want to live, do not follow me.”
With that, she rose from the couch and strode out of the room.