DIABLO INSIDE

by Amarie Avant

  Tears wet her pretty skin. My tongue traces a path up her cheekbones. “How does it feel, mami?”

  “Hurts so good.”

  My mouth curves devilishly. I pick up speed, eager to break her pussy. I want Dominic to sense my presence before I take all of her away from him. I go deeper, penetrate harder, all aggression. LeAnna battles back as her pussy squeezes around my girth. Our orgasm is a battle. Her muscles spasm, and my dick thrusts, pushing her higher and higher up the wall. She bites on my forearm to stifle a scream.

  “Fuck,” I grunt. The burning sensation of pain extends my eruption. I reach between her legs, returning her agony. My fingertips are ruthless against her clit. Her walls ripple around me, slowing in sequence with my drive. She whimpers and begs against my forearm, extracting her mouth. I oblige her by removing the vice grip I have on her sweet, little pearl. Damn, mami fought with the great El Santo and survived.

  She should be mine. This should be us—all the time. But the puta belongs to Dominic. Anger shatters across my flesh as LeAnna favors the wall. She slips her tight pants back up to hide her throbbing pussy. She turns around, wearing a sloppy grin. “I distinctly said no walls when it comes to you.”

  Walls? What? She smiles. I can’t force myself to return the favor.

  “You get me against a wall and . . .” LeAnna gives a flustered sigh.

  She’s not talking about you, my conscious taunts. She’s using you for her sexual fulfillment.

  I massage the tension in my jaw. “Yeah,” is all I can say.

  LeAnna reaches a hand to my face, and I move away on instinct.

  “Dom.” Her voice lowers.

  “No feelings right now, LeAnna. You forget the rules. I deny you dick.” I threaten. LeAnna Jones had me on a rollercoaster. Kill her, pardon her, purify her like an ángel. Our relationship has come full circle. One of these days, soon, I hope this bitch is dead to me.

  “Okay, Dominic, later. You like this. I love this. But when we see each other tonight . . .”

  Envy saturates my bones. The last text Aria sent Dominic was a promise to cook dinner. You should be cooking me dinner.

  “When I see you later,” I place on a barmy smile, “no talk of what we did.”

  “Long as we do this again.” She winks, sauntering away.

  Moments later, I’m rooted in the same spot. She wants to see me later.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  El Santo

  I saunter through the gym parking lot to the late-model Honda I usually keep parked down the street from home. It’s at the edge of the lot. With the weather cooling, it’s easier to move around incognito. I glance at the cell phone I’ve been using to intercept Dominic and LeAnna’s calls. I’ll give it a few hours before rerouting her messages back to him. I don’t want her to slip up and thank him for the afternoon dick.

  I chortle, running a hand over the back of my neck. I never violated my ángeles. Of course, LeAnna will only ever be the crux to Dominic’s heart. If he never falls for her as I did with Alejandra, I guess there won’t be any fissures in his corazón when I stomp his meddling, little mouse beneath my boot.

  I’m headed on the freeway toward home. After sex with LeAnna, I’ll have to stomach tonight. Her fucking him after she fucked me.

  “My little puta,” I groan.

  My primary cellphone begins to ring. My gaze shifts from a yellow light I cruise through to the screen.

  I press the speaker button and give a gruff greeting. “Peachy?”

  “Dario, I was beginning to assume you changed your number. You home?”

  Where else would I be? “Sí. What’s up?”

  “Great. I’m around the corner.”

  I grimace. “Eh, I’m not feeling up for company.”

  The chula is a mid-level detective. We started around the same time. But I spoke up during a debriefing about a serial rapist about seven years back, which placed me on the fast track. I went from fixed surveillance, where cops dropped off suspect’s computers or other electronics they needed to get into or digital prints, to mobile surveillance, right in the thick of things. But with an added bonus—the special crimes unit. Detective Carrington, one of the top dogs in the department, made the request. Facilitating an ongoing investigation was like snorting cocaine. It all equipped me for becoming El Santo.

  Now, I infiltrate Carrington’s special team for information about none other than me.

  “You got a minute for your old colleague and a cinnamon roll?”

  “Eh . . .” No, puta.

  “C’mon, Dario. You must’ve watched the news recently—”

  “El Santo is set to strike again?” I smile.

  “No. Well, yeah. Listen, the hype about that asshole gets to me too. I’m actually reaching out about the murder at the park yesterday. I had an urge to call you, but . . .”

  But you know my expertise. They don’t call me El Santo for no reason. I mutter, “Give me ten. I’ll buzz you into the gate.”

  Watching Carrington’s special unit has its limitations. Today, I’ll assist Peachy, and she’ll abet me, too.

  Five minutes away from home, I park two houses down, jog between them and to the oceanfront. In a matter of minutes, I’ve climbed the gate to Dominic’s property and let myself in the side door. Whistling, I maneuver my wheelchair to the front door, settle down, and answer.

  Peachy is exiting a black Impala. She smiles at the sight of me. My mouth moves up into a greeting then falls. Sí, I look like a depressed fuck.

  “Don’t give me that, Dario. Listen, I thought of you on a whim. You and your brilliant techie mind.”

  I nudge my chin into the house. Peachy enters, settling down at the seat next to the door. My gaze flies up to the double staircase, and I warn myself to be easy. My walk-in closet is impenetrable. Dominic only heard me talking to Angelica this morning as I closed the soundproof door. She’s locked in, nestled tight.

  “So, what’s this homicide you’re working on?” I clear my throat.

  Her eyes flit away from my defunct legs. “I finished a home call with a witness not too far from here. To her recollection, she saw a man talking with the vic about an hour before the incident.”

  Chewing on the inside of my lip, I wait a few seconds. “What can I do for you, Peachy?”

  “Well . . .” She wrenches her fingers. “Years ago, Dario, you were an amazing support to me when I promoted to detective.”

  I huff. I had one minuscule indiscretion out of years of devotion to Alejandra. Had I known mi amor was seeing Dominic as well, I might have given Peachy the fuck of her life. But I was a one-woman man after the day I built up enough courage to ask Alejandra on a date when we transitioned to the gifted high school. Eyes wide open in love. But in a moment of weakness, I’d kissed Peachy, gave her the Cubano spiel about passion, and she aced her assignment.

  “Looks like you’re doing well, lead detective on a 187.”

  “Yup. You remember Cooper, the asshole that got in my head before my interview?”

  I nod.

  “After our moment,” she blushes, no doubt considering our kiss. “Anyway, Cooper’s doing these challenges at Mulligan’s bar.”

  I nod, connecting the dots—the cop bar where the team went after a big break in a case. Due to Alejandra’s hectic schedule, I missed many celebrations with the team for more time with mi amor.

  “Anyway, I’ve literally bought beers for the team over a hundred times in the past, when going up against Cooper. Save my purse, Dario, save me.”

  Save me. Peachy’s pretty brown eyes, her tone. I blink, and LeAnna is before me, begging me to save her from El Diablo, mi hermano. I’m El Santo. Saving them is what I do.

  Nodding, I ask, “What do you need, Peachy?”

  “I have my laptop in the car. You can keep a secret, can’t you?” Peachy saunters over to me, trailing her hand over the bristles at my jaw. “I love the look, by the way. Not so clean anymore.”

  If you only knew, puta. I grin
at her, saying, “Get your laptop. Sign in. Tell me what you need.”

  I never had access to Detective Peachy Osong’s information. But I will today. All-access to Detective Carrington’s passwords was a blessing in the beginning. Then I created a backdoor into the program on all his devices—computer, police-issued cell phone, tablet—which allowed me unlimited access.

  Peachy sashays outside. I pull out my cellphone, tap a few buttons to relink the connection between LeAnna and Dominic’s cell phones. Then I wait to pull the strings with Detective Osong.

  Go time.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Dominic

  “You murdered my vibe,” Yasiel says, closing the passenger door of my ride.

  I zip down the window. “Come here, niño.”

  He looks to his mother, who is walking toward the gated entrance of their apartment building. Huffing loudly, he returns his attention to me.

  “You’re not on vacation, Yasielito.”

  “Dude, I have a papi.”

  “Sí, y tías y tíos. A big-ass familia, me included. Two more days of suspension.”

  He snorts. “I’m counting ‘em!”

  “Let’s make a bet. I’ll have you running to school when your suspension is over.”

  “Already thought about it, Dominic!” He gives me a two-finger salute before hustling off again.

  Smiling, I drive off, reminiscing on how much we are alike when I was young. Even our family dynamic was the same. A papi whose only passion was work and his wife. A mami with hot peppers in her blood when it came to raising her children. But I’ll admit, for all my mami’s wisdom and cup towels, I, my papi’s version of a perfect son, was headed down the wrong road. Masculinity isn’t the only necessity when setting the foundation for father and son.

  My phone rings, and I press the button on my steering wheel to answer.

  “Hey, I texted you.” Aria pouts.

  “You did?” I glance down at my phone. All during my lunch break, I was in suspense, waiting for a tit pic that never came. I notice a message from two hours ago. How did I miss that? “I see. But it’s not what I asked for.”

  “What kind of sex machine are you, Dominic? I’ll need—never mind. No complaints here. Now, will you respond to my other text message?”

  I glance at the text message again, which I also hadn’t noticed before. “The one where you’re reneging on cooking me dinner. I have to go out? Dancing?”

  “You can’t dance?” She gasps.

  “Don’t disrespect me, I’m Cuban, mami. You dance?”

  She chuckles. “Wear steel-toe boots, and you won’t have to find out if I’m a novice.”

  I shake my head. “No woman of mine is—”

  “Woman of yours? Dominic, as your reformed stalker, I’ll remind you, you’re not a fan of claiming.”

  Damn, I did claim her. First, when we were at the police station with Antonio, I’ll admit to the caveman jealousy. This second slipup is without justification.

  Years of fucking for sport implode before my eyes. I admire Aria’s bravery and her dedication to her twin. I want to be the reason she knows how blindingly beautiful she is. She has all the qualities in a woman I never needed and still don’t.

  She is mine. Every curvy inch of her is mine to satiate. Her pussy to drink. Her lips to curve. Her throat to scream my name. Her back to arch. Her ass to spank.

  “So,” Aria clears her throat. “Chula is a cute word in lieu of . . .”

  Fisting the steering wheel, I growl. “Aria, I wrote my name on your pussy with my fucking tongue. You are mine.”

  As the private elevator coasts upward, bringing me closer to Aria, the need in me is savage. Aria Jones no longer a conquest. I run my calloused palms together, imagining her tinder, mahogany skin.

  I unleash another button on my dark, hunter-green suit, as the elevator doors slide open. I’m acutely aware Aria’s eyes are all over me as I hear a groan of appreciation. My gaze catches her, and I return the favor.

  “Mami.” My timber levels out at a loss for words. Aria glows. Somehow, we’re color coordinated. I step out of the elevator and to her. My hands splay against the sides of her olive-green cutout dress. Her side cleavage beckons me for a taste. Lips lowering to hers, my mouth lingers for a caress I pray is more worship than sexual. Attraction currents through me like a tidal wave to my heart and to my soul. My cock is heavier than ever.

  Aria shudders against my touch. My hands trail down to the silky material coming together at her waist. I nip her earlobe. “I’m going to dance with you now, then eat you before we hit the dance floor.”

  “Dom . . .” she murmurs, though her pretty browns beg for submission. “Wa-wait.”

  “Last time you had my dick in your mouth, we couldn’t wait to get inside. Fuck the bedroom. I want you right here, right now, mami.” I descend to my knees. My hands clasp her ass. The thought of waiting for a second longer twists my gut with a dark hunger.

  “Dom, ahem, I’d like to introduce you to my,” her voice is tiny, flushed with desire and embarrassment, “my cousin and her husband.”

  Aye, compañía. Giving her ass a last squeeze, I stand to my feet. Beneath the magnificent brown glow, Aria’s face takes on a red hue.

  Standing at the entrance of the kitchen is a dark-skinned woman. She grins as I extend my hand. “I’m Cuban. This is how we greet our women.”

  “Don’t mind us, proceed.”

  “I may have to add that greeting to my repertoire, mate,” her British companion says.

  “You better, Linc,” the wife replies in a singsong tone.

  Aria clears her throat. “Dominic, this is my cousin Siobhan, her husband, Lincoln Zager. Surprise! They appeared out of thin air. Siobhan begged to go dancing.”

  I run my hands down Aria’s shoulders. “Then we show them a thing or two.”

  Siobhan places a hand on her hip. “Did my little cuz learn to dance in the last few weeks . . . or was it longer?”

  Aria laughs a little. “Ha, don’t bait me. I’m gonna grab my purse.”

  “Dom, she might need a little assistance.” Siobhan grins. “We’ll meet you all outside.”

  “Siobhan,” Aria groans. Lincoln presses on the elevator button while I follow her to the bedroom. When we step inside, she closes the double doors. The desire that teemed through us both at first sight returns. I step toward her.

  “Dominic, wait-wait.”

  “No, wait. I promised to eat you, sí?”

  “First, don’t come to my house looking hot as fuck and have the nerve to be horny. At least wait until I get you to the room. Second, you promised to dance, eat, then dance again.”

  “Why so technical, chula?” I pepper the side of her neck with kisses. My tongue slithers across her collarbone. “Anyway, I won’t eat you. I’ll drink you to the last drop.”

  “We ha-have, we have to go.” She sidesteps me.

  “Then cum quick.” Gripping her about the waist, I drag her ass back toward me and go to my knees. My rough hands kneed her apple bottom. “This is a perfect, round ass. So lush. Jiggles on demand. When I spank you, mami, your ass cheeks clap back. I love that bit of defiance.”

  “You’re bad for me.” She groans. “Will you give me a moment?”

  “For what?” I murmur, mesmerized by the movements of her ass in my palms.

  “I didn’t just spring my cousin and her husband on you, Dom. Ros invited herself.”

  “Bueno.”

  “She also invited half of her family. That means there are a lot of people you’ll have to meet tonight if we still go.” Her perky tits rise and fall as she pants. “It’s too soon to meet—”

  “Chula,” I purr her name again. Aria slides her hands down in an attempt to stop me from jiggling her ass, but I clamp down on her heavenly flesh. “Mírame. Have I made a move to leave this floor, or move away from the delicious scent of your pussy?”

  “No.”

  “Did I call you my woman today?” I in
quire, pressing the string of her thong to the side. The lace looks so pretty embedded in the soft tendrils of hair.

  She squeaks, “Yes.”

  “So, now we’ve established as much. Here are my rules.” I cup her wet heat with my palm, massaging the spasming, thick lips with my fingertips. Pushing back the fat folds, I dip my head to flick at her nub.

  “Dom . . .”

  “I’m hungry, and you did offer to feed me dinner, sí?”

  She whimpers. “Yes. So, be good tonight, I’ll be in your debt.”

  “Fucking right, you are, Aria. I’ve already said a man like me doesn’t go hungry. So, I’ll have my appetizer now.” Gripping her ass in my hands, my tongue glides along the juices coating the folds of her core.

  “Dominic, I can’t think. I can hardly stand.”

  “I don’t give a fuck, chula.” I alternate from exploring her with two fingers to stroking her deep with my mouth. My hand slaps Aria’s rear, and she places one leg over my shoulder.

  With dazed eyes, she mews, tangling my hair with her fingers. She’s only capable of saying “yes” on repeat.

  Aria’s walls twitch. I move my fingers out of her sopping pussy and plow my tongue deep. Her walls clamp, rippling and clenching. Digging my fingernails into her ass, I drink my fill of her desire.

  I sit back on my haunches, my mouth wet from her ocean. The sweet, sticky sex on my jaw coats me like the perfect cologne. Aria clasps a hand to her chest.

  Standing, I grab her cheeks and look her in the eyes. “Mami, look at my shoes.”

  She’s still coming down from a euphoric high, so I repeat myself. “Look at them, Aria. They’re very nice shoes, sí?”

  “Yeah. Good luck with those on the dance floor, you conceited bastard.” She chuckles.

  I nod my head. “You can’t dance. Bueno.”

  “I can drop it low, not salsa. But how is this good?”

  I frame my hands around her waist then let them trail down to her ass and hips again. Her hungry gaze begins to eat my words as I make a promise. “Later, I’ll have you in my lap, ass up, chula. I’ll massage oil into all this thickness. And spank this sweet ass based on as many times you step on my expensive-ass shoes.”