DIABLO INSIDE

by Amarie Avant

  I turn in my seat to offer my full attention. “You want to talk about it, chula?”

  Aria shakes her pretty, little head. All I want to do is be inside of it to glean the source of her sadness, anger, happiness. This is more than sex, and me having the key to unleash her orgasm.

  Like earlier, I realize we’re in uncharted territories. Fuck, I’m not monogamous, but I’m confident about my shit, which means I’m aware of my limitations: Finessing women—check. Saving them from a broken heel, placing a smile on their face—check, check. Moral support—nada.

  I’m out of the car and at the passenger door in seconds. There’s no tension in the silence as Aria gets out. I hope the look in my eyes tells her I’m game to chat when she is. The moon glints in her jaded gaze.

  I slip the blazer around her body. She slides her arms inside. Taking delicate care, I button her up, planting a kiss on her lips. “Everything will be okay, mami.”

  She’s still drowning in silence. I take her hand to start walking, but she doesn’t move. I step back over, and Aria leans on her tippy toes, rising as high as she can. I descend low.

  She clasps my jaw. “Do you know that’s all I ever needed to hear in my entire life? Everything will be okay?”

  My mouth draws to hers, arm encircling her waist. With a hand clinging to her ass, I lift her, groaning at the sweet taste of her mouth.

  “Aria, that you?” Someone calls out the door.

  She groans against my lips. “Rain check?”

  I give her ass another pawing before placing her back onto her own two feet.

  “Crap, my shoes. Forget about it,” Aria scoffs. “Gramps, it’s me.”

  Light floods across the front yard. Her fingers glide through mine, and she starts past rose bushes for the door. A dark-skinned man with thinning white hair hugs her. At the sight of me, his lips pull into a line.

  “Gramps, this is my friend, Attorney Dominic Alvarez. Dom, this is my grandfather, Cornelius Jones.”

  “Hmm, friend and formal titles, all while wearing the young man’s clothing.” Her grandfather extends a hand. “Aim higher, Aria.”

  I’m firm, whereas Cornelius does his best to squeeze my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones.”

  When he makes no effort to let go, Aria pats both our hands. “Okay, Gramps. Let’s go inside.”

  The old man chides. “Aria, it’s mighty cozy and warm in this house. But I bet you’ll keep on wearing that jacket.”

  We enter the home. On the walls in every direction, family photos fill them. There is not a space left; every photo frame touches. My mouth tips at the edges when Cornelius steps over. “Yes, sir.”

  He snorts. “I appreciate a family man. You’re at zero, young man. You had negative points coming around at the bewitching hour with my grandbaby dressed the way she is.”

  Aria sighs. “Gramps, you’re recalling the wrong era. I’m presentable.”

  “Also, a lot safer me swinging by with her than Aria traveling on her own at this hour, sí?” I cock a brow.

  The old man’s face mushes a little, then he nods. “Still, not on the board yet, young man.”

  Aria runs a hand across her face. “Is the coffee maker broken again?”

  “Yes.” Moving slowly in his house shoes, Cornelius begins down a hallway.

  “Gramps hates humans. Just follow my lead.”

  “You got something to say, Aria?” He calls entering the kitchen.

  “Telling Dom you have a cup of coffee before sleep.” She mouths the rest. “Surly old man.”

  “Thought so.”

  In the kitchen, Aria coasts toward the contraption. She cracks her knuckles when I mention, “Looks like the plug . . .”

  She shakes her head, vigorously. Cornelius glares at me. I settle down at the breakfast nook. The white paint is yellow with age.

  “Dom, I’ll have this figured out in a few.” She winks.

  For an hour, Aria pretends to tinker with the coffee machine while her abuelo engages her in conversation. When she includes me, he redirects the conversation back to a “remember when” moment.

  I can’t help but hide a smile while holding her hand on the way out.

  “I’m so . . .” She pauses, stopping in front of me. “No apologies, right?”

  I nod, pressing my mouth against hers.

  “Well, as you may have noticed, my gramps and I have a routine. He gets lonely, unplugs the coffee machine, which is beyond me that it still works. We will be SOL the night he calls me over, and this isn’t a game.”

  “I like your abuelo.” Enough to want to reach out to my own stubborn papi.

  “He likes you,” she quips.

  “Let’s be honest.” I pull her to me.

  “I am.” She pushes me away. “Remember, he’s got guns, and he’s definitely looking through the window.”

  I laugh, following her sexy ass.

  “Anyway, our routine began a few years after Gram died. He fixed shit. She cooked. She even woke up at the crack of dawn, mind you, that coffee maker is probably the first ever to have a timer to set. But she woke up anyway to pour his coffee.”

  I hold open the door. “Sounds like true love.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  El Santo

  Blinding light wakes me. The side of my temple smacks into the driver’s side window as I jump from my slumped position. Cracking my neck, I glance around. Exotic flowers sway in the morning breeze. The flowers hedge around the car where I’ve parked, backed in. Great, all I need is a nosey neighbor or a police cruiser coasting along.

  Yawning, I power up the car. Last night’s dream has me teeming with anticipation. I connect the charger to power-up my dead phone. I need fuel. Seeing LeAnna fool herself is that fuel.

  A few minutes later, I scroll through the live feed of Dominic’s bedroom. I’d refused to enter the house last night with him fucking her. They haven’t declared their love for each other. But being under the same roof as he screwed the same pussy I was growing obsessed with would’ve changed my plans. Alter the fuck out of them. I view an image of them entering last night. He carried her to bed. My thumb continues to glide. No fuel. All he knows is pounding cunts. But they returned from her abuelo, and he led her to bed to sleep.

  Something akin to relief siphons through my veins. Ten minutes later, my car is parked in its usual spot, and I’ve traveled around back.

  A loud chopping sound cushions the sound of me entering through the sliding glass door near the pool. Dominic’s preparing a breakfast smoothie. Placing a strip of mint gum into my mouth, I climb up the side stairs. I stop long enough to ensure my walk-in closet is still closed. Angelica has to be starving. But then I’m magnetized to the ajar double doors before me. I look down at myself, V-neck, wrinkled jeans, boots. A slightly smaller upper body build than Dominic that’s usually hidden in a hoodie or leather jacket. Aside from the scarring of glass running along my lower back, she won’t tell the difference. Except there are my legs, which are noticeably thinner beneath my clothes. That will give LeAnna a sign of who I am. So far, when we’ve screwed on outings, I’ve been fully dressed.

  With the loud drone of the mixer in the background, I step into his room. The balcony is open. Soft morning light floats across her mahogany skin.

  Unlike my ángeles, I see the walls painted crimson with Aria’s blood. Once I exact revenge on Dominic, of course. The tips of my fingers slide across her creamy brown thigh. I’ll be the last vicious touch she’s ever known.

  “LeAnna, you continue to disappoint me.” I crouch down. A sadness I hadn’t anticipated drapes over me as I watch her gorgeous face at peace.

  We were to save each other, yet she transitioned into my hermano’s whore.

  “One day, sooner or later, I gotta kill—”

  “Dom . . .” The prettiest brown eyes on this side of the galaxy pop open.

  LeAnna rubs her hand along my face, drawing me close to her. I press my mouth against hers. My tongue drags out to tas
te her lips. She kisses me so hard that my legs would cave were I standing.

  “You’re so perfect. You were my hero.” Her voice grows muddled, still fighting sleep. LeAnna’s fingers glide across my jaw and cling to my shirt. She yanks at me.

  All the neurons in my brain explode. Cock expanding in my pants, I climb on top of LeAnna as she tugs at me. Her eyes are still shaded. My hips slide between her thighs.

  “You are trouble, mami.” I groan. There’s not a single shred of vengeance in my bones.

  “Shhh. Let me pretend this is a dream. That yesterday.” Her voice takes on a delectable, husky tone. “That yesterday was our normal. Our life.”

  Yesterday, at the gym.

  Eyes still shaded closed, LeAnna purrs, stirring her sex against my jeans. She groans. “That I’m not crazy. That you’re not a lifetime player. That you . . .”

  I’m not a player. I can be monogamous. Fuck. I pause from unzipping my pants. This puta is all in my head. These words are for . . .

  LeAnna softly snores. I begin to shift off her. Sensing my movement, she clings to me again. Her mouth settles next to mine, and she smiles as if tickled by my jaw.

  “I’d say it’s not fair you’ve brushed your teeth, and I haven’t, but I taste a faintly sweet, spicy scent. Dominic, have you been smoking?”

  “Sí, mami.” My voice echoes in my ears, lowering to a harmonic timber. LeAnna Jones still has a hypnotic hold on me that will only die with her as my palms squeeze the oxygen from her slender throat.

  She presses her lips to mine and kisses me harder. “Stop smoking. I . . . care so much about you, so much.” Her hand falls, and her voice grows groggy. “Gimme another hour. I’ll wake up. All those drinks, it’s so hard to wake up, baby.”

  “You care—”

  Footsteps sound near the door, along with the sound of Dominic on the phone. I’m fucked!

  Chapter Fifty

  Aria

  Is it too soon to say “I love you?” The words were heavy at the tip of my tongue. I knew I was speaking incoherently much of the time, but I wanted so bad for this to be . . . us.

  Sleep snatches me back into oblivion before Dominic can respond. Or had I made the declaration out loud? He’s always so full of confidence, so when “you care” came tumbling from his mouth, I may have smiled. It was like he hadn’t believed it.

  “Wake up, chula.”

  I ignore Dominic’s voice, which has grown a pinch deeper. My left hand takes flight off the bed, like an inch or two, waving him away.

  “Chula, wake up for papi.”

  “I told you I was . . .” With a huff, I roll onto my side and peel an eye open.

  Dominic is at the door, bare-chested and holding a tray with two frothy drinks. One is orange, and the other has a green tint. But what has me on pause is my luck. I could pluck a bucket full of four-leaf clovers and still not believe what’s standing before my eyes.

  Panty wetter. Stick of caramel that I want to lick, savor. If I jumped on Dominic right now, wrapped my legs around him, and declared I had no intention of ever letting go, there’s no doubt he’d run. Last night, I was good and tipsy when we walked out of my childhood home. I’d been dreaming that the man who will never settle down would sign his name on my heart.

  Yes, I have seen him in action with my eyes. Heard the deceptive, charming devil tell other women what they wanted, not what they needed to hear. Am I crazy to crave that, no matter how long it will last?

  “Was it a second ago, an hour ago when you came in here to harass me? Keep your healthy drinks.” I muse, knowing I have this habit of lucid dreaming. Maybe Dominic hadn’t kissed me at all. Thank goodness because it’s too soon to say the words I’ve never spoken to a man. And it will be too soon—in this lifetime—for Dominic Ángel Alvarez to reiterate my sentiment and mean it.

  “Took me about thirty minutes to make breakfast.” He gestures toward the tray, placing it down on my side of the bed. “What is this? Dirt?”

  I glance down as Dominic pads a foot into soil particles on the light gray runner on my side of the bed.

  “Yeah, looks like it.”

  “Okay, drink up. Then it’s time for a bath.”

  “I’m not that stinky!” I squeak.

  He laughs a little, removing his house shoe to search the sole of it. “Might’ve been me. Dario hasn’t checked the mail in ages, so I went. But I ran your bath first thing before I went down to make the drinks. Say ‘thank you, papi.’ ”

  “Thank you, Dominic.” I offer a sloppy grin, grabbing the orange drink with its mango scent. Smiling, Dominic takes it from my hand, placing the other there.

  “This one is for you, mami. Get your strength up. You owe me.”

  “Cocky bastard.” I down the green drink, surprised by the sweet taste of pineapples, a hint of pear, and a lingering taste of honey.

  “Bueno?” he asks, heading toward the bathroom.

  Stretching to my feet, I’m careful not to step in the dirt. I notice a fragment of jean material beneath the bed. Eyebrows furrowed, I reach for the crumpled light blue jeans when Dominic calls, “Get in here, chula. Now!”

  “I’m . . .”

  “Thirty?”

  I stand to my full height. “Thirty what?”

  “Oh, you know, Aria.”

  I stalk toward the bathroom. “Thirty swats? I’ll fight back!”

  My eyes collide with his. He’s seated on the ledge of a standing tub. He’s naked, and my sex begins to spasm, rain, and call out to him.

  “You good, chula?”

  I drag my tongue over my bottom lip. The heat between us intensifies. A magnetic pull brings me toward a body dripping in gold-plated muscles. “Okay, papi.” Damn it, Aria, how easy are you? He hasn’t even touched you.

  Dominic holds up a loofa in one hand. In his other open palm is translucent liquid. “How should I wash you? This is the only choice you have right now, chula? The loofa or my hand. After that, papi tells you exactly what you need. Comprende?”

  Dammit, I stutter on a monosyllabic word, “Y-yes.”

  “So?” He cocks a brow.

  Oh, God, my mind keeps clearing. “Wash me with your hands.” My second round of self-deprecation is strangled by desire.

  “Undress for me, mami. Get in.”

  First, I move fast like a NASCAR racer, shoveling the shirt over my head. At the reflection of me, a rooster in the mirror, I slow down, acutely aware that his eyes are eating me up. I slink my thong over one hip then the other.

  Naked, I thread my fingers around Dominic’s neck, drawing his mouth in for a kiss. It starts deep, long, and grows as if we’ve been kissing for hours. It’s as if we can barely stand the thought of just kissing anymore.

  With a ragged breath, I ask, “Aren’t you getting in?”

  “No. I showered earlier.”

  “Not fair.”

  With a pout, I relax in the steamy water. Dominic’s first touch is like wildfire along my slick skin. His sudsy hand roams over my breast. Dominic nips at my collarbone, dragging his teeth along my skin. He soothes the spot with a kiss. The rest of my body is an intense inferno from his touch below.

  “Ohhhh, Dominic.” The water splashes across the side of the ledge. “Say you’re getting in. You have to.”

  “I’m shot caller, not you, mami.”

  He plasters more liquid on his hand and works his way between my legs. I thrust my hips up to meet all Dominic is willing to offer. His palm cleanses over my throbbing lips, and my body screams for penetration.

  “You’re in a tub full of water,” he says in a smooth voice. “But your pussy is all soaking wet for me.”

  “Yes,” I pant. There’s no use denying it.

  “Tweak your tits for papi.”

  Hypnotized by his deep, sensual voice, I comply.

  “Softly, Aria. Glide your fingertips over your nipples until they’re swollen, aching.”

  My fingers tremble over the tiny buds. I bite down my tongue to stop the ret
ort, stave off how his dirty domination has my nerves on edge, and my valley already aching.

  “Slip your hands down to your belly button through your silky pussy hairs.”

  I gasp, at his erotic lessons. “Dom . . .”

  “Right now, you’re burning inside, eyes begging to stroke your clit. Run your fingertips over your soaking slit.”

  “But I want you to.” My complaint breaks into a thousand tiny fragments. The glimmer in Dominic’s vibrant eyes reads that I’ll listen now or beg later. I don’t beg. With hollowed breathing, I comply with his order.

  “Keep stroking those throbbing folds. Don’t enter. Don’t release.” His smooth cognac voice makes my sex drench. With closed eyes, I struggle for air while caressing my walls—no relief.

  “Just like that, mami. Rub your pussy, no fucking your clit. No fucking deep.” There’s a devilish smile in his tone, but I don’t have the guts to open my eyes and stare at my obsession.

  The thought hits me like a thunderbolt. Just cheat. Dominic’s view doesn’t extend beneath the flurry of suds. I could enter my lonely walls right this second.

  His hand curls around my throat, and my eyelids snap open.

  “Stroke your juicy, fat pussy. No penetration. No clit action. Comprende?” He growls, seeing straight through me. “Do it over and over, till you lose your mind. I want you bucking, gone mad until all the bathwater is out the tub.”

  I writhe. My tongue runs across my lips in determination. Don’t go crazy, Aria. You’re not crazy.

  As I stroke circles around my thick sex, a slow build starts. Like a fuse being lit, I twirl my hips and arch my back.

  Bucking the fuck out, I scream his name and cum—no love given to my pearl, no entrance. I glance around myself, suddenly cold. Half the water is no longer in the tub.

  He smiles at me. “Good girl. Stand for papi.”

  I’m ready to go bald like the barbie dolls I would assault after thinking of my parents. The torture is just starting. Water glides down my curves as I step out of the tub. I place my best mean mug on my face as Dominic wraps me in a towel.