by René, Dani
“Fuck you, Victor Cordero,” I spit out, not sure where I’m getting the confidence from, but if he wants to kill me, I wish he’d just get it over with.
He spins me around to face him. His gold eyes blaze like the afternoon sun outside the window. Warm, yet cold and dangerous at the same time. My mouth falls open when he pins me to the door with his hand. I don’t fight, I don’t flail, and I recognize the frustration in his gaze.
“What? You don’t like a limp rag doll?” I challenge him easily, knowing I’ve caught onto what he really wants from me. He may not have said it, but it’s written all over his handsome face. What the fuck, Sofía?
“Tonight, you’ll give me everything I want.”
“And what do you want?”
His thumb runs along the smooth flesh of my neck, his gaze following the path up and down. He revels in the erratic pulse that’s thrumming wildly along the slender column. It’s my most dangerous part—my heart. It’s broken, it’s unstable, and it could kill me at any moment. Yet, he wants it.
“I thought it was clear, Sofía. I want you.”
18
Victor
She stares at me for a while before she shakes her head. Her body is still trembling, and I can’t help but find it sensual. The fire that rages in her eyes, the fear that trickles through her, everything about Sofía has turned me inside out. And I’m about to unravel her just the same.
My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket, and I pull it out before she can speak. My eyes scan the message, and my blood turns hot like a volcano about to erupt, and I’m not sure little Sofía will survive.
“Do you think I could ever want you?” Her question steals my attention and stills me for a moment. Each time we’ve been close to each other, there’s been electricity in the air. Even though she’s not supposed to be mine, I know I’ll take her.
“You mistake my statement as an option to you, Sofía,” I murmur, while leaning in and allowing my lips to trail along her chin, up toward her ear. A soft gasp falls from her lips the moment I suck the lobe into my mouth, my teeth grazing along the sensitive flesh. “Tell me, Sofía,” I murmur in her ear, and another shudder races through her.
“This… I… stop.” Her weak response is only further evidence that she does want me. As much as I do her.
“It’s been long enough, and you can’t deny each time I walk into the room you don’t feel it.” My voice is husky, filled with need. “Quiero oírte decirlo,” I taunt her—I want to hear you say it—needing her to say no. To tell me she doesn’t want this.
“Please let me go, Victor.” This time, she sounds more convinced, but I’m certainly not. I can’t be, because if I believed her words, then I’d be a stupid man. And that’s undoubtedly not who I am.
“Look into my eyes, Sofía.” My demand sends a cool shiver through her. Goose bumps rise on every inch of her skin, and I want to trail my tongue over them, tasting the caramel of her flesh. I wonder what her cunt looks like, if it’s smooth and succulent, or if she’s trimmed, tight and warm. Thoughts race through my mind and I’m lost in them when I feel her hand on my face. It’s not a harsh touch, it’s gentle, yet demanding at the same time.
A contradiction.
“Victor.” The way she breathes my name sends desire coursing through me. Need that I haven’t felt in a long time. Her gaze shines, and I’m lost in those beautiful windows to her soul and the want shining in them. She’s fighting it. She’s strong, using all her restraint to not want me. “Please release me from your hold. I want to lie down.”
The gentleness of her request has me relenting. For the first time in years, in forever, I step back and allow a woman to control me. For far too long, I’ve been the monster, but for some reason, this woman brings out a kinder side to me, she tames the beast that rears within me, and I don’t know what to do with that.
“We still need to talk.”
Sofía pads to the bed, perching her ass on the edge of the mattress, and I watch as she settles with her legs crossed. The small shorts she’s wearing offer me a glimpse of white cotton panties beneath, and my cock is at attention, more so now than moments ago.
“Who is Rodrigo?” My question jars her. I see it the second his name leaves my lips. Her mouth falls open, but she shuts it tight, her lips pursed in concentration, and I watch in awe as her mind swirls with explanations that I know are all lies.
She’s attempting to come up with some made up story. Only, she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. I’ve been trained to read liars and torture men for less. I was about to walk her into that asshole’s house tonight, but his threat was clear. The confirmation I got moments ago has violence thrumming in my veins. I’m ready to kill.
I run my index finger over my lips, while my thumb holds onto my chin. My other hand is shoved deep into the pocket of my slacks to keep from flinging something across the room. I can tell a liar when I see one. There are many tells on a person when they’re trying to come up with a story. Even the short delay in response informs me that she doesn’t want me to know about her past. About her secret. I wonder then if her father knows.
“Does Hector know about him?”
“No!” She snaps, her gaze pinned on me. Her delicate hands that are always so steady, tremble with anxiety. She’s afraid of him. That angers me. I want her afraid of me; I’m the fucking asshole who can snuff her out within seconds.
I hold the strings to her life, and if she fears anyone, it should be me.
“And you thought not telling your father about your fucking drug dealer boyfriend would be a good idea?” My voice is calm; yet, she can tell from the underlying rage coursing through me that I’m not happy about learning this tidbit of information from Javier only seconds before I stood in her room. “I came in here to talk, to give you a chance to release your father, but if you continue lying to me, juguete…”
My words taper off, but that only opens the door for her to fist her tiny hands. The action is adorable, and I almost want to laugh, almost. Her big eyes pierce me with challenge, with anger, with everything she’s feeling, and I’m tempted to pin her to the bed and fuck her senseless.
However, I don’t expect the words to fall from her lips the moment I take a step toward her. “What? What are you going to do with your plaything, Victor? Are you going to kill me? Then do it! I’m dying anyway.”
We both still at her outburst. Me, because I don’t want to acknowledge the fact that she’s ill. And she is frozen because she’s finally admitted it. I knew she’s never actually voiced the words. It’s not something a sane person would want to tell themselves.
I’m dying anyway.
Those three words, so powerful in admission, yet so difficult to utter. I’ve seen men die before me, I’ve taken their lives, basked in the control I had over how many breaths they take, but this… This is something else. The thought of Sofía closing her eyes and never waking again causes my chest to ache in a way I’ve never felt.
I’ve only ever loved one woman. A long time ago. She was everything. I wanted to marry her, to make her a Cordero, mark her, claim her, put a fucking ring on her finger, and then I walked in while she was bouncing on one of my men’s dicks.
The house is silent as I saunter through the living room. I thought Gaia would be home, but there aren’t any lights on, and there’s no music playing. When she’s home alone, I know she enjoys singing along to whatever playlist she has on the stereo.
I make my way through the kitchen, finding nothing but a plate that’s been swiped clean. Picking it up, I place it in the sink and turn for the stairs. That’s when I hear the sound. It’s slight, but I have the hearing of a fucking predator.
Pulling my gun from the holster that’s secured on my shoulder, I cock it, ensuring it’s loaded. Silently, I head upstairs, taking one step at a time. The closer I get to the top, the louder the sounds are. It’s not music, perhaps Gaia is watching television. Some fucking soap opera. But it’s only when I reach the door to t
he guest bedroom that I hear the moaning. That’s certainly more pornographic sounding than the shows she usually watches on tv.
I reach for the handle, twisting it slowly, ensuring that the movement is silent. The wooden surface inches inward, and I find the source of the moans and grunts. The long flowing dark hair of the woman I was about to propose to hangs down her back in chocolate waves.
Her bare torso moves up and down, and with every whimper and mewl, she moves faster, riding the dick beneath her. I know her moves, I’ve seen them firsthand, but now it’s as if I’m having an out of body experience.
I step into the space, and the asshole’s shocked gaze latches on me. He shoves the woman I love to the mattress, swiftly attempting to move off the bed. But he’s too slow. I’m a fucking hunter, and when I’m out for the kill, I ensure my prey doesn’t escape.
Lifting the gun, I aim the barrel toward the naked figure. Gaia is screaming, begging me to stop, but all I see is red. Blood. My finger tugs on the trigger, again and again. With every bullet hole I puncture through the asshole’s back, the less enraged I feel.
When he’s on the floor, lying in a pool of blood, I turn to her. “Get the fuck out before I do the same to you.” My voice isn’t mine. It’s dark, low, and dangerous. I sound like Satan himself. And I smile, when she glares at me in fury.
“What the fuck is your problem? You fuck—”
That’s when I pull the trigger. Her body crumples to the floor as she screeches, holding her cunt as the blood pours from it. “Next time you get a dick inside that hole, you’ll remember me.”
That’s when I turn and leave her on the floor.
That was the last time I ever allowed a woman to control me.
When I glance at Sofía, she’s staring at me with curiosity painting her pretty face. I turn away, not wanting her to see me like that, even though it’s in my mind, I have a feeling her piercing gaze can puncture the armor I’ve perfected since I threw Gaia out of my house.
I wanted to believe her love for me, but that’s not the type of man I am. Instead, I didn’t even stay to watch her bleed out, she didn’t deserve my attention. And I never felt an ounce of guilt for slicing her open.
“Where did you go?” Her sweet voice cuts through the dark, and I’m bombarded by her light. She emanates it like a beacon. A lighthouse on the edge of the ocean, warning me to steer clear, but I’ve never been one for safety. I’ve lived my life on the choppy waters, and this time, it’s no different.
“To a place I wish you never to see.”
“I’ve probably seen worse,” she tells me sadly.
I don’t meet her gaze when I question, “Why doesn’t Hector know about Rodrigo?”
19
Sofía
He watches me. The predator glaring at me, waiting for me to make my move. To tell him about my stupid deal with a man who is probably as dangerous as Victor Cordero himself. But then again, don’t they say it’s the devil you know.
“It was when I turned sixteen,” I start, averting my gaze. “I was sick for months, and my father’s salary wasn’t covering my medication.” A humorless laugh tumbles free when I recall papá’s love for gambling. How each night he’d come home with less and less in his wallet.
I knew what he was doing, though. Trying to win money to pay for my surgery; he promised it would be okay, but it wasn’t. He fell deeper and deeper into a fucking hole, and I was being dragged down with him.
Don’t get me wrong, I love him more than life, but if he would have listened to me, this would never have come to pass. I told him I could work, I could do more, but he didn’t want me to.
“Rodrigo promised to help me, help my family,” I tell my captor. “He gave me money to buy medication, but it was only when I turned seventeen did he want more for his money. He…” My words falter, and I finally lift my gaze to Victor who’s positively vibrating with rage. Over the past week, I’ve seen him angry, but this… it’s something else. Something dark passes over his features, and if I wasn’t the one telling him this story, I’d run.
Although, I tried, and it didn’t work. So, I quietly sit here, wringing my fingers in the sheet that doesn’t offer comfort against the wrath emanating from the man before me.
“Did he…?” He doesn’t voice the words, but I know what he’s asking. I know the moment he closes the distance between us and lifts me by my arms as if I’m a weightless doll. Our faces are inches apart, his lips are a breath from mine, and his eyes, those golden orbs of emotion, swirl wildly with confusion.
“No. He didn’t do anything to me. Although, he almost did, got my clothes torn before someone interrupted, and he sent me racing home,” I finally utter.
I’m about to tell him more, when his mouth crashes to mine. It’s sudden, unexpected, but in that moment, it’s everything I want. He releases my arms, and I fall to the mattress. His large frame hovers over me.
“Tell me, Sofía,” he pleads in a low graveled tone. “Tell me you hate me.” His gaze bores through me, it niggles away at my pain, the high walls I’d built to keep everyone out, and slowly, brick by brick, he’s unraveling me, and I’ve never been more afraid.
Death has nothing on Victor Cordero.
Dying is welcome.
The emotion from the man who’s about to consume me, that’s something I’ll never be ready for. So, instead of fighting him again, I arch my back, needing him close. I want to feel his warmth.
Meeting those honey colored eyes, I whisper the words he wants to hear, “I do, Victor, I hate you.” It’s then that he steals my breath with a kiss that not only eliminates my fear, it also consumes my soul. All the good, all the light I had hidden inside, is now only engulfed by the black and red of Victor and his family crest.
My fingers tangle in his dark hair. It’s soft, silky, and I tug him closer. My legs wrap around his waist, the heels of my feet dig into his ass, feeling the fibers of the suit pants he’s wearing.
I want more. So much fucking more that I whimper when he pulls away from me. “This,” he tells me, planting a kiss on my lips, “is going to make you mine. Are you ready for it?”
“No.” The word is honest. It’s the most honesty I’ve given anyone in a long time. “I hate you. I’m so scared of you, I feel like I have a hole inside me,” I tell him.
“Good.” My brows furrow in confusion at his response. Only to have him reach for my face, pressing my cheeks together, he leans in further and allows me to swallow his reply, “because I’m the fucking monster you’ll fear. I know you like when I hurt you, juguete,” he murmurs.
“Please.”
His fingers latch onto my neck, squeezing until I see black spots. “I bet your pretty little cunt is wet right now. You’ll feel so good when I finally fuck you.”
“Then do it.”
He moves swiftly, shoving my panties and shorts down my legs. A second later, his face is between my thighs, his hands holding them wide. His heated gaze lands on my pussy, finding my core drenched with arousal for him. Just for him.
He doesn’t speak, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I want to close my legs, but the force he’s holding me with doesn’t allow it. Pushing up onto my elbows, I meet those beautiful endless pools of liquid gold before his mouth lands on my pussy.
His lips are warm, his tongue snakes into me, licking and laving at me like I’m a delicacy. As if I’m the last meal he’s about to eat, and he’s not letting anything go to waste. His fingers dig into my thighs, and I know they’ll leave marks in their wake.
Bruised by the beast.
Toyed with by the monster.
Devoured by the devil.
My fingers curl in his hair, holding him against me as my hips rise up. I’ve never experienced anything like this; yet, I know I’m about to come. My toes curl when Victor finally releases one thigh, and his fingers dip into my drenched core.
“You’re far too fucking tight, Sofía,” he whispers against my sensitive flesh, then sucks my clit into his
mouth while two fingers plunge into me. Both digits dip as deep as they can before he finds my resistance. I knew he would, but what I didn’t expect was for him to continue deeper, to push through the barrier, causing pain and pleasure to mingle.
A turbulent force wrenches me from the bed, and I’m arching, crying out, and tearing at his hair as I feel some strange release of pleasured pain ripping through me. He rises, his body shaking, as he shoves down his slacks, along with his boxers.
There’s a thick, angry erection jutting in my direction, and I watch in awe as he fists his thickness with the hand that’s now stained with my virginity. He jerks himself, slow and steady, as he looks between my thighs.
“Please, fuck me,” I plead, stupidly, like a teen with a crush on the hottest boy at school, it’s how Victor makes me feel.
A sinful smirk toys with his lips, teasing me as he coats his cock with the evidence of me on the smooth, velvety skin. He presses the tip against me, and I buck up to add pressure to the one place I need it most.
He continues to rub my entrance, up and down, with his now seeping tip. It doesn’t take long before I feel a wave of pleasure about to crash through me. The moment Victor’s warmth hits my mound, I cry out his name, once, twice, and a third time, as my eyes roll back in my head.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I finally open my eyes, but when I do, I notice I’m under the covers. I’m hidden from his haunting gaze, but my limbs bear the weight of what I’d just experienced.
“You didn’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
It’s then I realize he had his mouth down there. Hiding behind my hands, I peek at him through my fingers, hoping the ground would swallow me, and utter, “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
