Their Cartel Princess: The Complete Series: A Dark Reverse Harem Box Set

by Logan Fox

  He walked up to it, hands in his pocket.

  A nearby street lamp glistened off a pistol’s barrel as its shadow-shrouded owner pointed it in his direction.

  Kane lifted both hands, letting out a low chuckle. “I come in peace,” he said, his voice bursting with repressed laughter.

  The pistol lowered, but only an inch. “Where is she?”

  Kane stepped forward, bending at the waist so he could lean his elbows on the rolled down passenger window. Someone moved inside the sedan’s cab before a dull orange light illuminated the interior.

  Two men, both Caucasians, stared at him. The driver watched with blue eyes, while the man holding the gun narrowed dark eyes in Kane’s direction.

  “Where is she?” the man holding the pistol repeated.

  “Think she’s going to be out here, in this miserable weather?” Kane held out a hand, catching a few raindrops on his palm. “With that expensive haircut of hers?”

  The passenger barked out a laugh, turning to the driver as if sharing a private joke. “Don’t doubt that for a second,” he said.

  The lilt of his Irish accent was stronger now, as if he tried to suppress it when speaking with strangers.

  He turned back to Kane, gesturing with the pistol. “So you’ve got the money?”

  Kane gave a small shrug, glancing away down the road. It was empty this late at night; deserted because of the shitty weather. “I’m afraid there isn’t any.”

  “What?” the man growled. He stuck the pistol against the side of Kane’s throat. “That little bitch promised us—”

  “Victor,” came the quiet voice of the driver. “Put it down.”

  Victor gave the driver a confused glance, but he lowered the gun anyway. Kane dipped his head, studying the driver as the man shifted in his seat to face Kane.

  “Do you have our drugs?”

  “No drugs, no money.” Kane gripped his elbows, leaning deeper inside the car so he could better communicate with the driver. “But La Sombra did tell me to send you her sincerest apologies.”

  Blue eyes studied him, catching a strange light thrown from something outside. A flicker of red and blue.

  “Her apologies won’t satisfy our boss,” the driver said. “He’s expecting a shipment of heroin. At least, the return of our money, with interest.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Kane asked. “I’m just the messenger.”

  “How about we shoot the messenger?” Victor barked. “Huh? Send a message of our own. Let that fucking bitch know who—”

  “No,” the driver said calmly. He wore leather gloves that creaked as he adjusted his grip around the steering wheel. “Your name?”

  “Simon,” Kane said.

  “Get in, Simon.” The driver gestured toward the back door. “I’m sure my boss would like to discuss this matter with you.”

  Kane gave a reluctant shrug. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really,” the driver said, tugging at the hem of his glove. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you have a few seconds to mull it over.”

  The back door clicked as the driver opened it. Kane slid inside, slamming it closed behind him. The driver met his eyes in the rear view mirror as the inside of the cab filled with the insistent drumming of rain.

  “Say, whatever happened to that cocky kid of Martin’s?” Victor asked as the driver put the car into gear.

  “Neo?” Kane shrugged and turned to look out the window. “Last I heard, he had his tongue cut out for being a snitch.”

  The driver tsked as he pulled away and guided the car down the road. “By whom?” he asked casually.

  “La Sombra, of course,” Kane said through a laugh. “Right before she lit him on fire.”

  V

  Her King

  Prologue

  Several Weeks Earlier

  “We going to your motel or what?” the hooker in the hot-pink Dry Mac asked.

  Kane Price glanced over at her before replying. The stench of wet hair and cheap perfume lingered in the Jeep’s cab. Cigarette smoke too—he’d lit himself one but because of the steady rain only kept the window open a crack.

  The hooker didn’t seem to mind.

  “I don’t fuck in motels,” Kane said.

  “So where are we going?” She sounded uneasy.

  Mercy, she was just a girl — was she even old enough to drink?

  “What’s your name, beautiful?”

  She looked in his direction. There was a tiny frown between her eyebrows. “Cinnamon.”

  “That’s a stripper’s name. What’s your real name?”

  She shifted, glancing out the window. “Seriously, man, this is taking too long. I told you—”

  “Then I’ll call you Beatrice.”

  The girl gave a delicate snort. “Yuck.” She shrugged her shoulders and beckoned at him with her fingers. “Can I have a smoke?”

  “If you tell me your name.” He dropped his voice low, and the effect on the girl was immediate. Her lips parted. Her legs clenched together and her throat moved as she swallowed.

  “Veronica.”

  “Veronica,” he repeated, caressing each syllable.

  “Yeah,” she murmured, now unable to look away.

  Kane indicated, and pulled into an underground parking lot. He waited for the machine to spit out his ticket and then drove inside. His tires squealed as he made a right and headed for the far back of the lot.

  Thankfully, a light was out. Dark shadows hung from the walls, draping his black Jeep the instant he parked.

  “Here?”

  “I could keep driving…”

  “No, there’s no time. I gotta get back before Ricky—”

  Kane leaned over the Jeep’s center console and slid a hand behind Veronica’s neck.

  Her skin was damp, but warm. He drew her closer, and she stiffened.

  Her brown eyes caught the distant lights, sparkling when she studied his face. “I don’t—” she began uneasily.

  “I do,” Kane murmured. “And I’m paying, remember?”

  She shifted in her seat, but let him pull her closer. Their lips met, and Kane kissed her as softly as if this was their first date. Her muscles stiffened, then she relaxed against him. His good looks made this much easier. Had he been a redneck wearing a stained wife-beater, she’d never have gotten in his car — hooker or no.

  Veronica made a soft sound, and it almost sounded like genuine pleasure.

  That was something he’d always wondered about prostitutes — did they ever enjoy the sex Johns paid them for, or did they just make sounds as they pulled O faces, hoping to speed along their client’s climax so they could take their money and fuck off?

  Kane touched her inner leg just above her knee, never letting his kiss intensify more than a gentle lover’s caress. Veronica’s plain brown dress came to mid-thigh. She’d paired the outfit with knee-length boots; their stiletto heels doubled as self-defense weapons.

  They had to go.

  As autonomously as a well-trained circus animal, she parted her legs for him.

  But instead of heading north, he trailed his fingers south. He found the zip on her left boot and slowly drew it down.

  Veronica shifted, briefly breaking their kiss to speak. He darted forward, catching her lips with his. This time, he touched her hesitantly with his tongue. She made that sound again, and it was undeniably a gentle moan of pleasure.

  Yes, Veronica. I know how to make out. I definitely know how to fuck. You’re thinking this is your lucky day — for once, the money will be a bonus.

  He slid off her left boot, then the right.

  In the distance, a car’s tires squealed against concrete. But normal people avoided dark spots like theirs—lights didn’t even flash in their direction as the newcomer turned to the left to find a parking spot in a better lit bay.

  With Veronica’s boots off, he moved to the Dry Mac. With even the smallest of movements, the polyester crumpled — a sound as irritating
as nails down a chalkboard.

  Veronica didn’t seem to notice. In fact, even when he slid down both the straps on her dress, her only reaction was another moan.

  Then again, that could have been him sucking on her tongue, urging her to deepen their kiss.

  He broke off, breathing harder than he needed.

  “Fuck,” he murmured, putting his forehead against hers so their breath mingled. “Jesus, I didn’t think…”

  He trailed away on purpose, and the girl came to a few seconds later. “What’s wrong?” she whispered. Concern had drawn deeper shadows between her brows.

  “I… I’ve never… I don’t know how this—”

  She let out a surprised, “Oh…” If she’d been thinking straight, she’d have known this couldn’t have been his first time at anything. But people made make-belief a large part of their lives — the shittier their existence, the more elaborate the fairy tales.

  Veronica let out a long breath. “Let’s… let’s get in the back seat.”

  She didn’t wait for him to reply; clambering through the gap in the two front seats gave him a flash of her perfect ass and the thong that did such a terrible job at covering it.

  A trio of butterflies were tattooed on one cheek.

  Kane got out and opened the truck’s back door. Veronica turned to face him, her eyes wide and wet as the cabin light came on.

  He ran his gaze over her, taking in every detail.

  Hardened nipples poked at the filmy fabric of her dress. Her lips were parted, cheeks flushed. Her damp hair was a mess around her face, but she didn’t smooth it back or even seem to notice. Veronica’s gaze was on him, hooded with anticipation, her fingertips trembling where she held onto the backseat. Her legs were up, spread, her pink thong a shade darker - damp with her arousal.

  Kane got in.

  He closed the door.

  The cabin light blinked out, shrouding them in semi-darkness.

  Her breath seemed to echo in the car, drawing him closer. A woman panting, whether in fear or ecstasy, was the sweetest song. He would hear both from Veronica before they parted ways today, and the thought made his dick harden painfully inside his jeans.

  But he welcomed that pain; it always made his release that much more pleasurable.

  He stalked closer on hands and knees and found her mouth with his. It took barely any pressure for him to force her onto her back.

  Her legs climbed over his waist, encircling him. He pushed down on her flat belly to keep her place as he teased her.

  Still kissing her, their breath mingling in a sweet cocktail of saliva and raspberry chewing gum, he trailed his hand up her inner thigh and touched her.

  He’d have thought her desensitized, but that butterfly caress made her shudder under him.

  Stroking her with his fingertips, he forced his tongue between her lips. Rougher this time, demanding more of her wet mouth.

  She complied like the slave she was; her mouth parted, and her legs fell open.

  He stroked her through her thong with his knuckles and then pulled on the fabric so it slid between her folds.

  Veronica became breathless, and their kiss ended.

  “W-what can I do?” Kane mumbled into her hair, injecting uncertainty into his voice in the form of a light stammer.

  “Whatever the fuck you want,” came Veronica’s breathless reply.

  Kane groaned and tried kissing her again. She responded at first, but become comatose under him as the strokes he lavished on her cunt became harder and slower.

  Veronica let out a deep-throated moan when he grabbed her and squeezed.

  “You’re so wet,” he said.

  She shifted under him. “Fuck me then.”

  “Not… not yet.” More uncertainty—a man finding his way through a strange, dark forest.

  Veronica didn’t complain.

  He slid his hand behind her underwear, touching her cunt, and guided two fingers inside her.

  She shuddered and grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to get in another kiss. He let her… this time. After all, she tasted good, and it heightened her pleasure, which made her wetter and more pliable.

  He tugged her thong down, guiding her thighs around his waist to allow him to pull it off. When she moved to spread her legs again, he stopped her.

  “What’s wrong?” she burst out, voice shrill with sudden anxiety.

  “Nothing. I just…” He pushed himself to his knees and unbuckled his belt. “Would you mind… could you…?”

  Veronica pushed herself up, her movements frantic. When he took too long with his buckle, she ripped it open. Her hand disappeared behind his fly, grabbing his cock with greedy fingers.

  “Oh,” she said breathlessly.

  Then she sat forward, pushing him onto his back and leaning over him as she freed his cock.

  She pumped him with skilled hands, and he rewarded her with a groan. She put her lips to his dick and sucked at his crown; gently at first and then hard enough to make him press a fist against his mouth to muffle his moan.

  As she stroked his length, she worked his cock into her mouth, one inch at a time. Her saliva provided the perfect lubricant. As it dribbled down his shaft, she smeared it over his cock, never letting a drop go to waste.

  Fuck, if he didn’t check himself, he’d be coming in her mouth.

  Not today.

  There was only one way he would climax today.

  “I’m too close,” he said, pushing her away by the shoulder.

  “But—”

  “Can I fuck you? I want to fuck you.”

  She let out a stammered, “Y-yeah, of course,” and moved away from him, waiting.

  “Outside,” he said, voice husky with lust. “Please.”

  “Out…? Okay.” Veronica struggled a moment with her door before clambering out. She was a silhouette against the Jeep’s windows.

  It was dark enough that he didn’t need those tinted windows today. Even if he fucked her right here in the open, no one would see them.

  His cock ached at the thought. He hurried out his side of the Jeep, meeting her at the hood.

  “How do you—?” she began.

  He grasped her shoulders, spun her around, and forced her against the fender with his hips.

  Veronica let out a gasp that transformed into a low moan when he caught a hold of his dick and pressed it against her soaked slit.

  “Can I go hard?” His voice was tight from how hard he was, how much he ached to be inside her. But he made himself ask. His voice even trembled.

  He would keep this little game going till the end. Right. To. The. End.

  “Yes,” Veronica breathed. “Fuck me hard.”

  She held onto the top of the fender, pushing her rump out and spreading her legs.

  Perfect.

  He wove a hand in her hair, ripped her head back, and thrust violently into her.

  She let out a breathless sound, her entire body stiffening as she clamped over his dick; fighting him like a wounded animal fought its prey.

  But the second she’d got into his car, her fate had been sealed. Fuck — perhaps even the instant she’d looked up and made eye contact with him through the drizzle.

  He throbbed inside her, his dick relishing her hot, wet walls gripping him. He eased out and forced his way back in. This wrenched another gasp from her.

  Kane used his other hand to cup her ass, stroking his thumb over the dark smudge that was her tattoo. Their bodies were nothing but smudges themselves, this deep in the shadows.

  Pain spiked through his head. Kane squeezed his eyes shut, gripping hard onto Veronica as the floor became spongy. The dark became all encompassing—surrounding him, suffocating him, invading him. He tried to hold on, to keep himself here, to stay conscious.

  As always, it was a futile struggle.

  Simon opened his eyes to a dark parking lot.

  He’d always loved the dark’s welcoming embrace, the way it shrouded everything—the good, the bad… the evil
. Once his eyes adjusted, an image emerged: Veronica, spread eagled against the hood, her back to him.

  His fingers worked Veronica’s wetness over her clit, and he rubbed her hard enough to draw a gasp from her. Her legs shifted wider still, and her back arched as she let out a moan.

  “Come on, sugar,” Simon murmured, leaning against her so she would feel his cock. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

  “So bad,” she said in a tight voice. “I want it so bad.”

  “You sure you can handle it?”

  A breathless, “Yes!”

  “No shit,” Simon said, gripping his length in a fist as he dragged his tip along Veronica’s cunt. “You’re a fucking whore. This is what you do.”

  Veronica stiffened at that. When he sank an inch inside her, she melted again.

  She shouldn’t have dismissed him.

  Maybe before, but not now.

  Simon grabbed her throat and wrenched her up, but he kept a hand on her lower back so her hips were flush with the hood.

  The angle must have been uncomfortable; Veronica began to struggle.

  So he forced his cock deeper until there was no more space inside her.

  It felt good. But not great. Great would come in a few minutes.

  Fuck — with her in this darkness, it might even be spectacular.

  Simon thrust again before she had time to gasp. Veronica pushed into him to speed up his thrusts, but he had her trapped between the fender and his hips. Her body was as rigid as his cock, and his stone-carved muscles. If she wanted freedom, she’d have to fight for it. It wouldn’t help, but it would make this more fun.

  He squeezed her throat, drawing an unsteady sound from her. Panic, or pleasure? She writhed under him, her hands going for her clit to force a climax.

  Simon snagged her wrists and gripped them against her lower back. He fucked her harder, tightening his hand around her neck until her pulse races under his thumb.

  “Sorry, sugar, but I don’t care if you come or not. This is all about me.”

  Veronica let out a strained mewl.

  Simon gave an inch of room between his hips and hers. Now, when he fucked her, she slammed into the hood every time. Her mewls became gasps of pain.