His eyes narrowed. “I just fucked you hard against the wall.”
“I’m talking about blow jobs. You want to shove my head down on your cock, don’t you?”
God, could she talk any dirtier and get him all riled up and ready to explode?
“So do it,” she said.
Migs wasn’t about to disappoint his wife on what was technically their wedding night. He sat up and scooted against the headboard. “Take off my shorts.”
Her eyes flashed and he was damned sure she was soaking. She did as she was told, and she slid off his clothing and his cock sprang up proudly between them.
“Now suck. If you choke, I’m going to push myself deeper.”
Ariana kneeled between his spread thighs and without hesitation, swallowed him again. “Faster.”
She mumbled something that sounded like make me.
He buried his fingers in her hair. Seeing her dark hair spread all over his crotch was the stuff of wet dreams. He’d carry the image of this for-fucking-ever. She was being a tease again, forcing him to push her head down to take more of him. They got into a rhythm, and the minx was playing with her clit as she was fucking him with her mouth.
Could Migs be any luckier?
The suction came faster, she was taking him deeper, he expected her to gag. When he tried to ease her off, her teeth scraped the skin of his cock.
“Dammit!” he growled and shoved her head down. Vibrations came from the back of her throat. Holy Fuck, she’d taken him all the way to the hilt!
“Ariana,” he choked. “I’m going to come. Get off now.”
Her answer was the tightest stroke up and her tongue swirling around the underside of the head of his dick.
Game over.
He exploded into her mouth, fell back helplessly against the headboard as his body was wracked by the most incredible blow job of his life.
“You’ve blinded me, woman,” he said hoarsely. When he managed to focus on the person responsible for the exquisite pleasure, she was still kneeling between his legs, sitting back on her ankles and eyeing him with some kind of triumphant smugness.
“You’re big,” she said softly. “I thought I couldn’t take all of you.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to.” He leaned forward and cupped a side of her jaw, noting her watery eyes. Shit. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” she said. “It’s like I conquered Everest.”
Migs chuckled. “C’mere.” He drew his wife beside him, an overwhelming possessiveness had him crushing her to his side as the meaning of finally consummating their marriage dawned on him. “You exaggerate, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Her muffled laughter dislodged a muscle in his chest. There was an urge to pull away, to hide from the slew of emotions running through him, emotions he’d kept locked down to keep his secrets from his family. But the urge to stay was stronger, and the need to bask in the afterglow with Ariana was addictive, so he remained where he was.
His wife in his arms.
His heart at her mercy.
Something visceral changed between them. As Ariana snuggled close to her husband’s chest, her mind couldn’t comprehend this utter feeling of contentment. She couldn’t believe that the total uncertainty that started their day would end on a high note. Her mouth curved in satisfaction as her hand moved over Migs’ taut abs down the trail of hair leading to his sizable erection that hadn’t gone down yet.
“You have a beautiful cock,” she murmured, tracing the veins on the smooth skin as if it were a work of art.
“Jesus, woman,” Migs laughed. “Give me ten minutes.”
She glanced up at him. “Ten minutes is all you need to recharge?”
He scowled at her. “You don’t want me to tell you the truth, do you?”
“Ha. Men and their egos.” She rested her head on his chest again. “I’m already impressed you were able to get it up so soon after you took me against the wall.”
“I’ve been a monk since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
Her brows furrowed. “That long?”
“You were hell on wheels, Ariana, not only to my job, but also to my balls,” he deadpanned.
“I remember the first day you came into the clinic.” She murmured, full of nostalgia. “I thought you were just one of my brothers’ men.”
“I was.”
“You were all brusque and growly.”
“And you were all sassy and shit.”
She laughed. “What did you expect?”
“Miss prissy pants.”
“I told my brother that I couldn’t have his gang bangers show up and scare my customers. They needed to wear a uniform of khakis and black tees.”
A grunt rumbled in his chest. “You got your wish. I had to shop for khakis, otherwise I’d be off your protection detail.” Migs had black tees, but he detested khakis and Ariana didn’t approve of those multi-pocketed versions.
“So you thought I was Raul’s spoiled sister?”
“At first.”
Ariana extracted herself from the furnace of his body and sat cross-legged in front of him. Migs’ gaze wavered on her boobs before it lifted to her face. She rolled her eyes. “So tell me, since we’re being honest, when did you think otherwise?”
“When we were at the charity drive. I saw how you genuinely cared for people.” His eyes darkened. “Understand, babe, that I was fighting my own attraction to you, that’s why I was as you call it ‘brusque and growly’.”
“I didn’t really like you at first.”
“I didn’t notice.” He chuckled. “Let me guess. You thought anyone who worked for your brother was crooked.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No.”
“But then you started showing your marshmallow side.”
Migs groaned. “Again with the marshmallow references. Just stop.”
She wouldn’t. She clearly recalled the exact moment she discovered his sweet side. That time when she was curled in a ball, hiding in her room with the worst period cramps. “Remember that time I didn’t come out for dinner and you knocked on my bedroom door.”
“You scared the shit out of me when you moaned in pain.”
“You broke down the door.”
“It was locked,” he muttered. “If you would’ve just taken a damned pain killer, but no, you had to suffer through it.”
“You knew what to do when you found out it was period cramps. Now I know it’s because you have five sisters.” He had found a screw top bottle of wine and poured out its contents and made her a hot water bottle. And then he held her until the pain went away. Afterward, he got her a cute fluffy heating pad. She began to see him differently then.
He grunted again.
“You don’t have to hide your sweet side, Migs,” she whispered. “Not from me.”
Her breath caught when his eyes turned fierce.
“Come here,” he ordered.
“But I like talking face to face.”
“And it’s the first opportunity that we’re both naked and I’m not wasting a second talking.”
She huffed. “Men.” But ended up squealing when he yanked her into him and before she knew it, she was pinned under a very aroused man. “Again?” she was surprised.
Migs chuckled. “I’m not there yet, but you are very potent for a man’s libido.” He frowned. “I have half a mind to hide you from the eyes of men forever, or maybe I’ll have Abbi Mena make you a dress out of a flour sack.”
“Are you serious?”
Instead of answering, he kissed her. It was almost like a shut-up kiss. Ariana spread her thighs and he settled between them. His hardness against her softness, a tangle of limbs and sheets, skin damp from the heat of sex, Migs worshipped her body with his tongue. This time he gave special attention to her breasts, taking his time there and then he went down on her again. And Ariana had her third multiple orgasm of the night.
By the time he flipped her on her belly and
pulled her hips back against his pelvis, she was ready for more of him. He rammed inside and her breath caught in a gasp, welcoming the fullness of his shaft. He pounded into her without mercy, and she had to grip the sheets to keep from sliding. He folded over her and twisted her neck into his kiss. Then he came with a muffled grunt and they fell on the bed, exhausted.
Ariana rolled to her side, blissfully sated. She felt Migs leave the bed, moving around the room to probably get rid of the condom.
She barely registered his return, only feeling the refuge of his body engulfing her from behind. And for the first time ever, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
18
As the days passed into weeks, Migs began to see how Ariana was finding her footing in his family. It was easy to be overwhelmed by the sheer personalities of his sisters, but his wife was no shrinking violet either, and he loved her for it.
Love?
He tested the word on his tongue. He’d used it a couple of times to describe certain things about Ariana, but he’d been having a mental block with figuring out how he actually felt for her.
Bang!
The blast of a .45 echoed in the clearing and brought his thoughts back to the present. Three women were shooting cans of varying sizes off the trunk of a fallen tree.
Ariana was giving Bella and Leticia pistol shooting lessons. There were many things Raul Ortega did wrong when it came to family, but some things he got right. It was not unheard of, when your family was immersed in the narco life, that they were taught how to defend themselves. Ariana knew how to fire a gun, and she was a pretty damned good shot. In regards to self-defense, she still had more work to do in Migs’ opinion and he was anxious to help her improve.
“Ah, bullseye, Lettie, good job!” Ariana and her sister Bella applauded.
“I’m not cut out for this,” Bella whined. Her shot earlier had missed the mark by a mile.
“It’s not your fault,” Ariana said. “I think you just need a different grip on this gun.”
She glanced at Migs. “Can you find something else for her? She’s limp-wristing this one.”
“She’s anticipating the recoil,” he said dryly.
“You all say that, but I don’t know what that means,” Bella grumbled.
Leon joined them and walked straight to Bella and handed her a different piece. “Here. Try this.”
She weighed the new gun in her hand. “Hey, this feels better.”
“The gun chooses its master,” Lettie said solemnly.
Bella rolled her eyes.
“Remember, hold it like this.” Ariana went behind his sister and guided her arms and fixed her stance. “Shoulders back, feet square. No … finger off the trigger, remember? Not until you’re ready.”
Leon backed away from the women and took his place beside Miguel. “Joaquín gave his statement to the DEA.”
“About fucking time.”
Bang!
“She almost got it,” Leon murmured as the women did another assessment of Bella’s shot before she went back into position.
“I’ve also reviewed security at the country club. All the employees’ backgrounds.”
Migs didn’t say he’d already had Garrison do a security check, and simply nodded.
“The additional security personnel should arrive today,” Leon said. “Thanks for the recommendation.”
Security was a sticking point in the clan and was difficult to coordinate because his cousins, uncles, and aunts had their own people and balked at Alcantara-Walker having autonomy. If Migs had his way, he’d scrap the celebration altogether, but Abbi Mena, who didn’t want to have it in the first place, was adamant about it pushing through.
“This could be a test,” she’d said. “The test of the Alcantara’s mettle. If you back down now, especially after the invitations have been sent, it’ll be seen as a sign of weakness.”
Caught between a rock and a hard place.
He wanted Garrison’s friend, security expert Kade Spear, for his grandmother’s birthday celebration, but he was booked and didn’t have enough resources on such short notice.
Bang!
The sound was followed by the women squealing in excitement—Bella in particular, because she finally hit a can.
“I did it! I did it!”
“Looks like your sisters are becoming ace shots.”
Heaven help them.
Their days followed a routine. After breakfast, if Lettie or Bella were not needed at the warehouse, they would go to the clearing and practice shooting. The afternoons were reserved for practicing the entertainment for the party, and that included dancing the Tango.
Migs hated it. But it was for his grandmother, so he tolerated the endless rehearsals. Besides, it was an excuse to get his hands on Ariana. It was their foreplay and it led to many rigorous evenings of sex. A time of day he anticipated very much.
On their way back from shooting practice, Delia intercepted him. Ariana eyed him warily, but he smiled and told them to go ahead to the kitchen and eat. That was another thing that was routine. Constant cooking. Constant eating. Abbi Mena always had something simmering on the stove or baking in the oven. Having nothing else to do, especially when Migs was off fixing fences with Leon, Ariana would help his grandmother in the kitchen. They’d become very close. As for his mother, there’d been an initial coolness right after the warehouse raid, but she was slowly warming up to Ariana again.
“What’s up, Mamá?”
“I need a quick word with you.” Delia smiled. To Migs’ relief, she extended that smile to his wife as well. Who knew tension between his mother and Ariana could occupy his headspace as much as his concerns for his family’s safety? Knowing that it had resolved itself was certainly one more thing off his mind.
He followed his mother to his parents’ room. She headed straight for her closet, pushing clothes aside to reveal a hidden compartment.
“I didn’t know when to give this to you, but with your grandmother’s celebration in ten days, I thought this would be the right time.”
She went through the combination and opened the safe, extracting a metal jewelry box carved with an ornate scroll design. Delia lifted the lid, extended the accordion layers, and picked up some pieces from the bottom one and laid them on his palm.
Migs’ jaw dropped, taking in the brilliance of the diamond necklace, earrings, and bracelet.
“This set belonged to your tatarabuela. I had it cleaned recently,” Delia said. “When you were born, Mami gave it to me and said it was an heirloom from her mamá.” His eyes shifted to hers and saw her smile apologetically. “I’m sorry it took me so long to give it to you. I wanted to be sure.”
He knew what she meant, but he needed to hear the words. “Sure of what?”
“That Ariana loves you, because, Miguel, I can see that you love her.”
He stared at the jewelry again. “I’m that obvious?”
Delia laughed lightly. “A mother’s instinct tells me you are. I’m not sure if Ariana knows.”
He swallowed hard and peered at his mother under guarded eyes. “I haven’t told her.” He sighed. “She hasn’t said anything either.”
“Ah, mijo, are you afraid to say it first?”
“It’s not that. I don’t want to rush her. I already rushed our marriage and it looks like I lied to her about giving her the protection of our name.”
“Stop using that as an excuse. You’re building a marriage here, right?”
“Yes.”
“Tell her soon. If you feel it don’t hold back.” She picked up another piece from the box. “Tell her with this.”
Nestled with the other jewelry on his palm was an antique diamond ring. “That was the engagement ring Papá gave Mamá.”
“I can’t take this.”
“I never wore it because Drew gave me one from his mother too.”
“Why didn’t Abbi Mena give it to Tio Pepito or the other tios?” His mother had two other brothers.
�
��Honestly?” His mother leaned in conspiratorially. “I don’t think she liked who they married. Too elitista she said. You know how your abuela is so connected to the land. An engagement ring is meant to go to a son’s wife.”
Migs chuckled. “So it’s mine by default?”
“You are a good brother, a good son. Ah, Miguel, you’ll make such a good husband. Ariana is lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have her, too,” he said quietly.
“I can see that,” she said. “I’m sorry if I made her uncomfortable. The situation at the warehouse spooked me a bit. I got worried and I lashed out at the person easiest to blame. You’ll understand when you have children.” She sighed. “I’m over that now. I see how Ari has been good for this family. I promise to be a better mother-in-law.”
Migs’ heart squeezed. He saw the remorse on her face and how could he blame a mother’s natural reaction to circumstances.
He drew his mamá into his arms and hugged her. “Nothing to be sorry about. Ariana understands, believe me. You are both incredible women.”
Leaning back, Delia raised her brow. “You’re being diplomatic. I’m not forgetting you still need a church wedding. Father Tomas will lecture you that a husband’s duty is to his wife first. Now put those away somewhere until you’re ready to give them to Ariana.”
When Migs returned to the kitchen, he was surprised to see Lettie was the only one there.
“Where’s everyone?”
His sister looked harried, mixing a pitcher of iced tea and then arranging snacks on a tray. She was muttering about surprise guests who expected to be treated like the British monarchy. “Good. You’re here. Why don’t you carry the iced tea with the glasses.”
“Lettie.” He waited until his sister gave him her full attention, which was a stretch as her eyes were unfocused when she looked at him. He would even hasten to guess she was irritated. “Where’s everyone?” he repeated.
“They’re in the living room—dancing,” Lettie said.
“We usually do that in the afternoon.”
“Oh, and Hector is here.” His sister said, shoving him the tray bearing the pitcher and the glasses. “He wanted to show off his dancing skills. If you ask me, he just wants to show off to Abbi Mena. Kiss ass.”
Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2) Page 17
