El Pecador : El Santo Book 2

by M. Robinson

She narrowed her eyes and spoke with conviction, “You’re nothing but a cock to me, like every other man I’ve fucked. I will never be yours. Do you understand me?”

  I forcefully yanked her head back further, taking ahold of her face and squeezing her jaw. Needing her to see she wasn’t going to win this power struggle between us. I’d make her beg for my cock and scream out my name. Wanting to prove my point she had always been mine.

  No matter what.

  She. Was. Mine.

  Her knee jerked up trying to nail me in the balls. Instantly making me release my hold to block her revenge. She turned, crawling away from me on the pool table to put some distance between us.

  “Oh, fuck no!” I grabbed onto her ankle, dragging her ass back toward me, not making it easier on her by any means. She fell forward with an oomph, and I used the momentum to lift her to her feet in front of me. Holding her back against my chest with my forearm locking her in place. “You’re not going anywhere. We’re not done here,” I coaxed into her ear.

  Before she could argue, her head flew back connecting with my face, her heel stomping on my foot at the same time. Catching me completely off guard, letting her go again. She rapidly spun around and shoved me backward.

  “Motherfucker,” I groaned, smashing into the drywall behind me.

  “I call the shots in this house,” she roared, tearing open my shirt. Sending buttons flying everywhere, pinging off the marble floors. Her chest rose and fell, waiting for my next move.

  “This is how you want to play?”

  “Why? Are you scared?”

  I charged her, throwing her on a nearby table. Our mouths crashing together in a sinful dance of want and need. She undid my belt, working my button and zipper, unable to get them open fast enough. Pulling out my hard cock and aggressively stroking it back and forth while I crudely tore the bottom of her dress up her thighs.

  “You want to play rough, don’t you, baby?” I throatily rasped, sucking her tongue into my mouth.

  Throwing her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, she impaled her body onto mine. Causing me to stumble back, hitting another wall from the force of her fervent assault. She kicked her heels off, sending them to the floor with a thud. Her nails clawed at my neck, my chest, my back. My hand went to her throat and the other on her hip, gripping hard. Applying ample pressure to both. Wanting to mark her body the only way I could, like she was doing to mine. I spun us back around, hitting a doorway between the living and dining room where I pushed her against the frame, and in one swift thrust I was deep inside of her.

  “Fuck,” I groaned loudly against her parted lips as she hissed into mine. Crying out but not saying a word.

  She placed her feet on the threshold behind me, still straddling my waist, using it as leverage to ride my cock. I dug my fingers into her ass, rolling her hips to fuck me harder and faster. There was nothing sweet about what we were doing to each other.

  It was primal.

  It was heady.

  It was angry fucking.

  There would come another time and place where I would take my time, and make sweet love to her. Now was not it.

  Every thrust inside her, she felt the mass of my body movement inching her a little higher each time. Savoring the velvety feel of my mouth claiming hers, her pussy throbbing against my shaft, and her G-spot pulsating along the head of my cock. Over and over again.

  “I’m going to come,” she panted.

  I drove in and out of her a few more times before I pulled away, needing to look into her eyes.

  “Don’t,” she breathed out, pushing my face away. Knowing exactly what I was trying to see.

  “Muñeca, I lov—”

  She bit down hard on my neck, throwing her torso against my body. Sending off a domino effect of destruction in our wake.

  Not with her safe house.

  With our emotions.

  Our ravenous bodies and rage had taken control. My back hit a few more walls, her back hit others, sending drywall to the ground beneath our feet. Picture frames crashed into our skin as we both battled to try to be the one in control.

  Of our minds.

  Our bodies.

  Our goddamn souls.

  Spiraling out of control in a frenzy from the feel of our mouths and bodies colliding. Coming together for the first time since I left her all those years ago. She could feel it as much as I could. It was lingering in both of our chaos.

  Each thrust.

  Every moan.

  All of it.

  Brought back the memories both of us spent years trying to forget. I fucked her harder and with more determination standing against a wall. Her heart was beating as fast as mine. I kissed her passionately with everything left inside of me. Needing her to understand my shame and remorse.

  My agony of leaving her behind.

  “Ah! I’m going to come…”

  I caged her in with my arms against the refrigerator door, trying to look into her eyes again, but she fought me off. She pushed away my face, shoving away my mouth from touching hers. “Stop!” Desperately and deliberately, wanting to literally fuck me out of the depths of her soul.

  I furiously attempted to block her assault, fueling her need to come. Probably fueling her hatred for me and what I was trying to prove, too.

  That she still fucking loved me.

  “Stop it, Damien!” she screamed in both pleasure and pain. Clawing, biting, hitting me all over.

  I took it because I deserved it.

  “Muñeca, I lov—”

  She pushed off my shoulders, unlocked her legs from around my waist, and slid down my body. Nearly taking my cock with her. Without saying a word, she stood and pushed me as hard as she could. Immediately turning her back on me, about to walk away. I caught her wrist before she even took a step, spinning her back around, and pushing her chest onto the granite countertop in front of us.

  I gripped onto her hair from the nook of her neck, yanking her head back. In one strong, quick thrust, I was back inside of her, making her breathing hitch. Taking her from behind.

  “This what you want, Amira? Me to fuck you? Eh? Like this?” I mercilessly pounded into her, harder and faster. My balls drenched from her wetness. The slapping sound of our skin-on-skin contact echoed in the kitchen. “You want me to fuck you like a whore? Hmmm… Answer me!” I seethed, slapping her ass.

  “Yes...” she uttered, knowing damn well she didn’t mean it.

  “That’s it, baby… squeeze my cock with your tight cunt. I can’t get enough of you. Just like that.”

  She gasped, her body shuddered the closer she got to her release.

  “Is this what you have been thinking about for the last twelve years?” I accused, with no empathy or sympathy behind my words. “Me fucking you. Using you so I could leave you behind. Because that’s all I ever wanted, right? To fuck you and leave you.”

  I slammed into her, using her hips as leverage. Making her keep up with my vigorous pace.

  “What do you think? Maybe I should have just killed you? It would have made things easier for me, right? I wouldn’t have had to protect you, take care of you, put you above all else!”

  Her knees buckled as my body fell on top of hers. I kissed and bit along her back, leaving more marks on her perfect creamy skin. Never once letting up on my ruthless thrusts.

  “You’re so fucking right. I haven’t been thinking about you for the last twelve years, stroking my cock to the images of your beautiful face every goddamn night. I didn’t try to kill myself, not once! But twice because I couldn’t fucking live without you!”

  “Damien, I’m going to come…” she breathlessly panted, fighting back her truths and tears.

  “So, come. Fucking come on my cock, so you can keep pretending I don’t own every last inch of you. From your heart to your soul, to your goddamn pussy.”

  She cried out, squeezing her thighs with her release. Clamping down on my dick. A growl escaped from deep within my chest, taking me righ
t along with her.

  Our bodies went lax as we both laid on the cool granite, breathing heavily. Our thoughts running marathons, mimicking our fuck session that happened out of pure anger and desperation to feel some sort of connection. I reveled in the brief feeling of her in my arms, shocked she actually let me hold her for a few seconds as if she needed me to.

  “You don’t know the meaning of the word love,” she said out of nowhere, shoving me off her back. Straightening her ripped dress and moving away from me.

  “Yes, I do,” I replied, tucking myself back in my slacks. “You taught it to me.”

  “Well, then the joke’s on you, because I never knew the meaning of the word either. And you taught me that, too. You got what you wanted. We fucked. Consider it closure, now get the fuck out!”

  I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. “I could have my way with you again right now, in the same way I just did. But… I won’t touch you again until you’re truly mine. And trust me, Muñeca. You will be mine, you will admit it. We’re not done here.” I stepped back and left. Leaving her alone and unprotected. Walking out of her life for the second time, even though it was the last thing I wanted to fucking do.

  This was far from over between us.

  In fact, it was only the beginning.

  She would be mine no matter the consequences.

  FIFTEEN

  AMIRA

  “Amira, run faster! You’re always so slow!” Teresa shouted, running in front of me.

  “I am! I am, Teresa! But you’re too fast! I can’t catch up! Slow down! Please slow down!” I yelled back, trying to get to her.

  “I’m not going to slow down, you slowpoke! Come on!” she laughed, about to run into our house.

  I felt them.

  I saw them.

  They were there…

  The monsters.

  “NO! Teresa! Don’t run in there! Please, don’t run in there! They’re in there! I can see them! Please!” I pleaded from a distance.

  I could see it play out in front of me, but it was different than it had been in the past. My voice sounded so far, yet so close at the same time. It echoed all around me, making it difficult to tell if she heard me or not. I blinked and I was back in the cabinet at nine-years-old, except this time everyone could see where I was hiding. They were all staring in my direction.

  But I wasn’t a child this time, I was an adult.

  My family’s arms were reaching out for me while the monsters just stood there and laughed.

  “I’m so disappointed in you, Amira. I never wanted this life for you. You’re just like them. You’re a monster!” Papi roared, stepping further away from me while everyone else came closer.

  “Come on, Amira. Don’t hide like you did before. Come be with your family. We miss you,” Teresa whispered in an eerie tone.

  “I’m sorry, Papi! I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave… please don’t leave me again!”

  “You’re the reason they’re all dead.” Emilio’s face morphed into Damien’s.

  I franticly shook my head, silently praying it would make them go away. Immediately feeling guilty for everything.

  “You left me alone! I had no one! How could you do that to me? You said you loved me, Damien! You said I was yours!” I seethed, trying to walk toward him, but I couldn’t move.

  I blinked again and they all started walking in my direction only now they were covered in blood. It was pouring out of the holes in their heads, soaking every inch of their skin. My hands instantly went to cover my mouth so I wouldn’t scream, but they were drenched in blood, both holding a gun. Pointing directly at them.

  “You’re a monster, Amira… Just like them. You’re exactly like them…” Damien whispered in my ear from behind me.

  “What?” I shouted with tears in my eyes. Raking my hands through my hair as I breathed out profusely. Unable to control any of my emotions from what was happening in front of me. I spun to look at him and when I did, my gun was now directly aimed over his heart.

  “Do it, Muñeca. Pull the trigger. Put me out of my misery.”

  “No! I would never… I’m not like them! I’m not like them, Damien!” I yelled, panic taking over. Trying to wipe their blood off my hands, but it was no use. The more I tried, the more it spread down my arms, my legs.

  My whole body.

  “Amira, it’s time you come with us,” Mami said, getting closer and closer to me. “Come to Hell with us. It’s where you belong!”

  “No! No! No!” My body fervently shook with each word that escaped my mouth. “I don’t want to go there! I’m a good person! I’m not a monster!” I shouted unheard. I was moving my lips and nothing came out.

  I screamed and screamed and screamed.

  I screamed until my throat felt raw and my chest burned. While my heart pounded against my ribs, in my ears, through my mind.

  “Do it, Amira! Kill me! Fucking kill me!” Damien yelled, putting his finger over mine on the trigger. Forcing his hand over mine.

  “No! Please, don’t—”

  “Now we will both go to Hell.” He didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger.

  BANG.

  “No!” I bellowed, shooting straight up in my bed, gasping for air. Panting for my next breath as I stared out aimlessly in front of me. Sweat dripped from my pores, running down the sides of my face and chest. I searched the dimly lit space, trying to rationalize what was real and what was still a dream.

  A fucking nightmare.

  My hand went right over my pounding heart, needing to govern my breathing. “It’s not real. You were just dreaming, Amira. It wasn’t real,” I reasoned with myself the way I used to when I was alone. Slowly breathing in and out with each word derived from my exasperated breaths. Raking my fingers through my hair, I tugged it back away from my face.

  “Fucking Damien,” I exhaled, shaking my head in disbelief. Throwing the sheets off my clammy skin, I placed my feet on the cool wood floor, welcoming the cold rush over my fatigued body. Stretching my sore muscles from the prior night’s power struggle at the safe house.

  I reached for my black robe at the end of the bed and slipped it on over my silk nightie about to walk into the en suite bathroom to take a shower, when I heard a noise coming from inside the house. It sounded like muffled voices, followed by some shuffling around. No one was supposed to be here.

  “What the hell?” I whispered to myself, grabbing my gun from the nightstand.

  Slowly, I opened the bedroom door, making my way toward the noise downstairs. Being extra cautious so I wouldn’t be heard as I made my way closer. I rounded the corner with my gun held tightly in my grasp, pointing it directly at the floor. Tiptoeing lightly down the long, narrow hallway coming off the stairs. I kept my composure calm and steady, knowing damn well my enemies could smell fucking fear, exactly like I could. It made it easier to go into any situation like this undetected, catching them by surprise. Take them out before they even knew what hit them. I knew my strengths and I knew my weaknesses. Especially since I was a woman.

  I shot to kill unless I needed more information, and then I would still shoot them in the dick. Nothing hurt a man more than taking him by the balls. I swiftly moved past the kitchen door way, placing my back against the wall. Peering around the corner for any sign of the son of a bitch. When the coast was clear, I placed one foot in front of the other crossing the threshold. The wood floor creaked beneath my feet at the same moment I saw a shadowy figure reflecting off the kitchen cabinets.

  I aimed toward the direction and shot.

  “Jesus Christ, Amira! It’s just me!” Roman hollered in a thick French accent, ducking behind the kitchen island. His word articulation always revealed itself more when he was caught off guard.

  I sighed, lowering my gun. “What the fuck are you doing here? I could have killed you!”

  He was over to me in three long strides, ripping the gun out of my grasp. “How many times do I have to tell you to control your fucking trigger-happy finger?
”

  “I thought you left to do damage control,” I explained, meeting his eyes.

  “Oh, you mean to clean up your mess?”

  “Roman—”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened last night at your safe house, or are we just going to pretend it didn’t look like an all-out war broke out.”

  “Roman, I handled it. Stop worrying about me, you know I hate it,” I chastised, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup.

  “I’ve been your righthand man for the last eight years. I’ve protected you with my life and I will continue to do so but don’t shut me out. You walk into a meeting unprotected, against my better judgement, to prove some sort of point—”

  My eyes snapped to his. “I wasn’t proving shit to anyone. I don’t need to. I’ve paid my fucking dues, and anyone who doesn’t think so can kiss my ass. You knew I had to walk into that meeting alone because I didn’t have a choice. Those were the rules. You’re always telling me to play by them, and now you’re throwing contradictions in my face. What the fu—”

  “Where in the rules did it say to shoot Vinny in the fucking face and start a war with men you’d only just met?!”

  “My. Rules! The only ones that matter!” I turned to leave him there, but he gripped my wrist. Bringing me back around to face him.

  “You look like shit for someone who was only in a car chase. There are bruises, bite marks and scratches all over you. I might be old, but I’m not fucking stupid. Your safe house was trashed when I showed up there last night, after you called me. Not to mention you go to a location you know has no security or guards when you should have come here first. Knowing there wouldn’t be anyone over there! Including me! I was waiting for you here! Like we planned! You’re hiding something and if you don’t tell me what it is, I’m going—”

  “It’s Damien,” I gritted out, instantly hating the fact that his name just came out of my mouth.

  He jerked back. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “He did this to you?” he questioned in an eerie tone, nodding to my battle wounds.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I mean, yes, but not in the way you think… we did it to each other.”