El Pecador : El Santo Book 2

by M. Robinson

  Confirming to Amira that I didn’t even have to touch her for her to still feel me everywhere and all at once.

  I continued to dance with the blonde with my hand around her neck and my thumb on her bottom lip. Feeling nothing but her pulse beating with anticipation beneath my fingertips, while Amira’s heated composure burned into my skin from the short distance between us. Nothing could have prepared Amira for the reaction I was intentionally provoking. Making the blonde feel as if she was the only woman for me, knowing damn well there was only one woman that always faithfully had my attention.

  The song was coming to an end, and so was my shameless performance. I slightly dipped the blonde back, using the blatant display as an opportunity to really one-up her. To finally prove to Amira, I knew she was full of shit. Grazing my lips across her cleavage to her neck, and right before I was about to reach her mouth, I peered up through the slits of my eyes and locked blazing stares with the woman who always had my heart.

  If looks could kill, I’d be fucking dead.

  Amira scoffed in disgust, shook her head, and threw her arms down at her sides. Immediately realizing I knew she’d been there all along, catching on to the fact I’d just played her.

  In one quick, sudden movement she abruptly turned, leaving Johnathan there stunned. I didn’t hesitate to excuse myself from the blonde, rushing over to Amira in three long strides. I gripped onto her wrist and roughly yanked her back toward me, stopping her momentum and determination she was using to try and get away from me. Causing her to lose her footing and fall against my chest and into my arms as the orchestra clicked over to a soft Tango at the same time.

  The last thing she wanted to do was make a scene, and that’s exactly what would happen if she hauled ass away from me. So, I hooked my arm around her lower back, placing her right hand into my left at our sides and proceeded to dance with her instead.

  “Did you enjoy the show, baby?” I questioned as she pushed off my chest a little too hard into a turn, spinning back into our hold and then we walked two slow steps.

  Quick, quick, slow.

  “Not as much as you did performing it,” she replied with a hard edge to her tone.

  Possessively moving my right hand to the back of her neck, I pulled her down into a fast dip at my side, sensually bringing her back up to face me again. We started to dance effortlessly around the room, repeating the steps slow, slow, quick, quick, slow as if we were the only two people in the space.

  “You can take the girl out of Cuba, but you can’t take Cuba out of the girl. Do you remember, Muñeca? Rosarío…” I paused, saying her name fueled the remorse inside of me. “Anyway.” I shook it off. “That was a long time ago. I’m proud to see you still remember the moves and so would she.”

  “I remember everything, Damien,” she snidely countered with a soft glimmer in her eyes. “I see your taste in women hasn’t changed. Blonde bombshells with low IQ’s, just like you love them.”

  I proudly grinned, eyeing her up and down with a predatory regard. With my hand still gripping the back of her neck we strolled the dance floor, two more slow steps.

  Quick, quick, slow.

  Once again, I dipped her. Crudely jerking her back up with enough force to lock her body in place where I wanted it.

  Her lips close to my mouth.

  Her perfect tits pressed on my chest.

  Her wet pussy against my hard cock.

  I rasped, my mouth almost touching hers. “Jealousy looks fucking amazing on you.” Thrusting my dick into her heat before I got the last word out.

  She narrowed her eyes at me, mainly pissed that I spoke the truth. We aggressively walked in a circle, stepping back into our closed embrace.

  “There you go thinking with your dick again,” she snapped, playing it off like I wasn’t on to her.

  Breathing out a chuckle, I roughly spun her so her back was snug against my chest. Slowly sliding my hands down to her hips, making sure I took my sweet ass time. Wanting her to feel every inch of my fingers along the sides of her breasts, her ribs, the curve of her waist. Igniting conflicting emotions she didn’t want to deal with, feelings she failed to bury from years ago.

  “Should I keep going?” I whispered huskily, grazing my nose and lips along the slope of her soft, silky neck until I reached the tender spot right beneath her ear and jawline. “Do I need to finger fuck you from behind or do we need to finish this with my cock deep inside of you to finally put an end to your bullshit lies?”

  As soon as she felt my fingers descending down her hips, she slapped her hands over mine, shoving her ass into my cock with her right leg pointed out to the side. The violins from the orchestra hit a high point in the ballad and she seductively slid to the floor, her leg stretched out beside her. In the same sinful movement, she rotated her hips up my body. Never stopping her persistent sway of grinding her ass against my body.

  “The only bullshit lies I keep hearing are the same ones coming out of your mouth,” she argued, turning her face into mine.

  I growled, hastily shifting her to face me. Wrapping her left arm around my neck, I gripped onto her right thigh, hard. Causing her to whimper before angling it up to the side of my body. We stared deep into each other’s eyes and the intensity of the music took over, only adding to the craze of our diminishing self-control.

  “You’re the cause of everything wrong in my life,” she viciously spewed, cocking her head to the side.

  I leaned forward, close to her lips. “Well, Muñeca, you’re the only cause of anything right in mine.” With that, I stepped back, taking her along with me.

  Her body lounging into mine as I dragged her petite frame across the floor. Her left leg straight out behind her. The second I stopped, I held her close to my chest to steady her movement. Our chests rising and falling as one. The room dark like we were the only ones there sinfully dancing like old times. When all of a sudden, she tried to yank her leg away from my grasp. Failing as I dipped her, grasping both her arms above her head, leaning her back, completely at my mercy. Her eyes shifted to my mouth, licking her lips. Fucking baiting me to kiss her.

  “I can still taste you in my mouth,” I groaned, following the movement of her tongue.

  The consuming look in her eyes was filled with so much intensity I could barely take it.

  “Muñeca, I lov—”

  Amira shook her head, causing her expression to harden right before my eyes. Pushing me upright to stand. “I’m not doing this with you again,” she stated, turned and left.

  Leaving me there, only adding more unresolved issues to the unfinished bullshit between us.

  EIGHTEEN

  DAMIEN

  “Jesus Christ, Rosarío, what the fuck are you teaching her?” I exclaimed, stepping out onto the back porch. Catching them both off guard.

  I’d just gotten back from Pinar del Río, where I was dealing with Emilio’s enemies for almost a week, and I missed my girls.

  “Damien!” Amira excitedly beamed, swaying her hips to the melody of “Quimbara” by Celia Cruz, one of Rosarío’s favorite songs, blaring through the speakers. “Mama Rosa and I are dancing,” she giggled. “She’s been showing me how to Salsa and Merengue, and she’s going to teach me how to Tango next.”

  Rosarío smiled, obviously pleased with herself as Amira provocatively swayed her hips to the music without missing a beat. Her hands held her white skirt up at her sides, slightly lifting it as she danced. The fabric flowing with each movement, each sway of her hips.

  “Do you see her—”

  “More now than ever. She’s fourteen not—”

  “I’m almost fifteen!” Amira chimed in, slowly gyrating around in a circle. Her hands still firmly on her hips.

  “Are you trying to fucking kill me?” I questioned, peering over at Rosarío.

  “Damien, she’s not a little girl anymore. Look at her, she’s a gorgeous young lady, and what Cuban woman doesn’t know how to dance. It’s in our blood. My mother would roll around
in her grave if I didn’t keep her legacy alive. She was the best dancer in all of Havana, performing at the casinos. The Tango was her favorite routine to perform.” She looked over at Amira who was happily twirling, sashaying in a back-and-forth motion. Naturally strutting her skills. “Besides, any husband of hers—”

  “Husband? The fuck? Now, she’s getting married?”

  Amira laughed, throwing her head back. “I’m going to get married one day, Damien. I need—”

  “The hell you are.” I shook my head, blown away. “I’m gone for a week and I come back to this bullshit. Her dancing and talking about getting married. Rosarío stop teaching her this shit, she needs to focus on school. Not dancing and men I’d never let near her.”

  “Well, Enrique, has been coming over here to dance with me for weeks, and he will be here any minute,” Amira sassed. “So, don’t scare him off. He’s my friend and I like him.”

  I jerked back. “Who the fuck is Enrique, and how am I just learning about this, Rosarío?”

  She placed her hands up in the air in a surrendering gesture. “He’s the boy from a few streets over, it’s nothing. He stepped in as her dance partner because as you know, you can’t learn to dance without a partner.”

  “That’s it. She’s not leaving the house anymore,” I ordered, pointing to Amira.

  She laughed again, “Damien, you can’t lock me away.”

  “Try me, Muñeca. See what else I’m capable of,” I warned, walking back into the house to cool down.

  Watching her dance from afar for a few more minutes before I walked into the living room. Just in time to see the boy who was about to fucking die, walking up to the door, through the window of Amira’s reading nook. Not allowing him to knock, I abruptly opened the door, coming face to face with the little shit.

  “Hey, is—”

  “No, so fuck off.” I slammed the door in his face.

  “Damien!” Rosarío chastised from behind me, holding a pitcher of water as soon as I stepped back into the yard.

  “Don’t,” I let out with a warning glare.

  She sighed, “Fine, then you’re her new dance partner.”

  Amira strutted her way over to me, moving her body to the rhythm of the salsa song.

  I shook my head no, eyeing her up and down.

  “Oh, come on… don’t you want to dance with me? Enrique’s not here yet and I have a feeling you made him go away. For what reason other than you want to dance with me?”

  “To protect you, like I do with everything,” I simply stated.

  She rolled her eyes. “To protect me from dancing? Nice try.” Lifting her hands in between us, pouting she added, “Please… I promise not to step on your toes.”

  “Muñeca—”

  “Pretty please… for me…”

  I took a deep breath, taking off my military jacket and throwing it on the table. Grabbing her hands, pulling her toward me. Making her laugh in my embrace.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. “I missed you.”

  All of us knew, I could never say no to her.

  I blinked, shaking off the memory of the first time we started dancing together. Quickly realizing I was standing on the beach outside the venue, the orchestra still playing in the distance from inside. It was as if my body led me to the one place I always felt the closest to her. I couldn’t remember the last time I stood on the beach, since I was in Cuba with Amira still by my side. The refuge I sought was nowhere to be found under the full moon dancing off the water. Only darkness surrounded me like the sadness that reflected off my soul.

  I watched the waves crash on the shoreline for I don’t know how long, letting my mind wander to a time when she was mine. Feeling her next to me, showing me the stars in the night sky.

  “That’s Princess Andromeda and that’s her husband, Perseus. Do you see how they unite in the middle? You can’t tell where one star ends and the other begins, kind of like they’re holding hands.”

  I stared at those exact stars, they were easy to find. I’d spent over a decade pinpointing Perseus and Princess Andromeda from all over the world. They’d become as much a part of my persecuting memories as she had.

  “After consulting an oracle, the King and Queen chained Princess Andromeda to a rock, in order to be sacrificed to the monster. But the hero, Perseus, was nearby and heard of the imminent death of Andromeda. He came to her rescue and saved her from the monster. She returned to Greece and they got married, having nine kids. After Princess Andromeda died, the Goddess of love, Athena, placed her in the sky as a constellation, nearby her beloved husband, Perseus. They were two soul mates who were destined to be together forever, so she made them constellations so they would be.”

  The overwhelming sentiments and emotions of what the ocean and the nightfall meant to me were almost too heavy a burden to endure. I shook off the unrelenting feelings evoking from deep within my core, needing to get back to the fundraiser, and just as I was about to turn around, I saw a petite, shadowy figure in the distance. Stopping me dead in my tracks.

  It was Amira.

  Standing with her feet in the water like she needed to feel our eternal love too. The bottom of her gown getting soaked from the waves. There was something about the way she just stood there, looking out at the ocean with her hair blowing in the light breeze, she looked like a painting, a dream I never wanted to wake up from. The sight of her literally took my breath away.

  There was no beauty in this world like Amira’s.

  My feet moved on their own accord, walking toward her, closing the distance, emotionally and physically between us. I couldn’t take my eyes off the vision in front of me. It took everything in my being not to run to her and hold her in my arms. I couldn't control the internal battle that surfaced in the forefront of my mind, it was a whirlwind of sensations.

  From my mind to my heart to every goddamn bone in my body.

  She suddenly looked down at the ground when I was a few feet behind her as if she felt my looming presence. Her breathing hitched, but she didn’t turn around.

  She didn’t move.

  It seemed like she was barely even breathing.

  “You have no idea what it was like waking up that morning, searching for you the moment my eyes opened. Thinking it was the start of a new day, a new life…” she paused, clearing her throat and gazing out in front of her again. She may have been physically standing there, but her mind was back in that bed.

  Where I left her behind.

  “A life where we could finally be together. Where you would come home to me every night, kiss me and tell me you love me. Where we would have a future together. One that would include getting married, having babies…” she hesitated, breathing in a deep and sturdy breath. Contemplating her next words, debating if she should say what I needed to hear. She protectively wrapped her arms around her stomach in a comforting gesture, trying to hold in the emotions that threatened to spill. As she prepared herself to reveal more of her truths.

  She knew I noticed. There was no way I couldn’t have felt the effect I always had on her. I closed my eyes, waiting for the unknown and the inevitable to be spoken. Feeling her hesitancy to expose her truths, seared into my skin more and more with each second that passed. We weren’t even touching, and I could still feel her all over.

  Her words.

  Her hurt.

  Her love.

  Causing shivers to course through the depths of my core, practically bringing me to my fucking knees with her words, comforting and tormenting me in ways I never expected.

  “You know that’s what I wanted, right? What I’ve always wanted since I was a little girl. To marry you, have your babies, to have a family and grow old… with you.”

  I wanted nothing more than to be that man for her back then, and knowing it wasn’t possible didn't stop my desire to try to be that man for her now. “Muñeca, I can give you the life we were meant to have, the one you dreamed of,” I wholeheartedly replied, hangin
g on by a very thin fucking thread.

  “I was there when you married Evita, Damien. Did you know that? Could you feel my presence? Hiding in the back of the Cathedral of San Cristóbal.”

  I stumbled back, the wind knocked out of my lungs. Never expecting her to confess that to me. “Jesus Christ, Amira, you know if I would have known that, I would have never been able to—”

  “You wouldn’t have been able to what? Marry her? There you go with your lies again, Damien. I remember silently praying as she walked down the aisle for you not to marry her. There I was hiding in a church, praying to God for you to not marry her,” she repeated, stressing the last four words. Her body trembled, her strong, hardened composure weakening with each confession that escaped from her mouth.

  My willpower matched hers. “I didn’t know, baby. Please tell me you at least believe that. I couldn’t hurt you in that way. Never fucking like that.”

  “But you did…” She shook her head, remembering the day as if it were yesterday, or even worse, still feeling as if she was hiding there, witnessing it all over again. “I watched you say your vows to a woman who wasn’t me. You married her and broke my fucking heart in more ways than I thought you already had.”

  I instinctively stepped toward her, longing to hold her in my arms. It physically pained me to be standing there with her, hearing her tell me everything I thought I wanted to know. Nothing could have prepared me for these truths.

  Not even her.

  “Please don’t,” she urged, halting me. Feeling my governing presence coming for her, she finally turned around and faced me.

  “Muñeca, please just let me hold you.”

  “I’m not telling you this looking for your comfort, Damien. I’m doing it because I’m praying, once again, I’m fucking praying that you will leave me alone. Get some closure so you can move on with your life because I’ve already moved on with mine. I can’t do this with you again. I won’t. That night meant everything to me. I gave you what had always belonged to you, and I’m not talking about my virginity… I’m talking about my heart. I forgave you and believed it when you said you loved me.”