by Aaron, Celia
I kissed her, putting everything I had into that one reminder of our bond.
“David!” Peter’s voice rose.
Releasing her was hard. Watching her walk away was harder. And when she disappeared into her room across the hall? I wanted to rip the whole house down just to get to her.
Peter closed the door quietly as voices echoed up from the foyer. “You’re playing a dangerous game, big brother.”
“It’s not a game. She’s mine.”
He rubbed his eyes. “For all you changed in prison, you stayed the same.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Still stubborn to a fucking fault.” He leaned against the door, as if worried I’d try to bust through it to get at Blanco. “And still stuck on that girl. It’s like the moment you saw her, you couldn’t look anywhere else. And here we are. Fucked.”
I grinned at him.
His eyes widened, bugging a little. “Why are you smiling?”
“Everything will be all right. I’ll go to Blanco’s house and protect Angel. You’ll stay here and run interference for me.” I wasn’t letting her get away. Peter was right. The moment I saw her, I knew.
He glared at me, then turned to the door. “God, I need a fucking drink.”
20
Angel
Jorge knocked. Actually knocked. And this was an everyday occurrence. For the past week, whenever he came by to either update me about the wedding plans or to make sure I hadn’t climbed out the window, he would knock before busting into my room. It seemed like something so little, but it was a total one-eighty from the way I’d lived my life under his thumb for the past five years. I had zero doubts about why—David kept a close eye on me.
Hector hadn’t been too pleased with the way David had left Jorge in the dust after the shoot-out at the wedding salon. But Serge insisted that David return with me as my protection. Not wanting to rock the boat, Hector had obliged, but it created a situation where David was always watching me, and Jorge was always watching David.
We’d been back at the Blanco mansion for a week, and I’d had only a few fleeting moments alone with David. But when I wasn’t in his presence, I thought about him. He obliterated everything else. The thought of his hands on me again, the way his sinful mouth curved into a wicked smile, the way he towered over me—I wanted him so badly that I’d taken to pleasuring myself every night. The nearness of him, but the inability to even touch him, was a torture all on its own.
“We’re having dinner guests tonight, including Lorenzo.” Jorge dropped a garment bag on my bed. “Your daddy already picked your outfit to ensure you don’t embarrass him.”
I laid down my Kindle. “So I don’t embarrass him?” I glared at the garment bag, already aware it must contain some embarrassing girly bullshit.
He cocked his head at me. “You’re different.”
I refused to break eye contact. “What do you mean?”
He walked around the bed, his gaze hawk-like as he surveyed me. “I mean ever since that day at the wedding dress place, you’ve been acting different. More high and fucking mighty.” His tone darkened the closer he got to me.
I pressed my back into the pillows and wished I was wearing more than a t-shirt, no bra, and pajama shorts. “Nothing’s changed.”
“No?” He stopped beside me, his glare deepening. “Nothing happened at the Genoa house during the hours I wasn’t there to guard your virgin cunt?”
Fire flowed into my cheeks. “Get out of my room.”
He didn’t move.
I didn’t breathe.
Finally, he glanced toward the door. “I know what you’re thinking—that your dumbass protector will save you. But he’s out checking the grounds ahead of the party.” His burning gaze returned to me. “He can’t save you from me. Not now. Not ever. If I hear even so much as a whisper that another man has even fingered that pussy, I’m going to take it all before Lorenzo gets the chance.”
“I said get—”
He leaned over and fisted my shirt, yanking me toward him. “And if you tell anyone, I’ll be back for more as many times as I want while you’re still in this house. Your mouth, your cunt, your tight ass. I’ll ruin you before your wedding day.”
I dug my nails into his arm. “Blanco—”
“Won’t give a shit if you’re already ruined.”
In a moment of unexpected rage, I swung my fist at his face. Contact. Pain exploded along my curled fingers, and he let go of my shirt.
“The fuck?” He raised one hand to his eye. “The fuck, bitch?”
“Keep your hands off me.” I waited for him to come at me, to make it hurt, but he never did. It was as if he was too stunned that I fought back.
“This isn’t over.” He dropped his hand, but his left eye was watering as he backed away. “Get dressed. Party starts in an hour.” He slammed the door behind him.
I crumpled into a ball. What had I done? This wouldn’t end well, but I couldn’t deny the surge of satisfaction I felt when he’d backed up and stared at me like I was someone else. Like I was the woman that David described—the survivor.
Consequences would come, but at this moment, I forced myself to sit up and straightened my back. Maybe the old me could come back, could rise from the dead. I hoped so. Maybe eventually I’d believe it.
* * *
Walking into the dining room was a particular minefield for me. Hector always wanted me to make a late entrance so everyone could get an eyeful of whatever garish outfit he’d chosen for me to wear. Tonight was no exception.
I’d hoped David would be waiting for me when I opened my bedroom door, but he wasn’t there. Whatever threat still hung over my head, he was wary of it, always prowling around the grounds or through the house. He kept his demeanor taciturn, never casting me a glance for too long when we were in the same room. I wasn’t as stoic and watched him more than I should have. Maybe that’s why Jorge had threatened me—he saw what I wasn’t trying hard enough to hide.
But I would change that.
With a deep breath, I walked into the dining room. The table was filled with men, some of them stopping mid-chew to watch me as I walked to my seat at Hector’s left hand. My eyes weren’t on them. Instead, I tried not to stare at the gorgeous killer stationed in the back corner of the room, his suit struggling to cover his broad chest, and his icy eyes focused on me.
I wore a baby-pink dress that barely covered my ass. The top had a lace-up bodice with a low-cut neckline. A white choker wrapped around my neck, and my hair was done in one high ponytail tied with a matching pink ribbon. I looked utterly ridiculous, but Hector’s face lit up when I took the seat at his side.
“My baby girl seems to be in high spirits tonight. Looking forward to your wedding, I suppose?”
Lorenzo sat across from me, his eyes on my chest. “I know I am.” He grinned.
The rest of the table gawked at me, but eventually began eating and chatting again.
I recognized the man to my left as Serge Genoa, and the man next to him was one of his top guys. The rest I was either vaguely acquainted with or had never seen before. Though he was behind me, I could feel David’s gaze on me, and goosebumps rose along my back.
“Have there been any more threats from the Irish?” Serge took a drink of his red wine.
“None. All quiet.” Hector gestured for me to eat. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t planning something. We’ve got extra security for the wedding, and of course, David has been an excellent addition to Angelica’s usual security detail.”
“He’s a definite advantage.” Serge smiled to himself and picked up his silverware as I buttered a piece of bread. “I’m eager to have him back once this deal is done.”
“You could have him now,” Jorge piped up from farther down the table. He had a purple bruise beneath his left eye, and my right fingers ached at the memory of making contact. “We have everything under control.”
Serge lifted any eyebrow at Hector, who sc
owled at his second-in-command.
“Is that right, Hector? You no longer desire my assistance?” Serge’s tone was light on top, but steel underneath.
The table quieted again, several pairs of eyes turning to Hector. For a moment, I entertained the utter joy I’d feel if Jorge had just spoken his last words.
Hector set his fork down, his glare remaining fixed on Jorge. “Of course I do.”
“Seems as though there’s some confusion.” Serge took another drink of wine.
“There is none,” Hector said decisively.
Jorge dropped his gaze to his plate, a dog with its tail between its legs. He’d live. Damn it all.
“Good.” Serge raised his glass. “In that case, I’d like to toast to the new couple. Lorenzo and Angelica.”
The rest of the table seemed to finally relax and grab their own glasses to join in the toast. The men fell back into quiet conversations as Serge focused on the tenderloin the server placed on his plate.
“And how are you this evening, baby girl?” Hector dabbed the sides of his mouth with his napkin and pushed his chair back.
My stomach sank. I knew what he wanted. I’d never enjoyed the tawdry show he made me put on, but now with David in the room, everything inside me rebelled. It didn’t change the fact that I had to obey my master. He’d already been bitten tonight by his bitch Jorge. I couldn’t test him, not after he’d just lost face.
I rose and cut around the corner of the table, then perched on his lap.
He slid one hand onto my thigh and wrapped his other around my waist. “How’s my little girl?”
On the inside, I recoiled. On the outside, I kept my eyes down. “I’m fine.”
He cleared his throat expectantly.
I would have been embarrassed even if David weren’t standing a few feet away. But knowing he was there made the shame all-consuming. Still, I had to play along. “I’m fine, Daddy.”
A few chuckles rose from down the table.
“Glad to hear it. But—” He pulled me closer. “Jorge told me you had a fit of pique a little earlier. That you hit him when he told you I wanted you to wear this outfit at dinner.”
Indignation boiled inside me. “That’s not what—”
“Shh.” Hector squeezed my leg. “I know you won’t admit it, but I’ve already seen the evidence on his face. Is it the stress of the wedding? Of what happened at the engagement party? What has set my little doll on this destructive path?” He toyed with the ribbon along the front of my dress. “I’d hate to think you were unhappy here.”
“I’m happy, Daddy.” I tried to make the words bright, but they came out strained.
He tsked and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I don’t think that’s true. Acting out means something is wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Daddy.”
“Acting out also comes with consequences.” His finger grazed along my cheek as my heartbeat surged, fear coating my mouth in a metallic tang. No, it wasn’t fear. Something else welled up inside, something that had been dormant for far too long. It was fucking rage.
I had to escape this, to save myself. Maybe Jorge was right. Maybe I was different, because suddenly I didn’t feel like playing along anymore. I turned my head far enough to catch David’s gaze. He was tense, every muscle on high alert. I shook my head only a millimeter. If he reacted, he’d be killed. Problem was, if Hector enacted any “consequences” on me, I was certain David would make a mistake.
“What should I do with such a naughty girl?” Hector stroked my back. “I think it’s time I put you over my knee.” With a surge, he turned me over in his lap.
I reached out toward the table to try and keep my balance.
“Naughty girls get spankings.” He yanked up my skirt.
More chuckles rose, and someone yelled, “Give it to her good, Blanco!”
I didn’t give anyone else a chance to chime in, because Hector’s scream as I stabbed the fork into his leg eclipsed any other sound.
21
David
I gripped my gun, my hand almost out of my suit coat. Killing Blanco would be a pleasure. He wasn’t going to strike Angel. Not while I was here. No fucking way. I was about to pop him—the Genoas be damned—but then Blanco screamed like a little bitch, and Angel freed herself from his lap.
She backed up until she hit the wall next to me while Blanco reached for the—holy shit.
I stared as he wrestled with the metal lodged in his leg. “Did you stab him with a fork?”
“Uh huh.” She yanked her skirt down.
If she hadn’t already turned me on by simply existing, this little show of violence would have been the finest of aphrodisiacs. This was the woman I knew, the one I wanted, the one I’d happily kill for.
Blanco bellowed, and Serge didn’t bother to hide his laugh. Jorge shot up from his chair and rushed over to his master. Once they pulled the fork out, Jorge turned his eyes on Angel. Not on my fucking watch.
“Go along,” I growled under my breath. Louder, I said, “I think you’ve had enough.” I grabbed her arm in a rough grip. “You’re going to your room!”
“Hey!” She swatted at my hand, but I could feel the playfulness in it.
Serge kept laughing as I pulled Angel toward the door. I didn’t look back at Blanco or Jorge. What they thought didn’t matter to me. What did matter was that I got Angel alone sooner rather than later. Going a week without touching her had been too much, and now, after she’d just drawn blood like a devious warrior queen, I needed to bury myself inside her.
“Don’t hurt her face. She needs to look good for the wedding,” Lorenzo, the sack of shit, called from behind us.
She tried to hold onto the door frame as I yanked her from the dining room. “Let me go!”
A nice show. But even if she was fighting me with all her strength, I’d be able to subdue her in a second. To demonstrate, I lifted her and threw her over my shoulder, then carried her through the foyer and up the stairs with ease.
She stopped struggling when I reached the top and rested her forehead against my back. “I can’t believe I did that.”
I slid my hand up her thigh and gripped her ass. “You did well.”
She squealed when I smacked her cheek and kicked the door open to her bedroom. Slamming it behind me, I carried her to the bed and threw her down.
“What are you—” She gasped when I reached under her skirt and yanked her panties away, the fabric shredding easily in my hand.
“Show me your tits.” I unbuckled my belt.
Her cheeks reddened, but she obeyed, pulling down the top of her dress and showing me the mounds of pale flesh, the hardening nipples.
I groaned and unzipped my pants. “Now show me the rest.”
She bit her lip, her eyes going a little glassy. “What if they come looking for me?”
“I don’t care if they send the National Goddamn Guard. I’m going to fuck you right here, right now, and no one is going to stop me. Now show me that pretty pussy.”
She eased her legs apart and lifted her frilly skirt. My cock surged when I saw the pink lips and the wetness at her center. I wanted to taste her, to spend hours worshipping every inch of her, but she was right. We didn’t have the time. And my cock was going to fucking explode if I didn’t claim her.
I fisted myself, stroking lightly as I dropped between her legs. “This is mine. All of it. Do you have any idea how close Hector was to having his brains splattered on the wall?”
She shook her head and ran her hands over my chest. “I want to see you.”
“No time.” I pressed my cock head at her entrance.
Her eyes widened as I pushed inside without warning. With a cry, she clutched my shirt, her back arching as I slid all the way home. Her cunt was the perfect vise, squeezing me with exquisite pressure.
“I would have killed him and every other man in that fucking room.” I thrust hard and deep.
She moaned, her legs spreading even
wider. “David.”
“Does that turn you on? That I’d happily kill, torture, or maim any man who thought he could touch you?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
God, just hearing her admit it sent a jolt straight to my cock. I started a punishing rhythm, my body forcing complete submission on hers. With one hand on her hip and the other next to her head, I fucked her as she arched and writhed. Leaning down, I clamped one nipple between my teeth, then sucked her breast into my mouth.
She clawed at my hair, unable to get a good grip on the short strands.
I gave her my violence, my domination. She took it, her body molding to mine. And when I claimed her mouth, she wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, wanting more. Our tongues surged to the same rhythm, hard and fast.
Her legs began to shake, so I reached between us and thumbed her clit.
“David!” She dug her heels into my thighs.
I stroked her faster and pistoned into her.
“I-I’m—” She moaned, and I felt her pussy tighten even more, squeezing my cock as she moaned her release.
I couldn’t hold it, not when my Angel was making such erotic sounds and writhing beneath me. Slamming into her a few more times, I pulled out and gripped myself as I came all over her, coating her with me. When I was finished, I stared down at her. Her beautiful face was relaxed, tits still rosy and nipples hard, and her pussy was a masterpiece. I’d never seen anything hotter than her in that moment, and it made me want to fuck her again and again until we were both spent.
She pressed a palm to her forehead. “God.”
I grinned. “Yes?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Ass.”
Footsteps on the stairs had me yanking her skirt down and tucking my cock back in.
She straightened the top of her dress. “What about your …” She glanced at her thighs.
“No time.” I didn’t say that I wanted my come on her for as long as possible, that I wanted to mark her as mine—but that was all true.
