Disclaim (Deliver #3)

by Pam Godwin

  Her head fell back on her shoulders as she gasped and whimpered. He worked over her body, striking without pause and watching for swelling and broken skin. But more than that, he studied her eyes, thrilling in the dilation of her pupils beneath her glazed expression of lust.

  Good God, she had a high-tolerance for pain. As hard as he was hitting her, she didn’t scream or shift her feet. Not even when he reached his groove, his arm swinging with speed and agility, muscles loose, and attention focused.

  He walked a circuit around her, slamming the leather against her legs and ass, listening to the tempo of her breaths, and devouring the red blooms across her skin. His heart pounded like it had the first time he’d kissed her fifteen years ago. It was finally alive and beating, no longer lost. It had come back, here, to her in their lemon grove.

  Inflicting pain wasn’t what made him hard. It was one-hundred-percent about the power in trust. She was giving him this, letting him hurt her while trusting that he wouldn’t destroy her.

  He returned to her front and struck her tits, alternating between them. She keened, her eyes wide and staring upward as tremors rippled up her legs. He knew she’d hit that altered state of consciousness, where time distorted and pain ebbed. She looked like she was floating, peaceful, high as a fucking kite.

  Hands slick with sweat, he moved the strap lower, thwacking lightly over her stomach. When he reached her pussy, he landed a vicious blow against her clit.

  “No!” She snapped to awareness, screaming and writhing, knees buckling. “I can’t…not there—”

  He hit her again and again, pummeling the sensitive nerves, testing her.

  “You…sona…fuck…ye…pleee…” Tears skated down her cheeks as she gulped for air, glaring at him and bellowing between sobs.

  She’d reached her breaking point, and broken was a place he never wanted to take her.

  He tossed the belt.

  “Fuck you, Matias.” Her voice didn’t hold a trace of heat as she slumped. Then she gave him a shaky smile. “That wasn’t too bad.”

  Goddamn, he loved this woman. He released the button and zipper on his jeans, shoving them down as he closed the distance.

  With shaking hands, he gripped her hair and claimed her mouth, his tongue probing, caressing, and taking. She tasted like citrus and desire, her lips soft and yielding and his. She kissed him with the same urgency, her breaths warm and erratic as she hooked a leg around the back of his.

  His balls tightened, and his cock throbbed to the point of pain. He gripped himself, aching to fuck her, brutally, possessively, and if he waited much longer, he was going to come before the first fucking thrust.

  With his jeans hanging beneath his ass and a fist around his shaft, he lined himself up and rammed hard, missing completely in his pressing need to be inside her.

  “Need help?” She laughed and bit his jaw. “I can—”

  He smacked her hard on the ass, and she choked on another laugh. Christ, she made him crazy. He kissed her again, and this time, with a bruising grip on her hip, he slammed inside of her, buried to the hilt.

  “Fuuck!” Pleasure shot through his cock, and his forehead dropped to her shoulder.

  “Oh, God.” She groaned and wrapped her other leg around him, giving him all of her weight and the full use of her body.

  Adjusting his stance, hands on her waist, he fucked her with every inch of his soul. She tightened her fingers around the branch and threw her head back, crying out with each unapologetic drive of his hips.

  “Look at me.” He couldn’t get close enough, deep enough, couldn’t taste enough of her, or wrench enough cries from her seductive lips.

  She gave him her eyes, and he held her there, sliding her up and down his length and jacking himself off in her tight sheath. She felt so fucking good he couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t catch his breath.

  Without breaking eye contact, they moved together as one, the rock and kick of her hips matching the force of his. They were wild and electric, a violent landslide of grunts, slippery skin, and thundering hearts.

  His lungs caught fire, and his pulse hammered as fast as his thrusts, everything inside him simmering, building, pressurizing. The whole damn world felt like it was going to explode, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop. He was so fucking lost in her he didn’t want to find his way back.

  They were both panting so hard they couldn’t keep their mouths connected, but he tried, chasing her lips, licking and sucking and swallowing her breaths as he fucked her.

  Her tits bounced with the slam of his hips. Her exhales came in short bursts. Then she was coming, screaming, her eyes wide and fixed on him as if blindsided by the sensations. She shuddered and twitched through it, and when she finally settled against him, he pulled back, slipping his cock free and teasing the tip around her opening. She groaned.

  “Again?” He bit her nipple, her collarbone, her lips, then sank back inside her. “Yeah, you can do that again.”

  “I think…maybe… Yes, please.” She smirked, eyes half-mast.

  Reaching down to where his jeans had fallen around his knees, he removed the switchblade from the pocket and cut her hands free.

  Her fingers flew to his hair, and her mouth attacked his, wet and hot, eating at his lips and licking his tongue.

  He flung the blade near his boots, kicked off the jeans, and rolled her to the ground beneath him. With the solid support against her back, he let himself go, fucking her ruthlessly, powerfully.

  Holding his gaze, she moved her body in a sensual dance with his. Her hands glided across his back, their chests heaving together, and legs entwined. Shock waves descended down his spine, gathering at the base of his cock. He tangled his fingers in her hair, his hips caught in a desperate tempo. He wanted to last longer, but knew he couldn’t.

  There would always be later, and tomorrow, and forever.

  “I’m going to come, baby.” Spasms gathered behind his balls. “You’re coming with me.”

  Her eyes flared with concentration. “Kiss me.”

  And he did, vigorously, passionately, while fighting the agonizing impulse to release. She flexed and strained beneath him and released a strangled shout against his lips. He stared into her eyes, captivated by her orgasmic bliss, and followed her over.

  He came violently, pounding her into the ground, his body convulsing with a series of contractions that pumped deep inside him, ejaculating, filling her up, and the pleasure… Fuck, the pleasure was unimaginable as he groaned and thrust and stretched it out as long as he could.

  As their breathing evened out and their bodies went limp, a fog of numbness tingled through him. But he kept his hips moving in slow, satisfied strokes, his gaze centered on his favorite brown eyes.

  “That was pretty good.” She pursed her lips.

  He continued to lazily thrust, didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to leave the drenched clasp of her pussy. “As sloppy as your cunt feels, I think it was better than pretty good.”

  Her expression softened, and she ran her hands across his jaw and into his hair. “It was perfect, Matias.”

  Rolling them to their sides, he kissed her tenderly, achingly, with every ounce of love he felt for her. Her arms twined around his neck, and his cock softened inside her, but she didn’t seem to want him to pull out, so he held her closer, kissing her as the sky darkened with the approach of dusk.

  They lay there for an eternity, nude, in a bed of grass, surrounded by lemon trees, and he knew. He’d finally succeeded in his pursuit for happiness. Then again, he’d always known that this was how it should be.

  She watched him as he watched her, seemingly just as content, but something lurked in the back of her eyes.

  He spread a lock of her hair in the grass, snaking it around like a black river. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Your spy problem.”

  He didn’t expect that, and his heart lurched excitedly. “What about it?”

  “Well, you haven’t caught this
person.”

  He arched a brow. “Are you questioning my competence?”

  “Yep.”

  “All right.” His chest filled with pride. “I’m listening.”

  She leaned up on an elbow, and the twin peaks of her pink nipples drew his attention.

  “Up here, Matias.”

  He flicked his eyes to hers and found a glint of amusement there.

  “You’ve been monitoring every outgoing transaction and message?” She cocked her head. “Even phone calls?”

  “Everything. Nothing is getting leaked or discussed. We’re on virtual shutdown. We’ve flown in all of our technical geniuses and highest-ranking members to the property and haven’t let anyone leave. We have every able and trusted person hunting for this person.”

  She nodded, her expression contemplative. “Have you considered the possibility that Gerardo might’ve been lying?”

  “The man was in a world of pain when he confessed.” His heart skipped. “He lasted through hours of slicing and severing and—”

  “He was loyal to this other group then. Loyal enough to endure that kind of torture.” She glanced away, scrunched up her nose in concentration, and looked back at him. “What if he was trying to distract you from something? What if he wanted you to congregate your cartel?”

  Dread sank his stomach, and his blood pressure skyrocketed. “Fuck. No, that’s… Shit, we’ve focused all our efforts here, searching internally. And we’re all together, pulled all of our resources to one place.”

  “The enemy is out there, doing hell knows what, while your attention is centered on yourselves.” She sat up and stared over the trees. “If someone were to…I don’t know, drop a bomb on this place, every important member would be blown to bloody pieces. Would the cartel die with them?”

  Yes, it absolutely would.

  A WEEK LATER, Camila stretched on a lounge chair on the balcony outside of Matias’ private living room, listening intently to the drone of voices around her. Not really hearing the words as much as evaluating inflections, pitch, and volume of one voice in particular.

  Twilight blushed the sky and cast a radiant glow across Matias’ stern expression. Sitting at the wrought iron table cluttered with bottles of beer and aguardiente, he strategized and argued with the men in the inner circle.

  His timbre was calm and even, but the Texan drawl he tried so hard to hide slipped through, barely there, pulling on some of his consonants. Was he worried? Scared?

  He hadn’t let her out of his sight in over a week. Whenever he left his suite, he took her with him, to his meetings, to walk the perimeter of the property, to dinner on the veranda. Given the current topic of conversation, she doubted he would be leaving her side any time soon.

  Other than the potential danger that threatened his life—as well as hers—she didn’t want to care if the cartel perished or survived. She needed to focus on the horrors Matias kept imprisoned in the west wing. She’d counted at least fourteen slaves since she’d arrived, and who knew how many others weren’t being paraded through the halls like dogs on leashes.

  A slaughtered cartel meant less slave traders in the world. She tried to feel enthusiastic about that, but instead, it sank a heavy feeling in her stomach. Did she actually like these guys?

  Other than her first day here, the inner circle hadn’t treated her like a slave, never even raised a brow when she voiced her opinions or asked questions in the privacy of Matias’ suite. Of course, Matias had told her multiple times that his four closest men knew who she was and why she was here.

  But she couldn’t ignore their depravity. The evidence was etched into the horrified faces of the slaves they kept.

  Except every time she looked at Matias, she didn’t see a man who wanted to profit from women’s suffering. She saw a man who adored her so deeply he would sacrifice everything for her.

  It didn’t make sense that he loved her while doing the one thing that hurt her the most. But rather than fight him, she watched him, tried to understand his motivations and trust that there was something he wasn’t telling her, something important.

  If I hit you too hard or overstep your limits without explanation, you need to trust that I’m doing it for you.

  Was there another message beneath his words? Something below the threshold of her understanding? Because dammit, his involvement in human trafficking did overstep her limits, and how the fuck could he possibly be doing that for her?

  She wanted to trust him, which was huge and terrifying and really goddamn hard on her heart. It shattered every night at dinner, every time she saw a sewn mouth, a shackled hand, or a fearful set of eyes. She was reaching her limits on trust.

  “What about the north wall?” Matias leaned back in the chair, his hand resting on his thigh. “Have we added more cameras?”

  Chispa jumped in with a technical report, and Matias asked more security questions, his thumb moving restlessly, sliding over the pads of the fingers on the same hand, back and forth, again and again.

  There was so much power in those fingers. They could be cruel, fucking brutal in his passion, but they could also be tender, gentle on her skin in his affection. Whether he was whipping her, caressing her, or fingering her into mindless bliss, those fingers inspired strength and dominance, left her craving more, wanting more of him, needing him to be the man she trusted him to be.

  He flicked his eyes to her, to his lap, and back to her face. Her heart raced, her entire body pulling toward him as her feet slid to the floor. She stood, straightened her shorts, and crossed the balcony.

  Nico, Chispa, and Picar continued the conversation, but all eyes were on her as she lowered onto Matias’ lap. Frizz’s watchful gaze was the hardest to meet, but she forced herself to hold his stare and not let him intimidate her. Of all the men in the inner circle, his eyes were softest, a strangely-innocent shade of blue. She couldn’t help but morbidly wonder about the mystery he kept trapped behind those threaded lips.

  A shiver raced through her, and she tried not to wriggle on the hard bulge pressing against the zipper of Matias’ jeans.

  For the next hour, she sat sideways on his lap, resting against his chest with her head on his shoulder. She indulged in the vibration of his voice as he rumbled on about security, debating the idea of leaving the property and going into hiding.

  If they fled the compound, she wouldn’t use it as an opportunity to escape. Maybe she was determined to the point of self-destruction, but she needed to see Matias’ slave trade through to the end.

  But it wasn’t just that. The mere thought of being separated from him twisted her insides into panicky knots. That fear alone trumped the accumulation of every fear she’d ever felt. He was the only person who had ever made her lungs stretch, heart sing, and mind dance. No way in hell was she giving him up.

  He slid his knuckles up and down her inner thighs as he talked to his men. One might’ve assumed it was mindless fidgeting, but the swollen proof of his awareness jerked persistently against her hip.

  She sighed. If there was one thing she’d learned in her three weeks here, it was that she loved his cock. She loved the thick girth, the veins that ran along the underside, and the little freckle just beneath the crown. Her pussy clenched as she replayed the way he’d woken her this morning—his dick in her mouth, his musky scent in her nose, and his salty come in her throat.

  She’d never considered herself a slut, but after he’d framed the term with admiration, she’d spent the better part of the past week learning how to be more honest with herself about who she was and what she wanted. While his beautiful cock consumed her thoughts, she’d become more receptive to him as a whole, and the biggest piece of that was his dominance.

  Sitting on his lap like this filled her with belonging. The strength and power in his body coupled with the tenderness of his touch and the warm scent of his masculinity felt like home and permanence, instilling in her a sense of security. All that searching with other men had been such a wasted effort
. No wonder losing Matias had hurt her so much. He was where she should’ve always been.

  Nico rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. “All I’m saying is we need to be—” A phone chirped on the table, and he grabbed it, glanced at the screen. A second later, he straightened, his eyes lifting and landing on Matias.

  Matias stiffened against her, prompting the same reaction in her muscles.

  “They found more.” Nico’s usual scowl vanished amid the starkness of his unblinking eyes.

  “Found what?” She sat up and turned to look at Matias.

  His hand went to her face, cupping her jaw, but his focus remained on Nico. “Where?”

  “Three hours north by helicopter. Permítame un momento.” Nico stood, lifting the phone to his ear as he strode to the far end of the railing.

  She touched the hand on her cheek. “Matias? What’s going on?”

  His lips formed a pale line, his hazel eyes sharp as he stared at Nico’s back and lowered their hands. She searched the other faces at the table—Frizz, Chispa, Picar—and found the same expressions, all of them watching Nico, rigid in their chairs as if bracing to leap up.

  “Does this have to do with Gerardo’s betrayal?” Her breaths quickened. “Did you find spies?”

  Matias gave her a stiff shake of his head, and Nico ended the call.

  With a strong, urgent gait, Nico returned to the table, eyes on his capo. “We can make it there without a refuel. Burd will drive us the rest of the way.”

  “And you trust Burd?” Matias shifted to the edge of the chair.

  “We’ve used him a dozen times. He’s a good falcon. But I recommend waiting a while. Maybe next week—”

  Matias slammed a fist on the table, stopping her heart and knocking over several beer bottles. “We’re not fucking waiting.” He launched from the chair, taking her with him and catching her around the waist to support her stumbling steps. “Set up the appointment for tonight. Get the helicopter ready. We’re leaving immediately.”