“Then I’ll save that pleasure for later. Have a drink with me first.”
It’s more a statement than a question. He circles the bed and parts the mosquito net in front of my face to show me the bottle of wine in his hand. Taking my stunned silence as approval, he drops the net and I hear the sounds of liquid being poured into a glass.
“Come,” he orders, taking a key from his jeans pocket and walking over to the sliding glass doors with two full glasses of red wine in his hand, the same glass doors that he’s kept me locked behind like an animal for the past few days.
Holding fast to my plan, I rise from the bed, knotting the white sheet above my breasts, and follow him outside. As soon as I cross the threshold my eyelids flutter shut and I gulp in great mouthfuls of the salty sea air, relishing the silky sensation of the night on my skin. It’s a blessed reprieve from my cage, no matter how temporary, and it’s a grave mistake on his part. I’m feeling stronger suddenly, bolder and more determined than ever to get the hell out of here alive.
He hands me a glass of wine and I accept it without thanks. He can take what he wants from me but he still doesn’t deserve my manners. I don’t bother to tell him I don’t drink, that it’s just a prop for this part he’s making me play.
I move to the edge of the balcony. I’m overlooking a small beach carpeted with the finest, palest sand I’ve ever seen. I shoot a quick glance at the drop on the other side. I reckon I could make it without too many broken bones. My captor follows my gaze and laughs.
“Oh I wouldn’t bother. You’ll soon find your options are limited.”
My cheeks flush, more from anger than embarrassment. For a fleeting moment I consider the unthinkable, of taking my chances in the wilderness instead of spending another second here with him but I’m losing focus. That’s when I see my brother’s face before me. He’s teasing me for being so serious all the time, for being the good girl, for following the rules, for living my life so far from the parameters of reckless that I barely exist.
“We’re celebrating,” I hear him say, holding his glass up to mine. There’s a sharp clink as they collide, more his doing than mine. His eyes are gleaming and there’s a crude, primitive look on his face. I’ve seen it once before with my father after he returned home from hunting. He’s a predator fresh from the kill. Wherever he’s been for the last few days have proved rewarding for him and he wants me to applaud his success.
“Your parents are alive,” he declares, watching my reaction carefully. “Your father’s awake and your mother escaped with minor cuts and bruises. I sent someone to check on them so raise your glass to me, my angel,” he adds with a slight edge to his voice. “It’s time to loosen up a little.”
I stare at him, my mind racing.
“To irritations, big and small,” he continues with a curl of his lips. He drinks deeply, never once taking his eyes off me.
“Let me go to them,” I say quietly. “Let me see for myself.”
A dark expression sweeps across his face. He expected gratitude from me, not more conflict. “You wanted to know if they’re still alive. Isn’t this the information you’ve been pining for? Forget them, mi alma,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They’ll learn to forget you too soon enough.” He drains his drink and pours himself another.
“I will never forget my parents and they will never forget me,” I say angrily, heat coursing like molten larva through my veins. “How dare you try and dismiss them from my life. What gives you the right?”
“The right?” He has the audacity to laugh in my face. “Haven’t you already figured it out, my angel, or do you require another two days of nothing but bread, water and isolation? I dictate the rules in this world.”
“You won’t erase my family from my thoughts. I won’t let you!”
“Who says you have a choice?” he snarls, his mood turning, and he tosses his wine glass away. It smashes against the side of the balcony and he comes for me then. Tall, handsome, intimidating as hell. He grabs me by the back of my hair, tilting my chin upwards and ripping away my sheet at the same time.
“Did you think that throwing me tidbits of information would change things?” I cry, covering myself as best I can with my arms and hands. “You’ve kept me caged like an animal for two days with no clothes, barely any food… Go on then, fuck me. But you’ll never have my respect or my desire.”
He laughs again and shakes his head at me. “Then we’ll have to agree to disagree. Do you think I don’t feel the way your body quivers whenever I touch you, or how you moan ecstasy into my mouth when I play with you here.” He pinches my left nipple between his thumb and his forefinger and I wince in pain. “Your body betrays you time and time again, Eve Miller. But you’re right about one thing, I am going to fuck you.”
He grabs me by my wrist and drags me inside, ripping open the mosquito net and hurling me onto the four-poster bed. By the time I recover he’s already naked and climbing in next to me. I try to bolt to one side but he tips me onto my back and pins my body to the mattress with his hips.
“Stop!” I beg but there’s no real passion behind my plea. He’s right. Some messed-up part of me wants this as much as him.
He’s all I can see and smell. My senses are exploding from the heat and the length of him pressed so tightly against my bare skin and that beat is back, thrumming over and over between my legs. His erection lies heavy and thick between us as he starts to grind his body against mine, rubbing against the tip of my clitoris on purpose until I’m wet and shuddering. At the same time he wrenches my arms above my head and holds them there, kissing me hungrily, nipping at my lower lip with his teeth, demanding entry and then overwhelming my mouth with his tongue. Before I can stop them my legs are parting to increase the friction and I’m kissing him back with the same heat and intensity. There’s no gentleness today. That time has passed. He needs to claim me and I need to claim him back.
“Are you a virgin, my angel?” he murmurs and I shake my head. I watch his eyes narrow and darken. I’ve disappointed him with my reply, I’m not as pure as his endearment suggests.
There’s a new roughness to his touch now as if he’s punishing me for it. He releases my hands to work his mouth down my body, tasting every part of me, pausing to draw at my nipples, dividing his time equally until they’re both tender and sore. I’m cut adrift on a golden haze of sensations until I feel his breath between my legs. Startled, I try to twist away from him. It’s too intimate. Too soon. But he just forces them wider apart with his hands as his tongue follows an unflinching line right up through my folds before circling my clitoris. Retracing his route, he rims my opening and then slides his tongue inside me, his fingers moving higher to continue their pressure.
“Oh god!”
I’m writhing beneath him now, driving my heels into the mattress in a bid to control the chaos that’s threatening to devour me. I dig my fingers into his hair and arch my back in ecstasy as he continues his never-ending assault. My core is burning with a delicious fire and I can feel myself skidding closer and closer to that precipice… With a cry I come harder than I ever have before, grinding myself into his mouth as the waves of pleasure tear the breath from my lungs.
With a growl he returns to my lips, kissing me crudely, almost viciously, and giving me no time to recover. I can taste and smell my arousal on his lips. His stubble is smarting my cheeks.
“Give yourself to me,” he says harshly, settling himself between my thighs, his erection sliding easily over my opening. I’m so wet for him and he knows it. “You’re not fooling anyone with this charade, my angel. Do you want me or not?”
“Yes,” I gasp, giving in to my desire, pushing all thoughts of betrayal and shame aside. In response, he powers forward on his elbows, driving all the way into me with one single, brutal thrust. He’s as hard as stone and big – too big.
I scream out in pain and he freezes, hovering over me, my face imprisoned between his thick forearms, his dark eyes scorching
into mine. A look of understanding passes between us that shocks me even more than the intensity of my orgasm. It’s the hint – a whisper – of a budding connection that goes way beyond this bedroom.
“Relax, Eve,” he soothes, swaying his hips from side to side, loosening my core and sliding in even deeper. “I’ll only hurt you if you don’t.”
“It’s too much,” I whimper, placing the palms of my hands against his chest.
Him, his touch, the strength of this desire for each other…
“You’re wrong, my angel. We’re only just getting started.”
Another look passes between us, and in that moment I believe every word he says.
Easing himself out of me, his next thrust is much less violent. Pain starts to intermingle with pleasure as he continues to move at this new, measured pace, acquainting our bodies and deliberately hitting a sweet spot deep inside me that’s flooding my core with need.
Over and over. His stamina never wavers. The raw heat of his skin is skimming across mine, creating a delectable friction and my stomach muscles are coiling again. He curses suddenly in that unfamiliar language and I’m tipped over the edge once more as I hear him groaning long and deep into my hair. There’s a sharp jerk of his hips as he comes too, his cock lengthening and thickening as he works his climax all the way into me.
Afterwards, he pauses briefly to rest his forehead against mine, intermingling the sweat from his brow with my own.
“I’m not done yet, mi alma.”
And before I can stop him he’s flipped me over onto my front and his cock is pushing up against my entrance again. My eyes flutter open in shock. Despite his orgasm he’s still rock-hard.
Positioning himself, he drives back into me pausing only once he’s deep inside to slide a warm palm under my stomach. He then urges my body backwards until I’m resting on my knees, still delectably full of him.
With my palms pressed tightly against the wall in front of me he starts to move, his powerful thrusts jolting my body forward over and over. There’s no preamble here. I’m under no illusions of what this is – cold, hard, fucking – but the skill and control in which he’s taking my body is fragmenting every negative thought. There’s nothing but the feel of him, the delicious smell. No one else exists but us.
Minutes… Hours… I have no idea how long he takes me like this but time will never be my enemy here, not when he’s driving me on through these constant waves of ecstasy. I lose count of the number of orgasms I have. Every nerve is screaming, aching; my breath is ragged and uneven. And still this relentless pounding…
My arms are tiring, I can barely support myself; my knees keep slipping out from under me and only his vice-like grip on my hips holds me steady. Then finally, when I don’t think my body can take anymore, he comes with a strangled groan, releasing his hot seed deep inside me.
Collapsing forward against the headboard, we stay locked together for ages, his breath lacing the skin at the nape of my neck, the air around us thick with sex and sweat, the room silent save the sound of our pounding hearts. There are no words, no adjectives, to describe the power of what has just happened. This man, this beautiful maleficent devil, has crashed headfirst into me and tilted my whole world on its axis.
His weight is beginning to crush me but I’m too weak to push him away. He seems to realize this. Sliding out of my body he guides me back down to the bed until I’m splayed out on my front with him lying on his side next to me. He tucks the sheet around my lower back and kisses my bare shoulder. He starts to say something but his words fuse with my exhaustion and I’m fast asleep before he finishes.
The next thing I know bright sunshine is streaming in through the closed windows and the bed is cold and empty again. I lift my aching head from the pillow and gaze in despair at the locked door. I gave myself completely to him last night but my situation has only worsened. Before yesterday he only held my body captive.
Now he has a grip on something else as well.
8
Dante
I watch her sleeping until the burnt, umber hues of dawn begin to temper the darkness. Light steals into my room but she barely stirs. I want to wake her and lose myself in her again but there’s something about the way she sleeps that stops me. She curls up like a child, tucking her knees to her chest, with her arms and her dark hair fanning out across the white pillowcase. It portrays an innocence, a trust. Two qualities that I don’t deserve from her right now, not after what I’ve already taken tonight.
I indulged and feasted until I was sore and sated, until every part of me was satisfied, and still I couldn’t get enough of her. I took and took and pushed her to her limits. I let the darkness inside me devour us both, craving the oblivion that it brought. I gave her pleasure in return, many hours of it, but at what cost?
Fuck.
There goes my conscience again, flickering and false-starting like a motor in winter. She does this to me and I don’t have a damn clue as to why.
Sometime around 5am I slip from the bed and make my way downstairs. Walking past the rows of shelves in the library, I run my fingers along the edge of one, feeling for a small button. Once located, a low mechanical hum sounds and I step back to allow the concealed door to swing open.
Inside my private sanctum I pay no regard to the lines of discolored military medals on the wall, nor do I glance at the faded black and white photograph of a little girl. She was the perfect seed that planted the roots of so much hate in my life. I’m still biding my time as far as she’s concerned. I’ll not forgive. I’ll never forget. Consumed by a fit of rage suddenly, I rip the medals down and head for the closet next door to deposit my unwanted memories in a drawer.
Stripping quickly, I step into the shower cubicle and raise my head to embrace the boiling water. Only then do I allow myself a brief moment to indulge. That girl is the reason there are no pictures on my walls, no personal possessions of any kind on display in my house. No trace of the man I really am. My enemies found a weakness in me once and I’ll never give them the satisfaction again. These days my true identity is as subtly concealed as this bunker, and that’s the way it was going to stay until an angel walked right past me on a dirty, desolate street.
I’m playing with fire as far as she’s concerned. I know I can’t keep her. Her presence in my life will only cause problems. I made a pact with my brother fifteen years ago. No one gets close to us. Ever. Besides, I’ve fucked her now so this whole situation should be done. The way I see it I have two choices – kill her or send her back to America. One problem. Neither of them are having any sway over me right now.
Get a grip, Dante.
I reach for a towel to dry myself, roughly slaking the water from my skin. There must be another way but I’m running out of time. Joseph’s dossier on her must be nearly done. He’s going to make the connections with the DEA agent and then he’ll give me merry hell about it. If Emilio finds out it’ll be worse.
My cell beeps. It’s Joseph.
Emilio on line 1
I curse under my breath. This should be interesting. I may have obliterated the Garcia cartel but I still haven’t given him an explanation for Miami… The reason why my DEA target is still alive and breathing.
I tap out a quick reply.
Be there in two.
I step back into the bedroom of my bunker and dress quickly before making my way upstairs. Eve is still asleep, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow. The white sheet has slipped to her waist, exposing her breasts. I’m tempted to drop to my knees and wrap my mouth around one of those pink buds and suck gently until it puckers and lengthens between my lips. Instead, I find myself rearranging the sheet across her chest and exiting the room, resolving not to lay another finger on her again until I have a plan in place. I tell myself it’s for her own good but I know I’m lying. If I get any closer I’ll lose perspective. If I press my mouth to that body again I run the risk of bringing us both down in a hail of bullets.
Joseph lifts his h
ead and scowls at me as I enter my office. What’s crawled up his ass and died? His moods are nowhere near as capricious as mine but when he blows up he’s a formidable adversary. He’s standing by the phone system on my desk that’s flashing a single, solitary red light at me.
“My brother, I presume?” I say mildly.
When he doesn’t reply I take my place in the leather chair next to the desk and reach out to switch the holding call to speakerphone. He slaps his hand down on top of mine at the last second to stop me.
“We need to talk.”
“Not now,” I say, shaking him off with a frown. “Let me take this call. Emilio’s waiting.”
“Since when have you ever given a damn about that? Emilio can wait a little while longer.”
“Fine, then talk.” Leaning forward in my chair, I start drumming my fingers against the desk.
“Eve Miller,” states Joseph grimly, moving to stand in front of me, his grey eyes boring into mine. Two words I’m learning come with a shit load of complication. My drumming slows and then stops but there’s never a flicker of a reaction on my face.
“You’ve completed your dossier then?”
“You’re playing with fire, Dante,” he says, echoing my own thoughts.
I laugh but it’s a hollow, empty sound. “I’m betting you couldn’t find the first fucking thing about her, Grayson. There’s not a single item in that document that’ll shock me. She’s as wholesome as they come, a real American homegrown sweetheart… I assume this is about her father, or rather her father’s occupation?” I glare up at him, daring him to take this further.
“That surprised me, I’ll admit,” he says, gazing back at me steadily but there’s a trace of anger in his eyes now. We don’t keep secrets from each other, not when the business is involved. “I’m not so concerned about him, though.”
“Oh?” Now he’s piqued my interest. “Tell me quickly. I need to deal with this call.”
Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1) Page 5
