by K. Webster
When she rounds the desk, I roll the chair away and lean back in it. I point in front of me. “Sit there, mi diablita.”
Her palms find the mahogany surface and she hoists herself on top of it. I smirk when she primly crosses her ankles. Rolling back toward her, I keep my legs spread apart and pin her shins with the front of my chair. With my eyes on hers, I take my time pulling a cigar from the drawer. She watches me as I take my father’s old metal lighter and flick the lid open to produce a flame. I burn the end of the cigar until it’s lit and then suck in the rich smoke. Camilo left these Cohiba Esplendido cigars for me as a parting gift. Unlike Tatiana, Vienna doesn’t flinch when I blow the smoke up at her pretty face.
“Esteban kidnapped and raped you. And then you escaped?” I question as I take another puff.
Her brows crash together and she shakes her head. “Not exactly. He kept me for months. I thought I…” A frown tugs at her perfect lips. “I thought maybe he cared about me, but I later realized he’d been drugging me. I’d only recently come out of my stupor when he and his brother came up with the plan to send me here.”
I stiffen at her words. “To kill me?”
A blush creeps up her slender neck and she nods. “But I told them I’d never killed anyone before. I didn’t want to do it.”
Anger bubbles up inside of me. “So you agreed to—”
“I agreed to nothing,” she hisses, her gaze fiery enough to melt glaciers.
“So they kicked your ass, raped you, and dumped you on my lawn?” This makes no fucking sense.
The hardness leaves her expression, and she once again appears to be lost. This is the side of her that plucks at my heartstrings. I cannot deal with a vulnerable woman without wanting to tear the heads off of everyone who harmed her in her past.
“You forgot he also drugged me,” she says with a dark laugh. “But what I told you was true. They betrayed me.”
I inhale another long drag of my cigar and scrutinize her. Hurt flashes in her eyes but she won’t let it surface. She is fierce, this one.
“Why do they think you are so loyal to them? That you’ll actually follow through with their plan after what they did to you?” I demand, taking another puff from my cigar. “Did they really assume you’d do their bidding and kill me? That you are even capable of killing me? Assuming you could, why would you?”
She uncrosses her ankles, and I can’t help but drop my gaze to her thighs. The dress hides what lies beneath but it doesn’t keep my stare from lingering there in hopes of catching a peek.
“I’m a good actress,” she tells me, her voice but a whisper. “When I finally snapped out of my haze, I continued to play the part of broken, submissive woman. Esteban assumes I’ll behave and follow his orders.” She shudders. “I’m done being told what to do. I’m not ever going back to him.”
We hold each other’s gaze for a long while until her stomach grumbles. I tug the cigar away and lift an eyebrow at her. “You waited to eat dinner with me?”
Her nostrils flare. “You told me to.”
“I thought you were done being told what to do,” I challenge and run my knuckle along the inside of her knee.
Her body shivers at my touch, but she doesn’t move away from me. “I need your help,” she murmurs.
“You want them killed. And then what? I am to set you free?”
When her stomach growls before she can answer, I yank my phone from my breast pocket. I call down to the kitchen and bark out an order for them to deliver our food. Once I hang up, I lean back in my chair once again. The need to touch her is strong, but my cock muddies my brain. I need to think clearly for a moment.
“Mi diablita…”
“Yes.” Her voice catches and for a split second she seems conflicted by her answer. Sadness flickers in her eyes. But then, her nostrils flare and she lifts her chin bravely. “I am no one to you, I know this. But I have money. I can pay you for your services.”
What is it with these fucking adorable American beauties trying to make deals with me? I’m a bad man. A conqueror. Not some fair and just douchebag who is swayed by a pair of pretty tits and a shy smile. Oh…oh, wait. Perhaps I am that douchebag.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” I grumble as I take a drag from my cigar. “But I don’t want your money.”
She narrows her glittering green eyes at me. “Well, I don’t care. You’re not doing it for free.”
With my cigar between my teeth, I laugh and wink at her. “Oh, I want something in exchange.” My gaze travels to her perfect rack. “I want something so very badly.” When I finally look back up at her, she’s not wearing a look of fear like her cute friend Gabriella did when we were making deals not so long ago. This girl is all fire and fury. The fucking devil in female form. Her red eyebrow that’s recently been plucked to perfection is arched in a challenge. I’m pretty sure the look she’s giving me is going to bring me to my knees one day. That look will be my demise.
“You want sex?” Her voice is hard, but it quivers ever so slightly. I notice it and latch on to her sliver of fear.
“I want sex,” I agree as my knuckle teases her inner thigh again. “I want other things, too.”
“Like what?” she murmurs, her bottom lip looking quite bitable right now.
“I’m not sure yet but I’ll let you know.”
She reaches forward, lowering her cleavage closer to my face and plucks my cigar from my teeth. I let out a groan when she slides into my lap and straddles my thighs. This girl is playing a dangerous game—a game she won’t win. Not with me.
“You need me for more than sex,” she tells me, her tone confident as she takes the most erotic drag from my cigar. The way her plump lips wrap around the tip has my cock aching for relief. Then, her fingertips are ghosting over the scars on my face. Her thumb slips into my mouth and she pulls it open.
I’ve pursued lots of women.
Women may be my weakness, but I’m really fucking good at showing them my strength.
I know what they want and I give it to them.
Seduction is my game.
Yet right now, this red-haired devil is playing my game better than I do. She exhales the cigar smoke into my mouth and brushes her lips against mine. I let out a hungry growl as I dig my fingertips into her hips.
“Be careful how you tread, mi diablita,” I hiss, my hands barely staying under control.
“Or what?”
I snag her wrist and bring the cigar to my lips. “You might get in too deep. Don’t forget that you’re playing with fire here.”
She grinds against my lap, causing me to hiss in pleasure. When her eyes meet mine, they’re downright fucking evil. “I know all about fire, so trust me, I won’t be the one who gets burned.”
This bitch delivers threat after threat, and yet I’m gritting my teeth to keep from blowing my load in my pants. She’s got my head all twisted up. This girl, who days ago, I fucking nursed to health, has morphed into this sultry demon hell-bent on bringing me down. Sure, she wants vengeance on the Rojas brothers. That much is clear.
But she also wants me.
Dead.
I can see it in her eyes.
Feel it in her murderous glares.
Hear it in her softly spoken threats.
And yet, here I am, indulging the succubus of a woman. I’m wondering how many times I’ll get to fuck her before she delivers that fatal blow when I least expect it. Leaning forward, I drag my nose along the bare part of her tit, peeking over the top of her dress. She lets out a gasp that has me grinning wolfishly.
“Well, Vienna,” I murmur against her flesh. “Looks like you’ve made yourself a deal. I’ll bring down the bastards who hurt you and then I’ll bring you down to your knees where you’ll suck my fat cock until you’re blue in the face.”
She sucks in a deep breath and leans away from me. Her lips are parted while her eyes are lit up like green flames. Hot with desire. On fire with lust.
“We have oursel
ves a deal, mi diablita?” I question as I take the cigar from her fingertips. “You for them?”
“Deal.”
PLAN D IS in full effect. I hide my smirk as I slide off the desk the moment a young man rolls in a cart of food. He wants to have sex with me in exchange for killing Esteban and Oscar. It’s almost too easy. Sex with a man like him would be kind of like a bonus, certainly not a chore. So I’ll bang Diego and then bolt. Win, win. At one point, I thought I wanted him dead too, but things change. He’ll make a better partner alive.
“Where are you going?” he questions, his voice low yet amused.
“I thought we were going to eat.” My tone is pouty, and I instantly hate how transparent I am when it comes to food.
“We are,” he growls. “But sit here.”
He pats his thigh beside the hard length that is every bit visible through his slacks. Whatever he’s packing in there looks dangerous. A big fat snake ready to strike. The cock he’s hiding is what male porn stars only wish they had.
Knowing I need Diego to carry out my plan, I obey. I kick off my heels and pad back over to him. The guy who brought our food is busy setting out the dishes on the desk without saying a word. I sit on Diego’s powerful thigh and can’t help but shiver. Do these Colombian men live on the regiment of sleep, fuck, and work out twenty-four hours a day?
I’m distracted by the man setting out the food. He places many different styles of dishes all over the surface that smell heavenly. I remember many of them from when I used to come visit. Dishes that are native to the country. My mouth waters for a taste.
“I’m not sleeping with you until you carry out your end of the bargain,” I tell him as I snag a hot seasoned piece of meat from a bowl. Flavor explodes on my tongue when I pop the sliver of steak into my mouth. A groan of pleasure rumbles from me. “Oh, God, that’s so good.”
Diego chuckles and his fingers run circles along my back through the fabric of the dress. “Carne Guisada con zanahoria,” he tells me, his voice friendly. “My mother’s recipe. It tastes better with the carrot sauce.”
He leans past me and spoons some of the orange-colored sauce onto the meat that’s been cut thinly. With a fork, he scoops up a mound of it and brings it to my face. My eyes dart over to his, searching for malice, but I only find eagerness in his expression. He wants me to like this dish.
I part my lips and accept the bite he feeds me. Esteban fed me sandwiches and soup. At one time, I’d thought it was borderline romantic.
Then I woke up.
Then I realized he was fucking with my head.
“Oh,” I murmur between chews. “That’s really good. Did your mother make it?”
His black eyebrows crash together and he scowls. “No. She’s dead.”
I swallow the morsels before regarding him sadly. “Mine’s dead too. Esteban drugged her with heroin like he drugged my friend Brie. When Esteban finally came back for us in the shipping container, it was too late. I was half starved to death and my mother had died from withdrawals.”
His eyes dart all over me. He clenches his teeth and scoops up another bite. I expect him to feed himself, but he once again gives me the bite. It should annoy me or remind me of Esteban. But it actually doesn’t bother me at all. The food is good and he’s not as evil as I originally thought.
At least I hope not.
I tend to see the best in the bad guys. They dazzle me with their evil grins and their bad boy muscles, and I fall hopelessly at their feet where they tend to kick me while I’m down.
“My mother died of pancreatic cancer. One day she was fine and strong. The next day, she was weak and dying.” His jaw clenches as he looks past me toward the wall. I follow his gaze to a painting. The woman in the picture is young and beautiful. Her dark hair is curled and pulled to one side. She smiles but her features are sad. I don’t have to be told it’s his mother, because I know. They look just alike.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, my eyebrows pinching together in pain. My mother was difficult and bitchy and unkind. It’s my father who I loved unconditionally, despite his flaws and mistakes. I understand how it feels.
He grunts and stabs at more meat. Once again, he feeds me rather than himself. I can tell the talk about deceased mothers has soured his mood. A bad mood doesn’t fare well with my need to keep him on my side. In order to keep the conversation light again, I pick up a different fork and poke at what looks like some shredded beef over rice. When I turn to look at him, he’s still staring at the portrait.
“Open up.” I flash him a smile before bringing the fork to his lips. “Partner.”
He smirks but obeys. “Carne Desmechada o Ropa Vieja,” he tells me after he swallows.
The rest of the meal carries on like this. I try many new dishes that I decide I very much love. After months and months of hardly any food at all with shit selection, dining with Diego feels like a royal feast.
“So you’re the king of Colombia now?” I question.
He chuckles, the sound boyish in quality. My stupid heart stutters at the sound of it. “I suppose so,” he agrees. “But if we’re partners and I’m the king…” His light brown eyes flicker up to mine and he grins wide. A shiver races down my spine. “Then you’re my queen.”
I hold his stare despite my desire to look away. I think he’s trying to intimidate me.
“I’m going to fuck you until those assholes are dead. That’s my deal, mi diablita.”
Mentally, I had hoped our deal just meant the one time. But deep down in my heart, I knew it would never be just once. “Whatever…” I trail off and reach forward to grab the knot of his tie. “Now?”
Surprise washes over his features, but then he hardens his expression. “When I want it, you will know. And when I come for it, you will give it to me.”
I unknot his tie despite his words. “Are you going to force me?”
He grips my wrist in a painful way. “I’ve never had to force a woman.” His eyes darken a shade. “They all beg for Daddy Diego’s cock.”
The moment of seriousness is swiped away when I snort with laughter. And as soon as one giggle escapes, an eruption of them soon follow. I laugh until tears stream out. When I sneak a glance at Daddy Diego, he’s glaring at me, which only serves to make me giggle harder.
Striking with the quickness of a snake, he jolts to his feet and twists me toward the desk. I cry out when he shoves me down on the hard surface. My hand smashes into a half eaten dish while my cheek gets pressed against what feels like dinner rolls. I cry out when he rubs against me through our clothes. His erection is giant and rock hard as it slides along the crack of my ass.
“You will beg for it,” he snarls, his fingers tangling up in my hair.
He’s furious, but I can’t help but start to giggle again. My villain sensor is broken and I can’t seem to turn off the part of me that provokes them. His grip on my hair becomes almost painful, and yet I continue to snort with laughter. I’m completely flattened against the food when he covers my body with his.
“Oh, Daddy Diego,” I choke out through amused tears, “please give me your cock.”
The man freezes behind me and then his chest starts to rumble. “What is wrong with you?” he grumbles against my hair near my ear. “I have you bent over my desk, with food staining your dress, with my angry anaconda pressed against your ass, and you’re still laughing. Have you no fear, woman?”
“Angry anaconda?” I snort again but then I relax despite the precarious position I’m in. “I haven’t laughed in so long. I forgot what it truly felt like.”
“I’m glad you’re so amused,” he bites out as he stands up, relieving me of his weight.
Carefully, I pull myself away from the desk. Plates clatter as I peel myself from them. When I look down, food is smeared all across the front of me.
“You’re fucking filthy.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “You made me this way.”
His jaw clenches as he points toward the door. “Go ge
t cleaned up and then meet me upstairs.”
“What’s upstairs?” I scrunch my nose up as I try to recall what’s on the third floor. Last I remember, it was full of junk.
“You’ll find out when you get there.” His gaze falls to my breasts. “Dress comfortably.”
Forty-five minutes later, my hair is clean and dried. The heavy makeup I had on before has been wiped away. He said to dress comfortably, so I’m standing in the bathroom staring at the white camisole and short silk shorts in the mirror, wondering if this is too comfortable.
The plan is to make him want me.
The plan is to make him kill them for me.
And per our agreement, I’m going to have to have sex with him. Lots of times, I’m sure. I meet my own green-eyed stare in the mirror. Dressed like this with no makeup, I look younger than my almost nineteen years of age. But the coy smile on my lips and the way my pink nipples show through my white shirt are far from innocent.
Esteban taught me that sex is animalistic and raw. Your mind shuts down as the nerves in your body take over. Pleasure exists where sanity cannot. It’ll be just like it was with Esteban. I will turn off my mind and take pleasure in the deed.
Before I chicken out, I creep out of the bathroom and start for my bedroom door. The house is quiet. I know there are staff members and his men in different areas of the house, but right now they’re being silent. I make my way down the dark hallways until I find the stairwell in the back. Hastily, I pound up the steps and push through the doorway at the top.
