Guilty by Blood (Santiago Family)

by CJ Bishop

  Oh fuck—I’m dead. Cruz whimpered as Sanchez turned around and rocked his ass in his face, then gyrated lower until he was nearly sitting in his lap. His hips pivoted, rolling his ass round and round on Cruz’s throbbing cock until Cruz felt his balls tighten. Holy fuck—he’s gonna make me cum!

  “Oh my God, baby…” Cruz gasped and instinctively lifted his hips as he ran his hands over Sanchez’s heated, damp ass cheeks, sliding his thumbs through the crease. Sweat broke out all over Cruz’s body and all he could think about was his lover’s ass…right there…taunting his cock.

  Sanchez lifted with a smooth rhythm and circled around. His dark eyes burned through Cruz and, keeping in time with the music, began to strip away Cruz’s briefs. Oh fuck! His member sprang free, stiff as a board as his underwear slid down his thighs, his calves, off his feet, and were tossed away. Cum juice bubbled from his cock head and trickled down his shaft. Sanchez licked his lips so sexily that Cruz about burst then and there.

  “You are going to kill me,” he gasped shakily as Sanchez danced in closer, rubbed his palms up Cruz’s hot thighs, and dipped his head down, flicking his tongue across the glossy tip of his dick. “Uh! Shit…” his cock jumped and stretched, swelling so thick and hard he feared it would split its own skin. He reached for Sanchez but the man sidled away, shaking his head and wagging his finger. Cruz whimpered in agony, pulses rolling up his shaft.

  “Hands behind your back, baby,” Sanchez murmured with a sexy huskiness. “No touching.”

  Cruz whimpered and complied, lacing his fingers behind the chair and squeezing hard to keep his hands there. His throat was a barren wasteland as his hot breath surged in and out of his lungs.

  Moving back in, Sanchez licked his cock again then very slowly dragged the firm tip of his tongue up the underside of Cruz’s dick, gathering his cum juices as he went. Cruz flinched, his member jerking, as Sanchez teased the split beneath his cock head then engulfed the full head for a single quick suck then pulled off him.

  “Fuck…” Cruz choked, body trembling.

  Sanchez resumed his dance, sidling over Cruz’s lap once more. He cupped his face and kissed his mouth as he undulated his ass down to his cock until the tip nudged between his cheeks.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” Cruz moaned, about to burst into tears if the man didn’t get him off soon.

  Sanchez smiled against his mouth, then rocked and swayed down lower. He ran the tip of his tongue up and down the rippled muscle underneath his shaft, applying pressure here and there, occasionally assaulting the sensitive groove of his cock head. Cruz’s insides were shaking as his balls filled to capacity and felt like they would explode. Sanchez didn’t let up, but continued to slide the firm tip of his tongue along his hard dick, swirling it around the plump drooling head, then back to the shaft.

  “Oh my God…” Cruz cried brokenly and his head dropped back, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck…fuck…uuhhh….you’re gonna make me cum…oh fuck…fuuck!” His balls clenched and cum rushed up through his shaft as Sanchez grabbed the underside of his cock with his strong lips and sucked along the full length, his slick tongue working against his hard flesh. “Uuuhh! God! Fuuuck!” Cum shot from his cock in a geyser, his dick jerking as it pumped his juices high up on his chest. “Shit! Shiiitt! Uuhh!”

  Sanchez lifted his head as Cruz’s cock continued to twitch, a few more tiny squirts shooting out. Cruz gasped hard, his member still firm as the remaining cum dribbled from the head and down his shaft. Sanchez groaned and dropped his mouth on his cock, taking him into his throat, sucking him hungrily.

  “Fuck…” Cruz choked and released his hands and grabbed Sanchez’s head. “Oh my God…mmm…fuck…”

  When Sanchez finally pulled off him, he kissed Cruz hard and straightened up. The mesh crotch of his G-string stretched dangerously, his dick-flesh straining against the tiny holes in the material. The fabric was wet with cum juice, and suddenly Cruz’s dry mouth was salivating. He yanked down the front of the G-string and engulfed his lover’s cock. Sanchez gasped sharply and gripped his head, clutching his hair.

  “Oh fuck…” his hips began to rock…thrust…pumping his dick in and out of Cruz’s throat. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned tightly and squeezed Cruz’s strands fiercely. “Oh my God…fuck…yes…”

  His hands shaking, Cruz dragged the G-string off the man’s hips and down his thighs then grabbed his ass cheeks, spread him open, and burrowed a finger into his tight hole.

  “Uh!” Sanchez flinched then groaned with pleasure and fucked Cruz’s mouth with greater urgency. “Oh, fuck yes, baby, I wanna cum so fucking bad.” He pushed Cruz off him. “But not just yet.” Sanchez stripped off the G-string then grabbed Cruz and threw him onto the bed then crawled after him. “Turn around.” He had a hold of him before Cruz could comply and positioned him on hands and knees. “Here we go,” he groaned. “This is how it’s done.” He spit in his hand and lathered his cock.

  Cruz gasped when he shoved in all at once. “Fuck, yeah…show me what kind of lover I’m marrying.” He already knew, but was always eager for a recap.

  He wasn’t surprised when Sanchez immediately cut loose and fucked him furiously; the man had been so close to cumming when he’d been buried in Cruz’s mouth.

  Cruz smacked one hand against the wall to steady himself as Sanchez pounded his ass, knocking him forward on the bed. Hard breaths exploded from them both as Cruz thrust back to him, rocking his ass wildly on his lover’s cock as the man’s long, thick shaft filled him up as full as he could get.

  “Oh fuck…” Cruz cried, panting erratically. “Yes…fuck me…harder…”

  Sanchez curled a muscled arm around his stomach and locked him in tight as he long-stroked him deep and hard. “Oh my God,” he grunted. “Your ass feels so good, baby…so fucking good.” He drove in with added force, his strokes shortening, growing quicker, urgent, his pelvis slapping furiously against Cruz’s ass. “Uuhh! Fuck—I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum…”

  Cruz grabbed his own cock and pumped himself wildly; his dick hadn’t hardly gone down from before, and was again hard as a rock, his balls full. “Oh fuck…fuck…don’t stop, baby…I’m gonna cum again, too…Oh fuck—fuck!”

  “Shit!” Sanchez yelled and emptied his load, fucking him harder, faster, deeper. “Cum, baby—cum for me—now—now…”

  Choking on a strangled cry, Cruz burst, his fist whipping up and down his shaft, his juices squirting all over the bed. “Uuuhh!” his back bowed as he clenched his cock and squeezed out the final shots of cum. He exhaled on a hard gasp and collapsed. Sanchez came down with him, rocking the bed as they landed heavily. “Shit,” Cruz panted. “Oh my God…you…you fucking blew my mind.”

  Sanchez kissed his damp, heated hair and wrapped him in his strong arms. “Just thought I would return the favor,” he murmured breathlessly. “You blew my mind when you asked me to be your husband.”

  Turning over, Cruz kissed him, pushing his fevered, slick body against him. He stroked his face and pressed his head to his brow. “I’ll never be sorry I asked, baby,” he whispered.

  “I’ll never be sorry I said yes.” Sanchez kissed him softly, deeply, and held him closer, tighter.

  Cruz smiled, a sigh escaping him as his head slid down against his fiancé’s shoulder and his eyes drifted close. “I love you, baby,” he mumbled as sleep pulled him under, and somewhere in his slumber he heard Sanchez’s gentle reply; I love you, too.

  •

  “I think my family has already adopted you.” Caterina smiled at Flynn, her cheeks heated and breath quick from their tender, yet very intense, love making. “You should have seen their reaction when I first brought Armand home. It took Cruz and Sanchez all of maybe five minutes before they determined he was a very bad choice.” She pulled Flynn’s arm around her and he held her tight. “They were right,” she whispered. “I guess I wanted so much to believe that the whole fairytale thing was for real, that the prince Charming I’d fantasized about after my d
ad died would find me in real life. Armand was charming and romantic at first, and I let it blind me.”

  “That’s understandable,” he murmured.

  Caterina pressed back against him as both his arms circled her and locked her deep in his embrace. “I was scared of making that mistake with you,” she whispered. “I was falling for you so fast, I thought maybe I was missing something…the way I had missed it with Armand.”

  “And now?” He kissed her ear. “Are you still worried that all this might turn bad, the way it did with him?”

  She smiled. “No.”

  “Because your family approves of me?”

  “Because you proved yourself to me,” she said softly. “Armand would have never put himself in danger for me, never protected me the way you did. You could’ve walked away and left me there at the mercy of Riccardo and the other men, but you didn’t.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it tenderly. “You are the Prince Charming of my childhood fantasies, Flynn,” she whispered. “My knight in shining armor.” She turned over and faced him, kissing him with tender passion. “You are the one I’ve been waiting for.”

  CHAPTER 40

  “Ties That Bind”

  ______________________________________________

  “Tell me…” the cowboy looked down at Riccardo, his frighteningly chilling stare alive with curiosity. “How old were you when you murdered that thirteen-year-old boy’s mother in cold blood? Were you still a kid yourself? Out to make a name for yourself with the big boss?”

  Riccardo swallowed hard, his gag reflex fully kicked in. His throat was parched and tongue so dry it felt like it was growing scales. He didn’t know what the fuck that powder was that they had forced him to swallow, but it had sucked out every ounce of saliva, leaving his mouth and throat a desert wasteland.

  “Answer me and I might give you a drink of water,” the cowboy bargained.

  “I…” his voice rasped thick and his throat worked as he tried to speak. “I was…seventeen.”

  The cowboy nodded. “Not yet an adult and already a killer.” His eyes narrowed with interest. “You were never a good boy, were you? Bet you squeezed out of your momma already rotten to the core.”

  “You…you said you would give me…water.”

  The Egyptian appeared above him, his eyes like cold steel. “He said he might.”

  “Now, now,” the cowboy murmured. “A condemned man deserves one final drink.” He looked at Riccardo. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

  Riccardo blinked. “Wh-What? Why?” What would he dump in his mouth? Would it really be water—or more of the bitter powder? He wouldn’t be surprised if the fucker pissed in his mouth.

  “If you want a drink,” the cowboy said. “You have to show some trust. Do you believe me when I say I’ll give you water?” He squinted and leaned down a bit. “The truth, now. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  Riccardo didn’t believe him, but what would the man do if he said no?

  The cowboy produced a plastic water bottle, filled to the brim. “Trust me, and I’ll give you the whole bottle if you like.”

  Riccardo stared covetously at the bottle. Just because it looks like water doesn’t mean it is water.

  Chuckling low, the cowboy seemed to read his thoughts. “You think this might not be water? Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not. Are you thirsty enough to take the risk?” He slowly unscrewed the cap. “Just say the word, close your eyes, and open your mouth…and you’ll find out.” He slowly rocked it back and forth. “I say it’s water…what do you say?”

  Was this part of the torture? Deplete every ounce of saliva in his mouth, then taunt him with what appeared to be water but surely wasn’t—knowing he was dying for a drink? Extreme thirst had a way of making a man willing to drink anything placed before him, and Riccardo was almost to that point. But not quite yet.

  Riccardo shook his head. “I…I don’t believe…it’s water.”

  The Egyptian chuckled low, sending cold shivers down Riccardo’s spine.

  Exhaling deeply, the cowboy shrugged. “You should learn to have faith in people.” He tipped the bottle to his lips and sucked down half the bottle then wiped his mouth. “Refreshing.”

  “You…you tricked me,” Riccardo rasped. “You knew I wouldn’t believe you.” He strained against the chains, his face twisting. “Give it to me…I need water.”

  “I would have given it to you,” he said. “You just had to trust me.”

  “Why would I trust you, you fuck? You knew I wouldn’t!”

  The cowboy held up the bottle and the remaining contents above Riccardo’s head, tipping it until the water lapped at the rim but stopped just short of spilling out. “You should be more respectful.”

  “I-I’m sorry…I am…please…” he opened his mouth, begging for even a drop or two.

  “No, you’re not,” the cowboy murmured. “Men like you only show remorse when it benefits you, but it isn’t sincere.”

  “I-I am sincere,” Riccardo choked. “Please…”

  “Did you listen when the girl asked you to please not rape her?” the cowboy wondered. “Didn’t you ignore her and proceed to violate her against her wishes? Explain to me, then, why your plea for mercy is worth more than hers? Did the boy’s mother plead with you not to kill her?”

  Riccardo stared up at him, his vision hazy. “No…” he whimpered when the cowboy tipped the bottle and the water splattered the table next to his face, missing his mouth altogether.

  “You’re right,” the cowboy drawled. “No, it is not worth more.”

  The Egyptian brandished his large knife and looked across the table at the cowboy. “Are you through playing with him? Can we proceed? I would like to get home sometime tonight. I’m starving and horny as fuck.”

  The cowboy nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Proceed,” he said. “A hot meal and hard fuck sounds good to me as well.” He leaned over Riccardo. “Two delicacies you won’t get in hell.” His smile twitched. “Then again, I may be mistaken about the hard fuck.” He winked. “I hear ole Lucifer swings both ways.” He chuckled low and deep.

  Riccardo was not amused. Not one fucking bit.

  •

  “Can Tae spend another night?” Jules was fresh out of the tub and in his footy pajamas, skating around on the kitchen floor in Scooby-Doo slippers. Cowboy chased his feet, trying to grab the Scooby head on the tip of the slippers, making the boy giggle as he scooted away, causing the puppy to grow more determined and excited as it began to yap at his feet.

  Adrian was putting away dinner leftovers as Tae and Callum finished up the dishes and washed down the counters and table. “I’m sure it would be all right,” Adrian said. “I’ll talk to Clint when he comes in.”

  One of the older men—Angelo—appeared in the kitchen doorway. “There you are,” he scowled playfully at Jules. “I turned around and you were gone.”

  Jules giggled and skated over to him as Angelo scooped him up just before the pup grabbed his left slipper. “Oh!” Jules laughed. “He almost got Scooby!” He thrust his foot out and wriggled the slipper back and forth.

  “You’re supposed to be in bed, buckaroo.”

  Adrian walked over and ruffled Jules’ damp hair. “You didn’t tell me you escaped Papa Jo.”

  Jules grinned shyly and tucked his head against Angelo’s neck.

  “Sly little bugger.” Adrian kissed his shoulder, then laid another kiss on Angelo’s mouth. “You gotta watch that one every second.”

  Tae paused in washing the table and stared at the two men as they interacted with one another and Jules. His throat suddenly hurt as a lump formed; what was it like to grow up in a loving home with loving parents?

  “Tae?” Adrian asked gently. “Are you okay?”

  Tae blinked and felt dampness in his eyes. “Yeah,” he mumbled and went back to washing the table.

  “What’d you do?” Angelo asked Adrian with a teasing tone. “Put the poor kid to work?�
��

  Adrian laughed lightly. “He insisted on helping.”

  “It’s true,” Tae murmured, smiling.

  Angelo nodded. “A sixteen-year-old boy who wants to do chores.” He chuckled. “He’s a keeper.”

  Jules flattened his hands on Angelo’s face. “Can Tae spend another night?” he asked for the second time.

  “I told you,” Adrian said. “We’ll talk to Clint when he comes in.”

  “He won’t care,” Jules insisted excitedly.

  “Probably not,” Adrian agreed. “But even so.”

  “Did you even bother to ask Tae if he wanted to spend another night?” Angelo inquired, tickling the boy. “Maybe you’ve run him ragged.”

  Jules squirmed and giggled. “Huh-uh.”

  Tae laughed softly; the boy had worn him out, but it was a good feeling. A good tired. Not like the exhaustion he suffered from working at the Blue Grotto. That never felt good. Even being allowed to go to bed was not much of a reward. He never knew when his owner would come in drunk and force himself on him. Every night, he’d gone to sleep praying he wouldn’t wake up again.

  “Hey.” Callum approached and nudged his shoulder. “You sure you’re okay,” he asked quietly.

  Tae nodded. “Yeah. Just… thinking about stuff.”

  “The club?” Callum’s face pinched a little. When Tae nodded again, he patted his back. “That’s a part of your past now. You never have to set foot in that nasty place again.”

  “The boy’s right.” Clint entered the kitchen abruptly, his words directed at Tae. “You’ll never see that shithole again.”

  “Um!” Jules snickered. “Uncle Clint said a bad word.”

  Angelo cocked an eyebrow at the cowboy. “Uncle Clint needs to remember we have little ones with big ears and impressionable vocabularies.”

  “Sorry,” Clint grunted, looking sheepish, and Jules giggled.

  Tae and Callum exchanged a look and laughed.