El Diablo (The Devil): The Good Ol' Boys Spin Off

by M. Robinson

  “No. Don’t leave. All I need is you. Just you.”

  “Okay…” Something wasn’t right but I stayed, giving her what she needed.

  I’d wait for her to fall asleep, and then I’d go get another blanket for us. I knew my warmth wasn’t enough. She cried a little longer, but eventually her breathing became shallow, I could barely hear it. Her deep sleep took me under too, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep with her.

  I woke up the next morning in the same position as the night before, except only my mom’s heavy arm lay draped across my stomach.

  My eyes fluttered open, the sun shining bright on my face from the window by her bed.

  “Momma,” I groggily said, wiping sleep from my eyes. “Maybe we should do something fun today. We could go to the park, get you some fresh air. It looks like it’s a pretty day outside.”

  It was always hard for me to get her up in the morning. She slept like a rock. A bomb could go off in the house and she would stay asleep. I heard my stepdad yelling at her all the time, to stop taking so many pills. They weren’t good for her.

  I rolled over, still half asleep into the nook of her arm, gently laying my arm across her. She was even colder than she was last night, but now she felt so stiff too. My arm laid motionless, not rising and falling as she breathed in and out.

  “Momma?” I peered up at the side of her face, my eyes opening wide. “Momma!” Sitting straight up, I took in her pale white complexion. Her lips slightly open with a bluish-purple hue to them. “Momma! Momma!” I got up on my knees, shaking her as hard as I could. She didn’t move. “Momma!” I shook her again. “Why aren’t you moving? Why aren’t you waking up?” I placed my head over her heart.

  Nothing.

  I put my hand over her mouth. “Momma! Why aren’t you breathing?”

  I jumped out of bed, running as fast as I could into the living room. “Dad! Dad! Dad!” I screamed all the way through the house.

  “Lexi, it’s too early,” he grumbled as I shook him on the couch.

  “Dad! Please! It’s Mom! She won’t wake up! She’s not breathing! I don’t know what’s going on!”

  He bolted off the couch running toward the bedroom. “Fuck!” he shouted as soon as he got to her. “What did you do, baby? What the fuck did you do?” He shook her, taking her into his arms. Looking at all the pills on the nightstand then back to her. “Shit, what did you take? Baby, what did you take?”

  I stood in the doorway and watched everything move in slow motion. Tears running down my face, as I wrapped my arms around myself. Still being able to feel her cold, lifeless skin on mine. A feeling that would never leave me. I sank down to the floor, rocking back and forth, watching my stepdad try to breathe life back into her.

  Pumping on her chest…

  One, two, three.

  Screaming at me to call 911. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk, I could barely even breathe. My body in shock, my mind was spinning, my heart was pounding.

  My life was ending…

  Dad fell to his knees and broke down with his face in his hands. Sirens sounded in the distance. People talking all around me. Chaos from every corner of the house.

  I just sat there.

  Knowing right then and there I would have to break my promise to her.

  I would have forgiven my mother for anything…

  But I would never forgive her for this.

  “Read em’ and weep, gentleman,” I grinned to the high rollers sitting at my table.

  I collected my chips, tipped the dealer, and left. I flew into Vegas that morning to handle some business and blow off some steam at the same time. Who ever said you couldn’t mix business and pleasure, obviously had no clue what he was missing out on.

  Briggs was back home with her nanny and Esteban, like always. I had a fucking thirteen-year-old, hormonal teen girl at home that made me want to pull out my fucking hair. Our relationship was still rocky and that was putting it mildly, but at least she stopped hoping for and seeking out a bond with me.

  “Mr. Martinez, wait. Here are the documents for the quota you asked for,” James, my financial manager for the casinos, announced, joining me as I made my way toward the elevator.

  I swiped my keycard against the access pad for the penthouse floor. Stepping in with him by my side, letting the doors close behind us.

  “These numbers are still off, James,” I said, shaking my head, rubbing my fingers against my lips.

  “I know… I think—”

  “I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to handle my fucking money.” I shoved the documents into his chest, hard.

  He huffed out from the unexpected blow.

  I turned my attention to the chick that was in the elevator with us, watching her get down on her knees in front of me. She unzipped my slacks and pulled out my cock. Immediately deep throating me like she had something to prove.

  I grinned. Our eyes connected as I watched her suck me off for a few seconds. Unraveling from the feel of her pouty lips wrapped around my cock. I looked over at James, who was looking everywhere except at the scene going down in front of him. Reaching over, I hit the button to the next floor, waiting till we came to a stop and the elevator doors opened.

  “Get the fuck out,” I ordered, grabbing the back of the chick’s hair, leaning my head back against the wall before he even left. Once the doors closed, and the elevator started moving again, I pressed the emergency button, causing it to halt between floors.

  She released my cock with a pop, gasping for air. “Don’t you want to go up to your place?” she panted, batting her eyelashes at me.

  “Do you want to suck my cock, or do you want a tour around my penthouse? Because only the first one sounds semi-appealing to me.”

  A small smile crept around her mouth. “I want the infamous El Diablo to fuck me.”

  I wasn’t surprised that she knew who I was. There were very few people who didn’t, especially women. Gossip always traveled fast, especially for the elite and corrupt. I was the most eligible bachelor who had more money than he knew what to do with. Not to mention I was hung like a fucking horse. I got used to women throwing themselves at me, falling to their knees with their mouths open wide and their legs spread even wider.

  And it never got fucking old.

  I chuckled. “Is that right?” Gliding my fingers toward the back of her neck, I slowly and intentionally, massaged the soft nook area. Her head subconsciously leaned back into my touch, and she closed her eyes. I roughly gripped her hair, causing a moan to escape her swollen, cock sucking lips. I pulled her up to stand in front of me, eyeing her up and down. Her tits made me immediately want to stick my dick in between them, and come all over her average face.

  With my other hand, I started to unbutton the front of her dress, easing it off her shoulders, leaving her bare before me. I could already see her bare pussy was fucking glistening with wetness. My knuckles caressed the roundness of her breasts as her nipples hardened from my touch. Everywhere my fingers went, they left behind a craving for more.

  The way she breathed.

  The way she subtly leaned into my embrace.

  The way her mouth parted and her tongue moved to wet her dry lips.

  Her goddamn body trembled with every movement of my hand.

  I leaned forward, lightly touching my lips against her ear. “I’m going to make you beg,” I murmured, not being able to control the insatiable urge.

  She drew in a breath against my lips, as soon as my fingers found her wet folds. I roughly pushed my middle finger into her pussy, causing her to gasp from the intrusion, but she quickly recovered. Melting into my hand.

  “If you’re a good girl, I may let you come. Is that what you want?” I taunted, knowing damn well it was.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  “Say it.”

  “I want to come.”

  I finger fucked her until her eyes closed, her knees buckled, and the scent of her arousal surrounded us like it was a part of
the goddamn air. When I felt like she was close to coming, I pulled my fingers out of her pulsating pussy.

  Her eyes instantly opened, chest heaving, anticipating my next move.

  “What do you say?” I coaxed, trying to hold back my impatience from asking the fucking question again.

  She enticed my lips to touch hers. “I want to come,” she whispered against them.

  I smacked her pussy, hard. She shuddered, whimpering.

  “What. Do. You. Say?” I gritted out.

  Her eyes dilated, trying to step aside, but I grabbed her around her throat and shoved her against the wall, holding her in place with my tight grasp. Her hands instantaneously went right to mine. Prying at my fingers to let go.

  “Did I say you could go, yet?” I sneered, trying to hide my pleasure to her pain I was causing.

  Her eyes darkened.

  “You wanted El Diablo to fuck you, right? Isn’t that what you said? Isn’t that why you got down on your knees and sucked my cock in a goddamn elevator?”

  “Fuck you!” she shouted not backing down.

  My cock twitched.

  “What do you say?” I repeated, pressing her harder against the wall.

  She glared. “Let me go or I’ll scream.”

  I grinned, tightening my hold around her neck. “Scream,” I paused. “I fucking dare you.”

  Her mouth opened as I intensified my grip, lifting her off the floor a little, so she couldn’t make a sound. I tilted my head and pouted, wanting to provoke her even more. Her pussy was fucking wetter, visually betraying her exaggerated stare.

  “Don’t knock on the devil’s door, sweetheart, and expect him not to answer.” I brought my fingers up to my mouth, licking them. Placing them back on her clit, rubbing her bright red nub faster and with no mercy.

  If there was one pivotal lesson I learned about a woman, they loved to be stimulated, slowly. Let them ease into your hand or mouth. Too much stimulation wasn’t entirely bad, it wasn’t entirely good either.

  Finally easing up on my torturous movements against her clit, caressing it side-to-side with the palm of my hand. It didn’t take long for her eyes to glaze over and her breathing to even out.

  My stare caught her dark dilated eyes. Fighting the urge to give me what I wanted, but knowing I would make her come if she did. The internal battle was evident all over her face.

  Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Please…” she panted.

  “Please, what?”

  “Please… make me come…” she breathed out effortlessly.

  I smiled, big and wide, my dark eyes mirroring hers. I let her go, pushing her down onto her knees. Not letting her come.

  She obviously didn’t know who the fuck she was dealing with, and my patience was already wearing very thin.

  She peered up at me with hooded eyes, completely sedated and confused. She reached for my cock, but I shoved her off, and turned around. Tucking my dick back in my slacks, hitting the elevator button. Making it move again.

  “What the fuck?” she breathed out.

  “My cock deserves better, sweetheart. I'd call you a cunt, but you clearly lack the depth and warmth.”

  “Go to Hell,” she spat, gathering her things.

  “I live there.”

  I walked out without looking back.

  I wish I could tell you things got easier for me.

  I wish I could tell you I never felt any more sadness.

  I wish I could tell you I didn’t cry again.

  That my story got better.

  It didn’t…

  If anything, it got worse.

  Four years had gone by since my mother accidentally committed suicide with me in her arms. The coroner concluded it was an accidental overdose. She mixed too many different pills, and it caused her to go into cardiac arrest. My stepdad never let me forget that she accidentally took her life.

  I was punished daily for her sins.

  Whether I was awake or asleep.

  He turned into a different man after her funeral. He was barely ever home and when he was, he was half the man he used to be. He was drunk more often than not, empty whiskey bottles littered the house, replacing the empty pill bottles my mother always left lying around.

  Except to the outside world, he was still the perfect, doting stepfather.

  I was only twelve years old but felt way older. I guess maybe my whole life had been that way. I went through more than any kid my age was supposed to.

  But I never let that define me.

  Thank God for my ballet instructor Susan, I couldn’t survive without my dancing. It was my escape from the Hell I had been through since that morning.

  My only form of therapy.

  All the parents and the kids knew what my mom did. We lived in a small town in Rhode Island, and nothing stayed behind closed doors. If I thought the kids alienating me before my mother decided to end her life, I was wrong. Now I pretty much lived in my own little world, where I lived and breathed ballet.

  “You doing okay, Lexi?” Susan asked, pulling me away from my thoughts.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” I nodded, stretching my leg up on the top barre.

  “Everything okay at home?” she pried, walking over to adjust my posture.

  I shrugged, not wanting to tell her the truth. I never told anyone what happened at home. Too scared to be judged, too terrified of what would happen, too afraid of the truth itself. So, I kept my mouth shut, it was easier that way.

  “You know you can always talk to me, right?” she assured me, locking eyes with me through the full-length mirror.

  I nodded again, smiling. Desperately wanting to take her up on her offer, but again frightened by the repercussions.

  “You want to go through that new routine again?”

  “I’d love that.” Breathing a sigh of relief the questioning was over.

  For now, at least.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon lost in the tranquil beauty of the music, running my routine till my legs were shaking. Susan dropped me off like she always did when I stayed late. Never letting me ride my bike home when it was dark, knowing it wasn’t safe.

  Little did she know my house wasn’t either.

  I walked into the pitch-black house, waving good-bye to Susan. It looked as if my stepdad hadn’t been home all day, which only meant he was drinking out tonight. I went straight into the shower, letting the warm water seep into my sore muscles. Stretching again before I went to bed.

  I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. It never mattered how hard I ran myself ragged. How much I pushed every last muscle in my body, how exhausted and drained my joints were. I wouldn’t allow myself to drift off to sleep.

  I would always wait.

  It was better that way.

  It wouldn’t take long until I felt him.

  It. Never. Did.

  “Baby…” I heard him whisper above me, the scent of strong liquor immediately assaulting my senses. “Baby, I miss you so much…”

  I pretended I wasn’t there. I hummed Swan Lake in my head, getting lost in the symmetry and rhythm of the gentle lull of my movements. Reciting every last step in my mind. Picturing I’m the prima ballerina for some huge ballet company.

  I didn’t hear him call me my mother’s name.

  I didn’t listen to him telling me he loved her.

  I didn’t pay any mind to the fact that he thought I was her.

  My mother.

  I just lost myself in my own thoughts, where it was safe, where I was loved, where no one could hurt me.

  When he touched me. When I felt his hands all over my skin, clawing, invading, molesting. When I smelled his breath all over my face. Attacking every last fiber of my being.

  I fall.

  Over and over again.

  I go into a dark place within myself, hiding in the black corners of my mind.

  Waiting.

  I could feel myself drifting, fading into nothing. Broken in two. A cold remnant of the littl
e girl I once was. A figment of the innocence I used to have, turning into dust. I didn't exist anymore and I was nothing.

  I wanted to scream.

  I wanted to cry.

  I wanted to fight him off.

  I did none of those things. Nothing. I laid there, and took it. I let myself get used, played with as if I was nothing but his toy. Because in the end it didn't matter, the damage had already been done. Again and again for the past year. The first time he did it, he told me, promised me it would never happen again. Then, there he was, in my bed a few months later. Days became weeks, and weeks became months.

  Now I'm alone with the monster almost daily.

  Except I once used to call him…

  My stepdad.

  “Ve por ella, Esteban,” I ordered, “Go get her, Esteban.”

  The sound of my voice echoed through the large, damp, concrete basement of the building I lived in. Esteban and I stood in the dead center of the open space, with my men waiting in the surrounding corners.

  His intense, heated glare went from me, to the man who was knocked the fuck out in front of us. He was showcasing all my handy work, beaten within an inch of his life. Silver duct tape sealed his mouth and eyes shut, blood dripped down his bruised, mangled face. His arms tied behind his back, and his legs strapped to the steel chair he was sitting on. A plastic visqueen lined the area beneath him. His head was draped over like he was dead, but the motherfucker was still alive.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? She’s sound asleep in her bed,” he responded, not moving an inch.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my authority? Because I strongly suggest you fucking listen, and go get my niece. Unless you want to end up like this fucker.” I kicked the chair, causing the man to stir.

  It was Briggs’ fifteenth birthday at midnight, and I had brought her a little something to celebrate. She was the guest of honor, and the show couldn’t start without her.

  After years, I finally got the motherfucker.

  A few nights prior to today’s events, I came home late from a business trip, not bothering to let Daisy know I had returned, I never did. I headed straight to my office to tie up some loose ends since I’d been away a few days. I shut the door behind me and switched on the video feed from the cameras I had all over the penthouse. Wanting to make sure things were continuing to run as smooth as always during my absence. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see Esteban and Daisy on the couch, watching a movie together. He was ordered to never let her out of his sight, so he was around her all the time as her bodyguard.