by Callie Hart
No such luck, though. Another few feet, and Natalia reaches out, taking hold of a wooden handrail. She hops onto a narrow single plank walkway that’s affixed to the side of the tree, and then she’s turning and smiling at me. “My grandfather built this place for me when he was alive. He never told my father. It was our little secret. We used to come here together when he was still healthy enough to climb.” She hurries across the walkway and onto a large wooden platform, walled in on three sides, with one side left open. Most importantly, a roof covers the tiny tree house, shielding it from the worsening downpour.
The plank creaks loudly as I cross. Seems the walkway was designed to hold someone much smaller and lighter than myself, but it manages okay under my weight. It’s clear something non-human has been living in here; a pile of branches and leaves have been stashed in the corner, and there are pieces of mashed up, dried fruit scattered everywhere. Natalia sits herself down, hugging her knees to her chest. There’s probably enough room up here for three or four grown adults, but it’s definitely not a huge space. She looks around, smiling, as I sit down beside her.
“Well? What do you think? Watertight enough for you, Mr. America?”
I plant a hand against the closest wall, admiring how well built the structure is. Seriously, the place is solid. “I think it’ll do just fine,” I say. I shake my head, spraying her with water from my hair.
She shrieks, screening her face with her hands. “Stop! I’m wet enough already!”
“You can’t get any wetter. It’s too late. No point in trying to prevent something that’s already happened.”
She sobers a little, lowering her hands. “I could say the same to you, no?” She peers over the edge of the wooden platform, considering the drop. “It seems as though your purpose for being here is now over. Laura is gone. She is dead, and nothing can be done to change that. You can’t prevent that.”
“True.”
“Then go. I know I keep saying it, but you will only end up hurt or dead if you stay here. Laura wouldn’t want you sacrificing yourself now, for nothing.”
“It wouldn’t be for nothing. Yes, my initial reason for being here, to take her home, is impossible to fulfil. But I have a new purpose now. I’m determined to complete it before I even consider leaving Ecuador.”
Natalia rests her chin on her arms, which are folded around her legs. She looks down at the toes of her shoes, frowning. “Revenge is not a purpose, Cade. It is a poison. An addiction. A vice that cripples most men.”
I laugh under my breath, stabbing my fingernail into the waterlogged leather of my boots. “I’m afraid you’re wasting your breath. I’ve never been very good at curtailing my vices.”
“Maybe you should try harder.”
“Why would I do that? I like my vices.”
The idea of this seems to entertain her. “You like wanting to kill people? Do you think it will make you feel better once my father is dead? Do you think you will suddenly hurt less, miss Laura less, because you have ended his life?”
I’m silent for a second. There are plenty of things I could say in response to her question. I consider saying something about justice, that it’s not how it makes me feel afterwards that matters. That I’m just doing what I think is right, to balance the scales of right and wrong in the universe. I consider telling her that I’m planning on killing her father to prevent him from hurting any other innocent people in the future. I could say I’m plotting out Fernando’s downfall in order to help the people that are currently held captive in his house. But at the end of the day, none of these are the true reason for me remaining behind in Orellana.
“I do think it will make me feel better,” I say quietly. “He’s stolen something precious from me. My sister. Years of my life while I’ve been searching for her. My happiness. These things are all invaluable, I understand that. Nothing I could take from him with make up for what I’ve lost. But I know exactly how it will feel when I make Fernando beg for his life. I already know how sweet the vengeance is going to taste. It’ll blaze through me, righteous and all consuming, and for a moment I’ll feel vindicated. It won’t last long. As soon as I’ve seen the light flicker out in his eyes, and as soon as his body has gone cold, I know the hurt and the pain and the loss will return. But I need that moment of victory. I need to know that he’s paid the highest price imaginable for his sins. That’s all there is to it.”
Natalia closes her eyes, breathing out slowly. She sounds like she’s about to burst into tears.
“What is it? You don’t want him dead after all?”
“No. It’s not that. It’s just…my entire life, I’ve been surrounded by violent men. I’ve watched anger and hatred eating them alive on a daily basis. I think I’m beginning to lose hope.”
“Hope of what?”
She pauses. The sound of the rain hammers down on the tree house roof, stealing the silence for a second. “Hope that there are any kindhearted, gentle men left in the world,” she says. She speaks so quietly that I have to strain to hear her over the roar of the rain.
I don’t really know what to say to that. I’d love to tell her that I am capable of such a thing, of having a kind heart, but I don’t think that’s true anymore. I haven’t felt like that in a long time. Truthfully, I probably lost any soft edges I may have ever possessed long before Laura even went missing, back when I was in the military, scraping people off the desert floor. It’s easy to blame the turmoil of my soul on Laura’s disappearance, but it’s only partly responsible. I’ve been fucked up and angry for a very long time.
I do something I really shouldn’t. I reach and I stroke my hand over her wet hair. Her eyes are still closed, but she tenses even before I’ve touched her, as if she’s expecting me to do it. If there was any way for me to be a gentle man again, she would inspire it in me. “I’m sure there’s someone out there that fits the bill,” I tell her quietly. “The world’s a big place. And there are millions of guys who haven’t been jacked up by war, or drugs, or murder. All you have to do is find your way out of this forest, and you can have your pick of any of them.”
She smiles, and it’s a painfully sad smile. “But what if I don’t want my pick of them? What if I’ve already set my sights on someone else? Someone dangerous, who enjoys his vices a little too much?”
Oh, fuck.
I’ve felt the tension between us. I’ve been hyper sensitive to it, but I’ve been trying to ignore it, because Fernando’s a fucking psychopath. Natalia isn’t helping matters by insinuating things like this. Still, I’m concerned, but I’m also really fucking happy at the same time. “We all want things that aren’t good for us, Natalia. Sometimes the wanting is the fun part. It’s just the having part can be too damned dangerous sometimes.”
Finally, she opens her eyes. Beautiful dark cat’s eyes. “Are you saying I’m not worth the risk, Mr. America?”
She doesn’t get it. She thinks I’m worried about my safety, that I won’t chase after her because her father might come for me. I twist a piece of her hair around my finger, intrigued by how long, how soft, how silky it is. “I’m not afraid of Fernando, Natalia. Not for my own sake. But you…I worry about what he would do to you if he discovered something he didn’t like.”
She sits up a little straighter, angling her head to one side. “He’s ruled my life since I was old enough to walk. Shouldn’t I be allowed to make my own decisions by now? Take my own risks.” She smiles. “Have vices of my own?”
I can’t fucking help myself. I lean closer to her, doing my best to ignore my dick, which is demanding I take charge of this situation right now and fuck her senseless. “You want me to become your vice?” I whisper.
She watches me for a second, eyes wide open, and for the first time she really looks at me. None of this furtive sidelong glance bullshit. No looking away as soon as I turn and see her. She really looks at me, and she seems fascinated. She reaches up with her hand, just as slowly and carefully as I did when I stroked her hair, and she c
ups my face in her palm. Her hands are cold, but the contact feels like it’s burning into me. “No point in trying to prevent something that has already happened, right, Mr. America?”
I know with every bone in my body that I should back the fuck away right now—this can only end in pain and misery, after all—but the bone in my pants has other ideas. I can’t hold back anymore. Not with her looking at me like I’m some kind of goddamn miracle. And not with my blood charging around my body, filled with adrenalin, making me feel high and drunk all at the same time. I need her. I need to act now, before common sense prevails.
Rushing forward, I take hold of her neck in one hand and pull her to me, bringing my lips down on hers. Her mouth is fucking amazing, her lips so fucking unbelievably soft. I’ve kissed plenty of girls before, but none of those kisses have lit up the inside of my head like it’s filled with motherfucking C4 explosives. She feels so fucking small and vulnerable beneath my hands. I kiss her harder, guiding her lips open, and then I’m sliding my tongue into her mouth, past her teeth. She tastes so goddamn sweet, like cherries, and strawberry, and mint all mixed together. She sighs as I massage her tongue with my own, licking, laving and tasting her, exploring her mouth, and the sound of her moaning softly nearly catapults me into outer fucking space.
She’s shaking, her body trembling violently, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s soaking wet and the damp has penetrated down deep into her bones, or if it’s because the kiss is overtaking her and she can’t fucking breathe.
I should pull away and give her a second, but I don’t. I wrap my arms around her and I pull her to me, crushing her body against mine. She laces her arms around my neck, and then there’s no going back. I lift her into my lap, my hands on her waist, guiding her, and then she’s straddling me.
How the fuck did this happen? How did we end up here, when I’ve been on my best fucking behavior? It makes zero sense. Her mouth on mine makes sense, though. The feel of her tits crushed up against my chest. The way she arches, grinding her hips against mine, as I stack my hands on the small of her back. All of these things make perfect sense to me.
Natalia pulls back, breaking off the kiss. Her lips are parted, pouting and swollen from the fever of our kiss, and her eyes are burning with need. “Fuck me, Cade. Please. Don’t overanalyze. Don’t think about what will happen when the rain stops. Just give me what I need.”
I can’t say no to this woman. I don’t want to say no to her. In the back of my mind, I’m aware that I’m about to cartwheel head fucking first down a vertical slope, and I’m liable to break every bone in my body on the way down. There’s nothing to be done, though. No ripcord. No escape hatch. No eject button. There’s only Natalia, and the way she’s staring into my eyes, as though she can’t possibly look away.
“I’ll give you what you need. On one condition.”
Her fingernails dig into the back of my neck, pressing in just hard enough to send a frisson of pain ricocheting around my body. “Anything,” she whispers.
“You don’t let him touch you again. You hear me? You never let him touch you again? You fucking call for me, and I’ll be there. I’ll be there no matter what.”
Natalia blinks. Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. “Okay. I promise.”
I growl, grabbing hold of the bottom of her tank top. It peels from her body with ease and makes a wet slapping noise as I throw it over my shoulder. Natalia gasps as I bury my face into her cleavage, licking and biting at the swell of her tits. They’re glorious, seriously fucking glorious, and I haven’t even taken her bra off yet. She writhes against me as I slide my hand down, rubbing my fingers between her legs; her head kicks back, and she gasps, a look of surprise on her face.
“Oh god, Cade…”
The bra has got to fucking go. I rip the straps down over her shoulders, and then I’m pulling the cups of the plain black material down too, revealing the beautiful tanned skin of her breasts. Her freckles really are everywhere. I manage to rein myself in for a second, wanting to drink her in. She’s perfect. In the past I’ve been with women of all shapes and sizes, each beautiful and unique in their own way, but no one ever has or ever will compare to Natalia Villalobos without her shirt on. Her hair is still soaking, sticking to her skin, which is damp and hot. I gather her hair in my hands, taking hold of it in one hand, and then I pull gently, so she has to tip her head back. She has to curve her back in order to oblige me, which means her chest rises, her tits level with my mouth.
“Holy fuck,” I hiss. Her nipples are perfect, a delicate pink color that makes her seem fragile, though I already know that isn’t the case. Carefully, I use the tip of my tongue to flick and tease the bud of her right nipple, and I have to bite my fucking lip when she begins to shiver and shake on top of me. My cock is straining against my soaking wet jeans, demanding to be let free, but I’m not done yet. I want to play with her for a while first.
I release her long enough to fully remove her bra, and then my hands are all over her, palming and squeezing her tits, gripping her tightly at the waist, squeezing her ass through her jeans. She can feel how hard I am as I thrust up against her pussy. She must be able to. Every time I do it, her breath catches in her throat and she makes a sound of frustration mingled with intense pleasure.
“I’m going to take care of you,” I promise, growling into the skin just below her collarbone. “I’m going to make you come so hard all over my cock, Natalia. Are you ready? Are you ready for me to fuck you ’til you scream?”
She pants, grinding herself against me, and I know without a doubt that she is more than ready. I could strip her out of her pants right now and fuck her hard enough to bring this tree house down, and she wouldn’t complain. I can literally smell how turned on she is, and it’s enough to drive me insane. They say men and women are susceptible to each other’s pheromones, and right now this is science at its goddamn best. I can’t get enough of her. My hands can’t stop roaming crazily all over her body. She cries out as I unfasten her jeans and slide my hand past the wet fabric, only to find even more wet fabric underneath. This isn’t the same kind of wet, though. Not rainwater wet. More like, I-want-you-inside-me-right-fucking-now-look-how-fucking-ready-I-am kind of wet. It’s such a turn on.
In one swift movement, I pop up onto my knees, take hold of her, wrapping one arm around her body, and then I’m laying her out carefully on her back. I need to get her pants off, and I can’t do that if she’s straddling me.
“Tell me to take your pants off,” I growl.
“Take them—”
She doesn’t get to finish the sentence. I cut her off as I rip and tear at her clothes. I yank her shoes off one at a time, and then her jeans are gone, thrown into the corner of the tree house. Her plain black cotton panties are soaked through with her need. I drop down, pushing her legs apart, and then I’m sucking on the material, greedily licking at it, my head spinning with the taste and the smell of her. She’s incredible. She bucks and hisses as I rub my thumb over her clit, and I have to touch myself. I fucking have to. I pop open the button on my pants, pulling my jeans down over my hips so my hard-on can spring free.
I begin working my hand up and down the length of my cock, and it’s so close to being too much. I want to push myself inside her. I want to be balls deep in her pussy, while I finger her clit. I want to feel her tighten as she comes. I want to feel the wetness of her all over me. She looks like she’s so close to coming already—her eyes are closed, her lower lip fastened between her teeth, her chest rising and falling frantically.
“Open your eyes,” I command. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
She opens them, her pupils are so dilated they almost look like they’re blown. She fixes her gaze on my face, and I slowly shake my head, allowing a wicked smile to tease at the corners of my mouth. “Not there,” I tell her. “Look here.” I stop rubbing her pussy for a second to take hold of her by the chin, guiding her head until she’s looking down, at what I’m
doing to myself, at my hand stroking up and down my hard cock. Her eyes grow wide, and then even wider as I tug my sodden t-shirt over my head, disposing of it so that I’m practically naked, aside from my jeans, which are still shoved half way down my thighs. Natalia sees the curls of black ink creeping over my shoulders, and traces the lines of my tattoo with her fingertips. She can’t see the full back piece right now, but I can see that she’s intrigued. I’m hardly going to hit pause to explain about the Widow Makers right now, though.
“Are you ready?” I ask her.
“Yes. I want you. Please.”
I’m all too aware that this might be a nerve-wracking experience for her. I’m looking for signs that she’s not ready for this, that she’s scared or anxious in any way, but all I can see on her face is her desire. She reaches down in between her legs and tentatively touches herself, her eyes locked on mine. The tip of her tongue darts out of her mouth, wetting her lips, and I have to physically stop myself from throwing myself on her. My will power is getting a real workout right now. If I weren’t quite so in charge of my faculties, I might already be inside her, but I have a tight rein over myself. I’m all about the perfect moment. I won’t push my cock inside her until she’s panting, begging, frantic for me.
“Roll over onto your stomach,” I command.
Natalia hesitates for a second, and then flips over onto her stomach as I’ve asked her to. She looks back over her shoulder, and I can see the want in her eyes. I get the feeling this is an entirely new experience for her—to want someone with such a fierce intensity—and I think it scares her a little.
If I thought her ass was amazing in jeans, without them it’s fucking phenomenal. Her little black panties are cut high, exposing her flawless ass cheeks. My dick throbs like crazy in my hand as I study it. “On all fours,” I tell her. “Okay.” She leans back onto her knees, and I take hold of her panties by the elastic, pulling them down over her butt. She tries to help, wriggling her hips, but I gentle slap her ass cheek, tutting under my breath.
