Vice

by Callie Hart

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  INTELLECTUAL STIMULATION

  “He told you to teach me about America?”

  Natalia seems baffled. She stands three feet from me as we walk down the hallway together toward the library that is apparently located on the ground floor. She looks different today. She hasn’t been outside, scrambling through the forest, so she’s not covered in dirt and a thin sheen of perspiration. Her clothes are not what I would have expected, either: small black skirt that shows off the delicious curve of her ass, coupled with a dark blue strappy shirt made out of some floaty, see-through material that hints at the fact she might not be wearing a bra. Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders in thick, caramel waves, and she smells like flowers.

  I prod her in the side, just above her hipbone, winking. “Did you dress up for me, Natalia Villalobos?”

  She flushes bright red. Her blush travels down her neck, to the base of her throat, where it burns crimson. “No, of course not. I just wanted…” She’s flustered. Embarrassed. She sweeps her hair back behind her ears, looking down at the ground. “So what if I have?” she declares, changing tack. “Why is it so bad for me to want to look nice for you? For you to want me?” She speaks quietly, so she’s not heard, but there’s a certain amount of defiance in her tone now.

  I hold up one hand, grinning as I shake my head. “I’m not complaining.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” Her lilting accent slays me when she’s riled up like this. She’s fucking adorable.

  “I’m just letting you know that I’ve noticed,” I tell her.

  “Then you should tell me I look beautiful or something, not try to make me feel ashamed.”

  God. If I could take her in my arms and kiss her right now, I would. Since I can literally hear the electronic buzzing of the camera lenses following us as we walk past them, though, I don’t. I rub at the back of my neck, trying not to laugh instead. “You are beautiful, Natalia. You’re possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But then, I think that every time I see you. Even when your hair is all over the place and you’re covered in sweat. Even when you’re drenched to the bone, and you have mud all over your face.”

  She slows, blinking at me, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Are all men in America like you? Do you all know how to say the right thing at the right time?”

  I can’t hold back the laughter now. I just can’t. “I don’t think many American women would agree with that statement, no.”

  “So it’s just you, then?” She seems so innocent sometimes, like a child. In some ways, she is. She’s led such a sheltered life here, cut off from all social media, television, and other external influences. Then again, she has also been subjected to scenes of violence and death so horrific that it seems she should be aged well beyond her years.

  “Yes. Just me,” I say softly.

  Natalia guides me down the long corridor. The library is small, nowhere near as grand as I thought it would be. As soon as we walk through the door, I’m scanning the ceiling and the corners of the room, searching for surveillance. Natalia shakes her head imperceptibly as I go to sit down at a table close to one of the windows. “I don’t know where it is, but there is definitely a camera in here somewhere,” she says. Instead, she points me to a small table in the back of the room,

  “Damn. I was going to bend you over the table and fuck you senseless,” I whisper. “Something about books makes my dick hard.”

  Natalia looks scandalized. She sits down at the table, fidgeting in her seat, trying to get comfortable, but I can tell she’s thinking about what I just said and she can’t get the thought out of her mind. “My grandfather used to bring me to the library all the time,” she says. “He taught me French and Portuguese here. Among other things.”

  I sit down opposite her. I have to fidget a little myself in order to get comfortable. I wasn’t lying; there’s something about libraries that turns me on. I have no idea why, but my cock is getting harder by the second and there’s literally nothing I can do to prevent it. The cameras won’t pick up a bulge in my pants, though. It’s dark here, at the back of the room, thank god. Maybe that’s exactly why Natalia picked this spot instead of one of the other tables by the huge picture window on the far side of the room.

  Natalia’s legs are tangled up in mine, her right leg in between my own, her kneecap dangerously close to brushing up against my hard-on. I give her thigh a squeeze under the table. Fuck, her skin is so warm and smooth. It feels like silk beneath my fingertips. She tenses when I touch her, and looks around, as if she expects someone to be lurking behind one of the book stacks.

  “So what do you want to know about America?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Have you ever been to Philadelphia?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  She’s disappointed. I can tell from the look on her face. “Okay. Well, then. What can you tell me about the people from your country?”

  “You meet Americans every day,” I say quietly, angling my head in the direction of the party room. “I think you know as much as you need to there.”

  “Are you saying that all Ecuadorian people are the same as my father?”

  She has a point. The people in the village of Orellana itself seemed like simple, happy people who lived clean, uncomplicated lives. I can’t imagine any of those happy-faced children I saw when I arrived growing up to be psychotic murderers, but then again you never know. “Fair point,” I concede. I think for a moment, and then say, “Americans are just like citizens from other countries. There are good people, and bad. Smart people, and not so smart people. It’s just that the bad, not so smart people seem to have a way of ending up in power, or in the spotlight for some reason. Those are often the people representing the country. It can look like we’re all bad and all not so smart.”

  “You’re good,” Natalia tells me. “You’ve stayed here way too long, so I can’t comment on how smart you are, but I can see that you are a good man, Cade Preston.”

  I just look at her. “I have no idea why you would think that. I’ve done plenty of dark, fucked-up stuff that I’m not proud of.”

  “And why did you do them? For joy? For pleasure? Entertainment, perhaps? A good man will do necessary, evil things in order to help others, but he will not revel in his actions. A bad man will do the same necessary, evil things, and his heart will sing as he holds the knife, or pulls the trigger. See what I’m saying?”

  It’s not as simple as that, it never is, but I smile at her anyway. “Open your legs, Natalia.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me. Open your legs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked you to.”

  “Cade, we can’t. What if the camera is—”

  “Under the table? You think it’s under the table?”

  She shakes her head. “No, of course not.”

  “Then it won’t be able to see what I’m going to do, will it?” I reason.

  A second passes. Another three. Natalia is as still as stone while she thinks about my logic, and then she glances around, taking one last look, trying to find the camera she knows to be in here. She’s going to tell me no. She’s going to tell me not to be so fucking stupid. But then she opens her legs, sliding down in her seat, so that her knee finally does press up against my dick. I grunt, digging my fingers into her thigh. When I make eye contact with her, she looks a little startled.

  “You’re very hard, Mr. America.”

  I feign ignorance. “I am?” I still have my hand on her thigh. Moving my way upward, I don’t stop until my fingers are brushing the bottom of her skirt. She gasps as I slide them underneath the material, up, up, up, until I’m as far as I can go. To an outsider, it must look like I’m simply leaning across the table. Natalia’s the only one that knows I’m brushing the tip of my middle finger up and down the soft, silky material of her panties.

  “Do it,” I whisper. “Open your legs all the way for me,
Natalia. I need to make you come.” A shiver runs through her—one I can plainly see. The bare skin on her arms breaks out in goose bumps, despite the heat of the library.

  “It’s a bad idea,” she says breathlessly. “What if someone finds us?”

  “Then they’ll see that we’re talking and hopefully leave us the fuck alone.”

  “Cade.” Her willpower is dissolving, though. I can feel the muscles in her thighs relaxing ever so slightly, every time I rub my finger over her clit through her panties.

  “It’ll be worth it. I want to make you lose your fucking mind,” I whisper.

  “I’m already losing my fucking mind.” She closes her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, her head begins to tip back.

  “Stay with me. Look at me. You need to keep your eyes on me, Natalia. If someone does come in and you look like that, they’re definitely going to know what’s going on.”

  She rolls her head back around, opening her eyes, but they have a glazed over quality to them, filled with lust, and I don’t think she’s focusing on much. “God, I…” She trails off, and I can feel how wet she’s getting through her underwear. Beyond wet. I know that when she finally gives in, allowing her legs to fall open, I’ll be able to slide her panties to one side and feel the warm, slick heat of her all over my fingers, and it’s going to drive me fucking crazy.

  Applying a little more pressure, I rub my finger in a small circle, knowing exactly what she likes. Every woman is different, and Natalia prefers a firm touch. I know by the way her hips angle upward as I sweep my finger from left to right. I don’t have to wait much longer for her to give me what I want. Her knees part, and I push forward, hooking my finger beneath her underwear, and then I’m swearing under my breath as I find out exactly how turned on she is.

  “Fuck, Natalia. Tell me not to fuck you right here,” I growl.

  “I want you to,” she whispers. “I need you inside me so badly. Please.”

  This is just her desire talking, though. We both know it’s impossible for me to take what I want…to give her what she just told me she needs. “Grind against me,” I command. “I want to feel your pussy on my fingers.”

  Her lips part, and her back arches as she angles her hips again, rocking her pelvis so that she’s working with me to create a delicious friction between my hand and her clit.

  “Shit,” she hisses, trying to close her eyes again. I was raised in a household, where, for right or wrong, a woman does not curse. I’ve spent many years with women in the military and in the club, and I’ve heard plenty of them swear like sailors, language colorful enough to make the air turn blue, but when Natalia utters this exclamation, a thrill of excitement powers through me. Her accent makes it hotter somehow, and her choice of word makes it seem as though she’s out of control. So hot. So intense. So fucking wild.

  I want a repeat of our last encounter. I want to get her so wet, to free her from her inhibitions, and I want to be the one to claim her during that moment when the world falls away and nothing remains for her but her climax and the sound of her own heart slamming in her ears. Here, though, in this library, with its book stacks, and its deserted tables, and the tall, sweeping windows, overlooking Fernando’s prize fucking garden? It would be all the hotter in here, where we have no lock on the door and there’s a risk we might get caught.

  This is a perilous thought. It’s not fucking a girl without a rubber and hoping she doesn’t get pregnant. Or that your dick doesn’t fall off afterwards. The consequences of getting caught here, with my fingers inside Natalia Villalobos, are beyond any of that. It would be the difference between life and death. But what a way to fucking go…

  She rocks against my hand, working her hips, and I have to stop myself from sliding down from my seat and disappearing underneath the table, to use my tongue on her. It would be too much to taste her right now. Way, way, way too much. I’d lose my shit, and that would be it. Natalia would be laid out, flat on her back, in less than a heartbeat, and I’d be thrusting my dick inside her harder than she could probably bear.

  She’d pant. She’d beg. She’d moan. Most importantly, she would scream, and I just can’t allow that to happen. She whimpers now, as I apply a little more pressure to her clit as I rub, and I give her a warning with my eyes.

  “You can’t do that,” I tell her. “You’ve got to be a good girl. You’ve got to behave.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she pants. “Would you be able to keep quiet if I had your dick in my mouth?”

  I almost groan at the mere thought of it. She was so good the other night, letting me push myself all the way to the back of her throat. She’s right; I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet, either.

  “Come closer to me.” I shift around the table, sitting at the shorter end, and Natalia moves, too, drawing closer. “Lay your head on me. Bite down on my shoulder. Bite as hard as you need to. It’ll help when I make you come.”

  “Oh, you think you’re going to?” she asks, smiling wickedly.

  “You’re about three minutes away, beautiful. One hundred and eighty seconds away from total oblivion. Do you want it?”

  She closes her eyes, turning her face into me, leaning her forehead against my shoulder. She seems embarrassed to even admit to such a thing.

  “Natalia? Do you want it?”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “God, Cade. Please. I want it.”

  Yeah. That’s what I thought. I roll her clit under my fingers a little faster, using the pads of my index and my middle finger now. I’m stimulating her, rubbing more of her, causing her to shudder against me. She does as I told her to, and she bites down on my shoulder, her breath coming out in jagged, tense blasts.

  “God…three minutes is too long,” she pants. “Please, Cade… Please, please…” She begs me over and over again. I could stretch this out, make it last longer and give myself more of a show. It’s so fucking hot to see and hear her this turned on, her tits straining against the material of her shirt, her nipples obviously budded and swollen underneath her clothes. It would be far too cruel to do that to her, though. Not when she’s this pent up and ready to explode.

  “Okay, beautiful,” I tell her. “Okay. I’ve got what you want. Shhh.” Sitting forward, I roughly shove her legs even wider still underneath the table. Her skirt is up around her waist now, exposing her pussy, and it’s the sexiest, hottest thing I have ever fucking seen. I have to finish this now, before it gets any further out of control. I pull her as far back into her seat as I can, and then I rub my fingers quickly from side to side, making sure I’m firm enough to make her claw at me, hands grabbing at my arm, her teeth cutting into my skin though the material of my shirt, but not hard enough to hurt her.

  I’ve found the right rhythm and motion for her. Natalia is a ball of pent up energy as I drive her closer and closer toward the edge.

  It’s not long before her back is arching, her eyes screwing shut, and my fingers are suddenly soaking with her pleasure. She jolts every time I flick her clit, jumping and moaning, clearly very sensitive.

  I am one proud motherfucker. I’ve made plenty of girls come with my hands, my mouth, my dick, and any other body part you’d care to mention, but this time is different. When Natalia opens her eyes, looking up at me, dazed, her lips bruised-looking and swollen from her desire, her cheeks flushed bright red, I’m so fucking pleased with myself. I’m elated that I’ve made her feel this way.

  “I can’t feel my legs,” she whispers, grinning from ear to ear.

  I run my hand up and down the smooth skin of her thigh, grinning back at her. “Well I can. And they feel pretty fucking amazing.” Slowly, I raise my hand from underneath the table, and I slide my index finger into my mouth. Natalia watches me with a look of confusion on her face, until she suddenly realizes it’s one of the fingers I’ve been fucking her with, and she looks mortified.

  “Cade! Don’t!” She tries to stop me from sucking her come from my fingers, but I take hold of her wrist restraining
her with my other hand.

  “I’m not apologizing for this,” I tell her. “I’ll never fucking apologize for wanting to taste your pussy all over my hands. It’s the hottest thing ever.” I move onto my middle finger, savoring the moment, savoring the way my dick is throbbing, aching so badly now that I have her on my tongue.

  “You just wait, beautiful,” I say. “You just fucking wait. It won’t be long before we can enjoy each other’s bodies without holding back. It won’t be long before we can scream the fucking house down, I promise you that.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IN MOTION

  The last thing I want to do right now is get ready for a party. I didn’t bring smart clothes with me, and most of what I did bring was torn to shit by Harrison and his men. So a suit and tie? I highly doubt they have a tailor down on Orellana village, and I’m not all that great at producing designer clothes out of thin fucking air. I should have kept the suit I wore when I flew here from Mexico, but I didn’t know I’d be needing it again, and carrying it around in a backpack would have fucked it up anyway.

  I’ve made peace with the idea that I’m going to have to wear the casual clothes I’ve been wandering around the forest in for the past month, when I come back to my room and find a black garment bag laid out on my bed for me. I stand there and look at it for a while. I shouldn’t be surprised that Fernando thought of this. He asked me to help Harrison with security for the event, so he wants me looking my best, no doubt. I’d rail against this, make a point of wearing my ripped jeans and stained t-shirt just to be an asshole, but I need to blend in. If my plans are going to come to fruition, I need to disappear in a crowd. The rich bastards who have flocked to the Villalobos estate from far and wide are going to notice a guy in fucked-up civvies way more than they’ll notice another tall dude with designer stubble, in a designer suit, gliding around with a glass of champagne in his hand.