Sympathy For Diablo (Breathless Eternity #1)

by S. E. Chardou

  I looked over at Angie and Damien who were so wrapped in each other that I knew I could break away before they noticed I was gone. He never reached us because I met him almost halfway. I’d felt like I’d run a marathon my heart knocked against my chest with such ferocity. I wasn’t ashamed of my sexuality but I’d certainly learned a lot about myself since being here on vacation. I wasn’t worried about having a fling and what my friends would think. If I did succumb to sex with a stranger, it would be on my terms.

  It was my body, my desires and what I truly wanted.

  The dark side seemed way too tempting to back out now and with the look of lust in Diablo’s blue eyes, I knew there was no turning back even if I had the sudden nerve to do so. He had me—lock, stock and barreled—before he even touched me to brush my hair away from my ear and whisper, “Come with me.”

  My clutch was already in my hand so I nodded in acquiescence and we walked out of the backstage area without anyone even noticing. He was all business as we made it down the hallway, handing a passing roadie the bottle of Grey Goose and continued until we reached a door that led outside.

  The evening was cooler than I thought it would be but I didn’t have to worry for long once I saw a limo was waiting for us. The chauffeur waited with the back door opened. Diablo helped me inside before he followed me inside, and the door was shut behind us with resounding finality.

  I got comfortable as we sat across from one another in the limousine. It took off into the dark night, unimpeded by the traffic leaving Stade de France and soon, we were on the highway, heading back towards the city of Paris. I wasn’t tongue-tied but my words were slow to form simply because I was enjoying the music. Diablo had great taste.

  The Weeknd’s Trilogy album played and it was by far one of my favorites. “The Morning” played, and its seductive beat lulled me into looking out the window every now and then but we spent most of the time with our eyes on each other. Those gorgeous sky blue depths studied me and I couldn’t help but stare back. He truly was a vision in his dark rinse jeans—not too tight to see the outline of his dick but definitely not loose enough for his underwear to be showing, if he was wearing any at all. Other than that, he had on a white silk shirt, the first few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to reveal several of the tattoos on his arms.

  I was hardly a tattoo virgin myself. Other than a watercolor butterfly tattoo I had as a “Tramp Stamp,” I also had the phrase, “Teaghlaigh Honor Fola,” on my right shoulder blade. It meant “Blood Honor Family” in Gaelic.

  It was a Carter family tradition since there were so many of us in Boston. We could spot our relatives by the tattoo. Hell, even my dad and Caleb had the tattoo on their bodies in not so subtle places.

  My mother was furious when she’d seen I’d “defiled” my body yet again but my father understood. Not everyone on the paternal side—the Carter side—of my family were honorable as my dad. However no matter what side of the law a Carter happened to be on, loyalty prevented them—us—from ever turning our backs on each other.

  He’d chosen to stay on the right side of the law if only to protect his older brother—his “Irish Twin”—from doing hard time for being involved with a biker gang. My cousin was also in a band and although I didn’t advertise that Lennon “Linx” Carter of Winter’s Regret was my first cousin, I could always depend on him to be there for me through thick and thin.

  Despite my cousin—and Linx’s sister, Trinity—doing both my tattoos, my mother still hated that certain form of self-expression. It was one of the reasons why I’d earned a vacation to France. She’d quietly told me she’d rather I have numerous one-night stands—as long as I was careful—rather than taint my body with any more tattoos. I agreed reluctantly and the rest was history.

  I hadn’t even slept with one man since I’d been in France but I had a feeling tonight with Diablo was about to change that fact.

  My eyes wandered to him again as “Wicked Games” began to play. I wondered about whether I was a home wrecker. Everyone knew about his on-again/off-again relationship with Sorsha MacKintosh and I suddenly felt the need to know whether they were a couple before we got down to business.

  “You look at me like that and I know you have something to say.” Diablo unwrapped a bottle of Cristal and popped the top before he grabbed two fluted champagne glasses and filled them each before setting the bottle back in its bucket of ice.

  I accepted my flute and drank it down with an unladylike fervor. “That was good . . . though I’m not really a ‘champagne girl’ per se.” I laughed out loud. “Much to my mother’s chagrin.”

  Diablo laughed wickedly as The Weeknd crooned in our ears about a lover he wanted while abandoning another. “Cristal isn’t merely champagne. That’s like saying a supermodel is only a model.”

  I smiled in return as I grabbed the bottle and refilled my flute. “True.” I swigged from my glass this time. “I just want to know if I’m entering some sort of ‘Sad Girl’ situation. I’m not cut out for being a bad bitch or a mistress on the side if you know what I mean.”

  “I see you’re quite the Lana Del Rey fan—”

  “Among other artists. I also like the man we’re listening to right now.”

  “Ah, le Weeknd—he’s fucking brilliant, isn’t he?”

  My eyebrows bunched together. “Actually, he’s known as The Weeknd, not just Weeknd.”

  “Really? I met him at a Grammy after party last year and he had no problem being addressed as Weeknd or le Weeknd but thank you for the clarification.”

  “He should be a huge fucking star.” I sipped on my champagne again. “I think he will be with the right material. He’s just so beautifully eloquent and rejoices in the debauched state of humanity—our generation’s The Doors merged with Jimi Hendrix and a touch of Michael Jackson perhaps?”

  “What’s the real question you want to ask yet you keep tip-toeing around it, Sierra?” Diablo inquired as he refilled his own fluted glass.

  “You already know.” I bit my bottom lip slightly before I met his blue eyes again. “I’m not into breaking up relationships, whether they be content or not. I need to know whether you are still with Sorsha before we close escrow.”

  “Mmm, what a very strange American phrase—close escrow? What does that mean?”

  “It’s a real estate term but I’m not using it in that way. You know what I mean: do the horizontal shuffle, fuck, screw, make the beast with two backs, do it, consummate our union—whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I don’t shoplift dick.”

  “To steal means you have to truly belong to someone—mind, body and soul—in the first place. I am afraid that has never been an issue in any of my past relationships.” Diablo sighed and looked out the window. “But to sate your curiosity, I will let you know that Sorsha and I are no longer together. I ended it this afternoon when I realized I could no longer continue being with her sexually. I never really liked her that much and I decided I’d had enough of trying to make the relationship work when it clearly wasn’t—on either of our parts. Relationships are very much like clothing—they either fit or they don’t. There is no such thing as compromise to appease another. You hurt the person, and you hurt yourself for not going after what it is you truly want in the process.”

  I stared at him for a long time, my eyes drinking in the contours of his perfect face and the dangerous persona I knew lived his behind those angelic features. He might have looked like an angel with his blond hair styled to rock star perfection, that gorgeous lightly tanned skin and those bluer than blue eyes but I knew the truth as soon as a smirk eased its way onto his perfectly shaped lips. He was anything but innocent.

  “That’s good to know,” I said with a voice that sounded unlike my own. I swigged from my champagne again before a small smile played upon my lips. “I thought you said this would be a small gathering at your apartment. If that is the case then where are the other guests?”

  Diablo drained his fluted glass and dumped it ne
xt to the empty Cristal bottle. “Change of plans. I decided I didn’t want them to hear you when you screamed out my name in ecstasy. I must warn you beforehand I can be quite the voracious lover. And I promise you I won’t allow you to leave until you can barely walk . . . and every step is a remembrance of how I thoroughly satisfied you tonight.”

  Something about the deepness of his voice sent a shock straight to my abdomen. The place where I could almost feel him entering me and pleasuring me beyond any spoken words could describe. It had been too long and I was like a bitch in heat, ready to have him fuck me into oblivion.

  The deep blush I expected to warm my cheeks due to my naughty thoughts never arose and something deep inside me whispered about how I’d been waiting for this moment.

  The right guy.

  The right opportunity.

  The right fucking scenario to bring me to my knees and reveal the true me.

  Before now, I’d always been the good girl, the one to be counted on to drive my drunken friends home because I would be sober. The type to date the preppy guy because that’s what was expected. The one to lay back in missionary position, and accept my lover’s thrusts inside of me even if I didn’t feel the tiniest of sparks from our sexual activity.

  To this day, I still didn’t understand the big deal about sex and why my friends pursued it so relentlessly. I’d never met a man who could set my world on fire with passion or ignite even the most fleeting of orgasms inside of me. The only orgasms I’d experienced had been with my trustful Rabbit sex toy, and with various vibrators but never with a man.

  There were times I thought I was bisexual or maybe even a lesbian because the thoughts that got me off weren’t me and a sexy guy but other decadent scenarios I would never ever partake in due to what was expected of me by my family. However, I was tired of living for someone else and ready to be my own person and live for myself.

  If not now, when?

  “You’ve been very quiet. Have I frightened you?” The warm breath alerted me that Diablo had changed seats and was now beside me, too close for comfort but I liked where he was seated. It sent a vicarious thrill of pleasure through my body.

  “No. I’m just thinking about my previous sexual experiences and not even the act itself caused my body to respond this way,” I replied in a small voice.

  He pressed a button that immediately rolled up the partition between the driver and us. “Shall I give you a little sample of what I have in store for us tonight?”

  His body alone radiated heat and a predatory feeling of ownership, and lust I was barely prepared for but it caused me to breathe deeply. His lips, pressed against my neck, felt electric as he rained kisses down the column and along my collarbone. I didn’t know what to expect as my breathing quickened to a heightened state and I was aware of everything yet this whole scenario also felt like a delicious dream sequence I would awaken from at any time.

  Diablo left the seat and pulled the bottom half of my body down closer to the edge of the seat. As he knelt on the floor, his hands rode up the classy couture dress I was wearing, and slid down the lacey pair of hipsters I was wearing beneath the delicate fabric.

  Despite my inactivity in the sexual realm lately other than with my sex toys, my vagina was up to par with a landing strip courtesy of a Brazilian wax I maintained with due diligence. It had more to do with me looking good in a bikini than anything else but it was times like this I thanked God for my almost borderline OCD hygienic practices.

  “Ah, une femme après mon cœur,” Diablo murmured as he took in the sight of what was between my legs.

  I wasn’t a woman after his heart in reality but as his greedy fingers parted my lips open and suckled on my labia, I began to wish that statement were in fact true. I closed my eyes half-mast as I watched his tongue part me and aim directly for my clit. It wasn’t even fully engorged but once he tongued it and French-kissed that nub like he would do the lips on face, my breathing accelerated and every part of what was between my legs felt like he’d started an inferno inside me only he could quench.

  I sighed with trepidation thinking he would pull away at any moment but as his mouth made love to me, I could only run my fingers through his silky hair to keep him in place. So this is what the fuss was all about when a man knew how to pleasure a woman.

  I found my hips bucking on their own accord and he merely responded by inserting two of his fingers inside me. They felt foreign and not necessarily welcomed though I was wet enough until they curled and met with that elusive place I thought was a myth: the G-spot.

  Diablo had me moaning and completely lost in my own desire as he continued to suck hard on my clit with his mouth while his fingers fucked me slow and steady. I didn’t know what was worse. The feeling of being so alive; I felt like I would soon experience le petit mort at the hands of a man for the first time. Or because I allowed a man who—by all intentions and purposes was a stranger—to pleasure me in my most private area as if we were old lovers instead of new acquaintances—either instance could have been justifiable to me.

  My body knew no bounds of time or space; all it knew was it wanted to get off, and that’s what drove me when I rode his fingers buried inside of me and bucked against his mouth against my clit—biting, teasing and begging me to succumb to him.

  I was so far gone, I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to but when he used the excess juices from my vagina to add a digit in my back passage, I finally lost all control of my senses and came right then and there.

  My heart thundered in my chest like wild horses but that didn’t stop his assault on my body, and though I wanted to pull away, he continued to tease me in both holes with controlled fingers while his mouth stayed zeroed in on my clit. I couldn’t take anymore. Once was enough but tell that to my aching body that was ready and primed to receive more of his punishing pleasure that had me on a rollercoaster of highs that I didn’t know was even possible.

  He had to stop. I had to make him stop but as my hips bucked, riding out the wave of the first orgasm, I could feel another one building.

  He added two fingers into the tight sphincter of my anus and three fingers inside of me, curling against my vaginal walls and my G-spot that quaked with satisfaction and greed to be allowed to make me lose control yet again.

  I knew I shouldn’t give in to him or my body but my brain was like the dense fog covering some backwater road and my body was the vehicle driving with brightened headlights. I wanted desperately to get away from this feeling of betrayal as my hips moved against his delectable mouth in a friction I didn’t completely understand but did it matter? He had me exactly where he wanted me and I was laid bare for him to ravish over and over again.

  Where I was prepared for my first orgasm, my second came out of nowhere and all the sudden, my body seized up and I tried to make a coherent sound but the only thing that left my mouth was a scream of passion as I succumbed yet again to the charms his fingers and mouth brought out of me.

  I felt completely spent and dizzy with desire by the time he removed his fingers from inside of me and readjusted my dress. He rinsed his fingers in the ice bucket the empty bottle of champagne languished in before he dried them with a cloth napkin and threw it to the side.

  Diablo sat next to me and I climbed on his lap as his hands possessed the sides of my face and brought me into a soul searing kiss that had me tasting the musky flavor of my own cum juice on his tongue. This was no ordinary kiss but one where I almost felt like we were stealing pieces of one another’s soul yet neither of us wanted to stop because it felt too good to surrender to these out of control emotions.

  I felt like a wanton Aphrodite to his virile Adonis and nothing inside me could stop me from wanting him as much as he wanted me. I felt the hardness of his manhood beneath me and my only thought was how was he supposed to fit inside of me? I’d never been with a man who had such length and girth. It would take a hell of a lot lubricant—my own and the artificial kind—to allow me to be fucked by him.


  One of my hands wandered down behind my back to feel his length and he moaned into my mouth before we separated reluctantly.

  “I’ve never . . .” I trailed off.

  “Don’t be intimidated by my size, chérie. I have yet to break a woman in half, and you’re enough to hold on to that I don’t see my track record changing now. We’ll take it slow and I’ll have you so wet, you’ll beg me to fuck you with every inch of my long, thick cock.”

  I didn’t doubt his words as he pulled me into another kiss that seemed to steal my breath yet every time our tongues danced along one another’s, I forgot the need to breathe. It was a damn shame a man could command my mouth so completely and brutally that he allowed me to almost forget about one of the most basic components of being a human being.

  Everything about him was addictive beyond anything I could have possibly imagined but I knew right then and there I couldn’t turn back, not even if I wanted to.

  FUCK ME TWICE and die.

  I’d never expected her to be so receptive to my charms though I knew I possessed more than I deserved. I wasn’t trying to be arrogant but this wasn’t my first time around the block. Women were so easily seduced, especially when they were unused to being with a man who knew what he was doing.

  I might have been born in an outlaw MC club that didn’t give a shit about society’s norms but that didn’t mean I didn’t know what to do in the bedroom. I held on tight and firm to Sierra as she catnapped in my arms. There was absolutely no way she could be worn out yet when all I’d given her was a couple orgasms with my tongue.

  My cock ached to be inside her but I was a patient man, and could wait. As she lay on my chest¸ my arm wrapped tight around her waist, I sent a group text to my band members and Damien.

  Me: Sorry, no after party at my place tonight. I’m having a private party of my own and the guest list is only for two.

  I quickly pressed send so I wouldn’t have anyone show up while I was giving Sierra the time of her life. I readjusted my dick in my jeans and prayed I would be able to hold out until we arrived to my apartment. It was hard as Japanese arithmetic and seemed to weigh more than when I was soft.