Corrupt

by Elena M. Reyes

  Leaning down, I take a nipple between my lips and flick it twice. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  Her hooded eyes are on mine as I pull out and hold just the tip inside. “Your choice, Preciosa. Soft and sweet or rough and demanding.”

  “I just want you. Nothing but you.”

  “I love you.” The last syllable hasn’t passed through my lips when I slam back inside, causing her body to seize. “Even when I fuck you, we’re still making love. Everything we do comes from that emotion, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt how I feel for you. You’re my world.”

  “And I’ll always choose you.”

  The wind around us picks up. It moves a stray piece of hair across her sweat-slick forehead, and I push it aside with my lips while my hips never pause in their search for completion. I ride her hard and without mercy, pounding her pretty little pussy with wild abandon while the trees and flowers around us sway gently with the breeze.

  It’s the perfect backdrop: beauty and her savage.

  My eyes squeeze shut, and I pull back as another rush of heat envelopes my cock. Her wetness runs down my shaft and onto my balls that are heavy with come. My body is strung tight as she clenches—her walls fluttering in the most agonizingly beautiful cadence around my girth.

  Grey eyes watch me from beneath long lashes before following the path down to where we’re connected. I follow her line of sight, and a growl builds in my chest. “Son of a bitch.”

  She’s so delicate compared to me. A sinful little doll.

  Mine to love. Mine to fuck.

  Gripping her hips, I raise her up and settle her ass on my thighs. The change in angle causes a shiver to run down her spine and limbs, for her walls to try and pull me in deeper. The tiny hole flexes, her walls massaging, and I groan, more so when I catch the smile on her face.

  It’s an innocent exploration.

  Following her natural inclination to torture me.

  “Behave,” I grit out and give her one quick stroke, the head of my cock hitting that special little spot that makes her cry out. Solimar doesn’t listen, though. Instead, she tightens and releases again and again. My response is to snap my hips forward and pull her at the same time down on my cock by the hold on her hips. I ride her hard for a few strokes—punishing the coquettish move.

  “Please don’t stop. That...I...fuck,” my Preciosa screams, fingernails digging into my arms pinning her in place. A light sheen of sweat decorates her skin as her brows furrow and lips part; she’s stunning in her pleasure. Takes my breath away in her pure trust.

  She’s offering her soul.

  She’s offering her life to me.

  “Say it again,” I grit out, picking up speed as I piston in and out of her. “I need to hear you say them.”

  “I choose you. Always.” It’s low and a little slurred, but I hear her. Those words are a balm to my soul and my balls grow heavy, my orgasm teasing at the corner of my senses.

  “Alejandro, I’m so close.”

  “I know, little flower...” Her grip on me is near painful and when she squeezes again, I grit my teeth. “Give it to me.”

  “I’m—”

  “Mine,” I groan, and she lets go. Wave after painful wave assaults her and when she whimpers my name on a prayer, I follow. “Christ, girl. You feel like heaven and taste of sin—perfection.” Hips stroking deep into her, I draw out every last drop of pleasure from our bodies. Slower now.

  No words are exchanged as our combined juices slip from inside her and the mess we created stains the blanket below. It’s still early enough that I take my time and enjoy her like this.

  No rush and wearing that post-orgasm glow that makes me want to start again. That causes me to twitch and her eyes to widen before a tiny smirk appears.

  Solimar has no idea how innocently teasing she is.

  “You’re dangerous.” The rebuttal is sitting on her tongue, but I silence her with a look, by cupping the back of her neck and laying over her from head to toe, and taking her lips in a kiss.

  We have a lot to discuss. To plan.

  I want her here with me always and will make that happen even if it means unleashing my wrath on her family sooner. I’ll kill them and marry her on the same day if that’s what it takes.

  She’s my home. My peace. My reward.

  I’ll kill anyone that tries to take her away.

  24

  “REMEMBER, ALEJANDRO. WHILE everyone gravitates toward the easy path, you follow the winding road. The more difficult a product is to cultivate, the more your buyers will pay; the exotic always equates to a higher-end crop. Stick to that motto, and you’ll go far.”

  Looking over at Don Andres, the largest poppy distributor in South America, I scratch my jaw. “Is that why you travel to Turkey and Costa Rica to bring back seeds? I’ve seen the shipments.”

  “I’m a man who likes to create, kid. My product can’t be duplicated because the extraction process with my machines creates a unique product that’s exclusive to me.” He claps me on the shoulder, his expression smug, and I turn my attention back toward his large field. Rows upon rows of poppies are growing and will be ready to harvest by the end of next month. Their reddish and purple hues make for a pretty picture—they seem harmless to the naked eye, but the reality is that their death toll continues to rise, and the price goes up. “Most in this business grow whatever they get their hands on and repeat the process through the use of their last cultivation; I don’t. I mix the two strains to create one that’s stronger…more attractive to the cartels in Mexico.”

  “What about selling to a bigger market?”

  “What do you have in mind, parce?” Don Andres is intrigued, body language at ease.

  “Pharmaceutical companies.”

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “There’s more profit in the legal route, Andres. More security with each transaction.”

  “And how do you know this? Can we trust—”

  “I know because I’ve done my homework.” His eyes narrow at my interruption, hands clenching, but he is smart enough to let me finish. Curiosity outweighs reprimand at the moment. “Because I met with an interested American company, and the contract on the table is very lucrative.”

  “Why would you do this without my knowledge?” Don Andres spits out, his hand moving toward the waistband of his jeans, but I’m quicker. The first bullet from my Glock embeds in his hand, blowing two fingers clean off, and his eyes widen in horror-filled pain.

  The second is to his chest.

  The third is to his knee, blowing the bone and forcing his body to the ground.

  Then, I stand over him, my eyes on his. “Your first mistake was hiring me. Your second was making a drunken pass at my mother.”

  “Alejandro, son…please don’t do this.”

  “Your last mistake was thinking I’d stay an errand boy, Patron.” The last bullet snaps his head back, bouncing off the ground as blood quickly pools beneath his body. He’s dead, and the tiny hole between his eyes makes me smile as those out in the field begin to clap.

  “Someone’s a little distracted this morning. You okay?” Sol says, bringing me back to the present as she wraps her arms around me and presses those sweet lips against the center of my back. She peppers kisses...

  Up and down. Left to right.

  And then finishes with a nip over my spine, which she licks. Naughty little thing.

  “I am.” A smile curls at my lips and my hand covers hers, just holding the warm flesh against mine. “How about you? Any soreness?”

  “No.”

  Turning my head, I look at her with a raised brow. “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Fair enough.” Bringing one of her hands up to my lips, I kiss each knuckle. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not yet, but I am content and at peace.” There’s a pause that follows her statement, a lingering quiet that’s n
ot uncomfortable or worrisome because I know what she’s experiencing. Those two states of mind are her gifts to me each time my girl is near. With her, I find my calm. I’m happy. “To be honest with you, Alejandro, I feel at home here. As if this were my everyday life and not some passing moment before reality sinks—”

  “Do you trust me, Miss Quintero?” I interrupted, keeping my voice low and even while reaching with my free hand for her hip and keeping her against me.

  “I do.” Her lips against my skin curve up into a smile. “Even though I shouldn’t.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you never give yourself completely to what can destroy you.”

  “Wise words, Preciosa...” with my grip on her side, I pull her around to stand in front of me “...but useless on me. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m in this for the long haul.”

  “Until we’re old and grey?” Fuck, she’s beautiful. No makeup and sleep rumpled, Solimar’s breathtaking while wearing nothing but a white sheet wrapped around her small frame. She’s the perfect backdrop to my morning, and nothing in the vast land behind her compares to the exquisiteness against me.

  We’re just a few yards away from the marijuana and poppy plantation on the back end of my Finca where a small cabin sits. It’s where I come to escape and be alone. Where I plan.

  The small, 3,000 square-foot property has everything you could need without the added distractions of the internet and apps. This place is quiet and relaxing, and it’s also where I devoured my queen’s pussy late into the morning hours before exhaustion took hold and Solimar passed out on me.

  And even then, I still kissed and licked her tender flesh until finding my release with her taste on my tongue and a few pumps of my hand. My hunger for her is insatiable, uncontrollable, and I chose to walk outside and let my mind wander while she slept.

  I’m a man of few words.

  I’m a planner.

  The man who I killed to dethrone had taught me to look past the conventional and seek what others fail to account for, and I know what’s coming. Can almost see each move being made while I sit back and wait.

  “Until my lungs expand for the last time and I begin my search for you in our next life.”

  “For someone who’s known as a criminal, you’re very romantic.”

  “Only with you. No one else sees this side of me.”

  “Thank you.” Her expression is soft, but the heat in her eyes shows appreciation for my bare chest and the tattoos that adorn my flesh. They lower—from my stare to my ink—and a blush stains her cheeks. “I’m very hot...happy...I—”

  “I’m up here.”

  “Shut up!” The little flower goes to smack my arm, but I wrap her in both of mine and pull us close before lifting so we’re chest to chest. Lips hovering. “This isn’t fair.”

  “Not for you.” I kiss her pout, biting the jutted-out lower lip, and pull back. “This is how I always want you.”

  “Manhandled?” There’s a bit of breathiness in her tone and once more she looks down toward the edge of my tattoo, licking her lips while following the bold black ink down to where her chest and mine touch. “Roughly taken?”

  “Close.”

  At that Sol looks up, caging my face between her two small hands. Her thumbs sweep across my jaw. “I can live with that.”

  “You have no choice.”

  “You sound very sure of yourself.”

  “Always.” Pecking her lips twice, I set her down and help tuck the corner of the bedsheet a little tighter. “Now, are you still not hungry?”

  “Not yet, but I definitely could use some coffee and...” She trails off then, her head turning around while her mouth drops open. “Wow.” She’s switching between the marijuana plants and my face, another venture I’ve taken on for personal reasons. “That’s a lot of weed, Alejandro.”

  A bark of laughter bubbles out and I throw my arm across her shoulders, tucking her into my side while we turn to fully face the field. She’s a breath of fresh air, and I love how her mind works. “That’s your first observation?”

  “It is a lot.”

  “Have you smoked before, beautiful?”

  Her grin is cheeky. “Maybe.”

  “Bad girl.” I try to make my expression stern while looking down at her, but the thought of Sol high, happy, and hungry is amusing. It also makes me wonder who popped that cherry under her father’s tight grip. “With whom?”

  “Laura bought it from some guy she knows out in—”

  “Enough said.” This shouldn’t surprise me either.

  The smile drops and her head tilts to the side. “Why did your tone just change? You don’t like her?”

  “I’m not a fan of anyone who hurts my girl.”

  “She doesn’t mean to. Not really.”

  “And yet, Laura continues to put you in dangerous predicaments. I know all about her and Signio, as does most of the country.” Shame flits across her expression before she schools her features into that monotone look that she’s perfected over the years. It pisses me off to watch her shoulders square and the way she takes in a deep inhale and then lets it out slowly; she’s going to excuse their behavior. “Don’t,” I grit out while stepping back and holding a hand up. “If you care about my sanity and their safety, just don’t.”

  “Alejandro, they’ve known each other a long time and—”

  “She owes you more loyalty than this, Solimar. Laura is selfish and manipulative.”

  “Don’t hurt her.” Her, not both and certainly not him.

  The sudden sound of a motor catches my attention, and I peck her lips once in answer. It’s not a promise or denial; I refuse to lie when I’d kill anyone who makes her so much as shed a tear. Whoever is driving, though, is getting closer, and no one sees her like this but me so I step back. That, and my men know better than to interrupt unless it’s dire—life or death.

  “Please head inside and wait for me there.”

  “Is something wrong?” In the blink of an eye, she’s gone from blissful to worried to near frantic, her face growing pale while she begins to wring her hands. “Do you think Dad knows I’m here?”

  “No one will harm you, Preciosa. Just give me a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” I can see on her face the need for answers but I appreciate the trust to handle it, and before she turns to head back inside, I pull her back against me with a hand on her nape. My grip is tight, and I angle her head back to take those sweet lips in a harsh and quick kiss that leaves her dazed when I pull back.

  “Thank you, pretty girl. I’ll be inside soon.” No sooner did she close the door than a familiar jeep pulls up and out jumps my brother and Daniel. A sinking feeling overtakes me, and I march across, grabbing Daniel by the neck before either utter a single syllable. “Why are you two here? The fuck is going on?”

  Emiliano places a hand on my shoulder, but that only causes my grip to tighten and for my friend’s face to redden. “Let him go, Alejandro. We need to talk.”

  “Then spit it out. Why are you here?”

  “Because she’s gone. Lourdes disappeared last night.”

  25

  HIS SCENT IS deliciously male, and it surrounds me—consumes me—while his muscular frame overpowers mine. He’s strong. Attentive to my every sound while forcing me to face the night’s sky; I can feel the way the muscles of his abdomen flex against my back. Feel the vibrations of a low rumble as it builds in his chest and then vibrates against my neck.

  He’s kissing the area just below the lobe, just a soft caress across my skin, but I feel it from the tip of my toes to the very last strand of hair on my head.

  I shouldn’t let him control me so easily, but my body isn’t complying with rationality. It’s boycotting my every instinct to protect myself and instead, leans back. Moves us closer so I can let his touch burn me.

  Consequences be damned.

  His hands skim down my thighs, bunching up my dress until he reaches the waistband of my panties. One t
ug and they rip, the thin lace of my thong slipping down to my mid-thigh. I’m exposed to the city below, but they can’t see me from his penthouse balcony.

  Calloused fingers skim across my hip and lower as he traces my mound and then clit, not stopping until my wetness coats the tip.

  “Motherfuck, Preciosa. I’m going to devour that sweet little—”

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I wake up with a gasp and a hand between my thighs, fingertips soaked with the effects of my dream and the yearning to feel him once more. My thighs tremble and heart races. My lips tingle and nipples harden.

  It’s been like this for a few days now—since I came back home after assuring him I’d be fine while he found his little sister.

  I can almost feel his touch—that dominating power he exudes by walking into a room—it’s surrounding me as the last dregs of my dream leave me near tears because I’m alone. Alone, and being watched by my father who keeps asking me questions that make me nervous.

  Where did Signio take me?

  Was it secluded?

  Was anyone else with us?

  Stretching my hands up, I turn my face and stare at the clock, seeing it’s almost ten. It’s the start of another day without him. Another round in this waiting game I’m left with no choice but to participate in.

  I can’t fault him, though. Not under the circumstances, because had someone I love gone missing, I’d move heaven and earth to find them.

  To save. To hug.

  Moreover, even in his absence, his reminders are everywhere...

  In my room.

  In this bed.

  In the nightly gifts Carlos delivers that set me ablaze with yearning.

  Last night’s box sent me back to four days ago when I slept in his arms. Nothing fancy or pretentious; a shirt—his shirt—that he wore to pick me up before stealing me away.

  It smelled of him.

  Of man and need and want. Of leather and earth and home.

  “Please come back,” I whisper low, throwing my covers off while reaching for my phone. The screen is full of notifications and I scroll through, stopping when I see four missed text messages.