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And while I won’t take her innocence tonight, I’ll satiate this hunger we’re both drowning in.
“Fun for me.” Another huff from Sol, and from the corner of my eyes I see those supple thighs clench as the car slows at a light. “But by all means, don’t stop begging, Preciosa. I enjoy it.”
“Is that so?” She shifts in her seat toward me and I turn my head, matching her raised brow. “Why?”
“In due time.”
“Please,” my little flower begs so prettily, her pouty lower lip jutting out, and I smirk. She’s nothing like I thought she’d be, or how she seemed that night back at the rooftop bar. Back there, Solimar was shy and a bit nervous—afraid, but the more we’re together, the more I see the woman behind the title of first daughter come forward. This woman wants to live. To fully experience life without barriers or rules, to be herself. And while I find myself drawn to her natural sweetness—this goodness that radiates from her every pore—she’s just as equally hungry for my darkness. To find her balance. “Pretty please, Mr. Lucas.”
So dangerous, I muse while scratching my jaw. “One clue. That’s all you get.” Solimar opens her mouth to protest, but I hold a finger up as the light turns green. “Patience, and you’ll get your reward.”
She giggles. “Maybe you should take me back.”
“Maybe you need to be taught a lesson in patience.” The SUV with my security stops at a four-way crossroad a few minutes later, and I take the opportunity to teach my flower two things: I say when, and two, I own her.
“But, Alejandro...of fuck,” she moans as my hand grips the back of her neck, my hold tight, and I bring her closer. Right to where those beautiful lips belong, against mine. Her exhale is my inhale. Her body is mine to take.
“Even the way you curse is innocent.” Miss Quintero’s eyes close, and her sweet breath fans across my lips; I lick them, and by proximity, hers. It’s a small taste. A decadent violation of my senses and I take her mouth, slanting my lips over hers as she mewls from the back of her throat. This kiss is hungry and rough, tongues twining and hands caressing; her body’s angled across the center console as she grips the lapels of my tuxedo jacket. Her tongue is small and soft, lapping at mine—she’s fighting for a dominance I’ll never hand over, and I love it. I love the challenge she presents at every turn.
And to prove my point, I slow the kiss to a few soft pecks. She whines. “Want more.”
“That word coming from your lips should be illegal.”
“What word?” Her lips are swollen and eyes heavy-lidded. “Maybe I’ll say it again if you tell me.”
“Behave, little flower.”
“But—” I place a finger over her lips and shake my head. My men have pulled slightly off to the side and step out in what is normal protocol. Solimar notices this and pouts, not liking when I release her and much less when I nod for her to sit back. However, she does what I ask and looks toward my men carrying out orders they know by memory.
And while they pause traffic, rifles pointing at cars in every direction but mine at the four-way stop, I take that moment to enjoy her. She fidgets under my scrutiny but doesn’t ask questions, something that I know her mierda father instilled in her from an early age.
You don’t ask. You don’t see. You don’t repeat.
The road is cleared for my caravan to move through a minute later, but I don’t change gears. I’m too busy taking in her reaction. Admiring the swell of her breasts as her breathing hitches once more.
Not in fear. No.
The two little perfect tips poking through the soft satin fabric are enough of a tell. Even if she doesn’t acknowledge it yet, my life excites her. The fact I’m the complete opposite of her forced fiancé makes her fidget in her seat.
I’ve noticed how her thighs clench.
How her lips part, tongue peeking out while I throb behind the zipper of my slacks.
I’m not hiding who I am. I’m not pretending to be anything but the man people fear.
Car doors close and those with me wait for my signal to drive.
“Do you trust me to take care of you, Preciosa? To not let anyone hurt you?”
“I do.”
“And will you let me handle everything from here on out?”
“I do, but I have some questions that need answers.”
“Good girl. Always ask questions,” I say and take her hand in mine, laying them atop my lap. “Now, let’s head home. We’ll finish this conversation in bed.”
“In bed?” Head cocked to the side, she raises a brow. “Won’t that be a distraction?”
