AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I made it,” she whispered, a little breathless.
“You’re very talented,” he whispered back, licking a line up her neck.
She shivered and laughed enticingly. “I have more talents than that.”
“Oh? I have no doubt of that, belleza.” He snuck a hand under the hem of her skirt and was delightfully surprised to find nothing there. “And no bloomers,” he praised, running the edge of a finger along the underside of her ass. He pushed his thumb against the very edge of her cleft and felt the wetness there.
“I didn’t want to get more of them dirty. I only have two other pairs,” she told him while he made circles with his thumb right at her entrance. “Oh, that feels nice.” She let out a sweet little squeal.
“My dick will feel even nicer,” he told her hotly, biting her earlobe. “What do they look like? Your bloomers. Are they pretty and lacy?” he asked, spearing her cunt with one finger, pulling out a lusty hum from her. “I bet they smell like this pretty pussy.” He dragged his fingers out of her and stuck them in his mouth. She whimpered, watching him do it.
Fuck, he wanted to drive into her heat like an animal.
“I have them here.” For a moment he didn’t quite know what she meant, but then he remembered the small bundle of clothes in her hand. “I didn’t have much space in my trunk, and I had pieces and dresses I wanted to bring with me.”
That last part brought him out of his lust fog and reminded him there were a few things he wanted to know about Rosalía. He didn’t let go of her immediately, wanting to keep that soft, luscious body against him for a moment longer. Before pulling away he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck. “Let’s go get your things sorted.”
She let out a shaky breath and moved unsteadily toward the small area serving as the galley. This was Butter’s domain, but it was empty now that breakfast had been served. They only had two meals a day: one in the morning and another in the late afternoon just before the sun went down. Butter wouldn’t come down here for a few hours, hopefully with some fish caught on the line he always kept hanging from the ship.
“Did you eat breakfast?” Enzo asked as he uncovered a barrel, then scooped out some water and poured it in a basin for her. He’d been working on the damned inventory of the Hippodrome’s rum practically since he woke up and didn’t catch if she’d been served any.
She nodded while she watched him work. She’d squeezed herself into a corner on a countertop. He could smell her sex from five feet away, and he was dying to get on his knees and worship her. But that would come later.
“Did you leave any family behind?” he asked with his eyes focused on the bit of borax he was pouring into the water.
“Not really,” she said evasively. He turned to look at her. Her eyes were downcast, and he could see a slight tremor coursing through her. She seemed spooked. His protective instinct rose to the surface as he watched her reactions. He would be damned if he allowed Cam to leave her to her own devices in Nassau. He extended his hands for the clothes, and she responded by clutching them tighter. “I have my intimates in here.”
He lowered his eyes to the clothes and licked his lips. “I hope to become acquainted with those very soon, belleza.”
Her breath hitched at the open invitation in his words, and then she slowly handed him the clothes. The pile included the ugly trousers and jacket she’d worn last night. He recognized the large cotton button-down as one of Cam’s, and wrapped inside it were two satin and lace garments. He pressed the shirt to his nose and inhaled. The scent of tobacco and Cam’s sweat mingled with her sweet smell made Enzo painfully hard. He gave her a sideways glance as he picked up her bloomers and sniffed them next.
“Lace,” he observed approvingly.
She made a surprised little sound; then her lips stayed parted as he nosed the crotch and pressed the scratchy lace to his lips.
“That’s indecent,” she whispered, but she didn’t sound put off by his indecency if the way her breasts heaved was any indication.
“Everything I want to do to you is extremely indecent,” he informed her as he sent her another appreciative glance. He let his words simmer while he focused on submerging the clothes in the soapy water. When he was done, he closed the distance between them and braced his hands on either side of her, his fingers brushing her hips.
“Will you help me convince Cam to let me stay until Atlantic City?” she asked, her eyes wide and eager.
He wanted to, but he also knew his promises would not carry much weight. He had very little influence on what Camden chose to do. Enzo had been in his uncle’s world long enough to have learned to hide his weaknesses, but something about Rosalía made his tongue loose.
“Camden is a stubborn bastard, but I’ll talk to him again. It would help if he knew how you ended up in the hold of that yacht and not on a passenger ship.” The silk and lace of her undergarments told him she came from money or was at least connected to someone who had it. Big Joe’s hoods wouldn’t know Spanish lace from a paper bag, but Enzo had worked as a messenger boy for some of the ritziest ladies’ shops in Buenos Aires. Rosalía’s bloomers were made with the most expensive Sevillian lace money could buy. He eyed her as she gnawed her bottom lip, clearly unsure how much to reveal.
“I can’t go home,” she finally admitted in a small voice. Her eyes were downcast again, that same tremor in her jaw. Whatever crossed her mind made her shiver from fear. He recognized the hunched shoulders and defensive posture from his own childhood.
“Is it your husband?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Whatever she heard in his voice made her look up. Their eyes locked for a moment, and he felt recognition there. She shook her head in answer to his question, which was a minimal relief. Even if there was no angry husband out there, she was running from someone. Someone who terrified her.
On instinct he put a hand under her chin and made her look up at him. “Dime, Rosalía,” he urged. “Quiero ayudarte.”
“My brother, Santo,” she finally confessed. “He’s always scared me, but since my father died six months ago…” She pulled away from his touch, her eyes unseeing as she stared over his shoulder. “I became a prisoner in my house. I couldn’t go anywhere without a bodyguard. And the way my brother looked at me sometimes was disgusting. Made me sick to my stomach.” Her throat moved, like she was fighting tears, and Enzo felt cold menace rise in him on her behalf. His own stomach roiled at the thought of that bastard lusting after his own sister.
“My father had agreed he’d take me to New York when I turned twenty-one. He has a friend there, Antonio Mesa, who had a successful musical group. He offered to help me get settled, so my father agreed to let me try, but?—”
Her lip wobbled, and again that protective urge only his mother and sisters had ever inspired in him bubbled to the surface.
