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“Fuck,” he hissed, knotting a fist in my hair.
The harder he pulled, the more vigorously I sucked. It didn’t take long for him to take over and fuck my throat. I used every inch of my tongue, one hand to work his shaft, and the other to roll his balls.
I could barely see, my eyes were blurring so badly. My runny nose was taken care of by the water raining down around us, thankfully.
“So good, amada,” he praised, drilling in and out of my mouth.
He didn’t stop until his come was coating my taste buds and he had to force me to quit milking him for every extra little drop.
I smiled up at him, certain I looked like a disaster, but not really giving a damn.
He helped me stand, pushing my hair away from my face. He didn’t say anything, just looked at me the way only he ever could.
Stepping into him, I pressed my ear against his solid chest, right above where his heart beat. We stayed like that until the water ran cold, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
Chapter Fourteen
My mother wanted me dead.
That was my first thought bright and early in the morning.
I wasn’t sure why, seeing as the last time I saw her I’d been a little girl with unicorn barrettes in my hair. Then again, how much did logistics really matter? My mother wanted me twelve feet under; the reason wasn’t all that important.
I thought back to the day before and what I’d done.
My uncle—Samuel—was gone.
There wasn’t a point trying to be sad, and I didn’t regret what I’d done. In my humble opinion, he deserved nothing less.
As for Grams, well, she wasn’t a main priority. More like an afterthought.
Propping my chin in my hand, I looked around the bedroom, wondering what to do next. I glanced at the nightstand to check the time, and saw my box of ashes was missing.
“Goddamn him.” I shoved the comforter off with my legs and hopped out of bed. Snagging my robe off the footstool, I made my way into the hall, smoothing down my hair as I went.
Mateo had slipped away a few hours ago, so I wasn’t sure if he was even home. I decided to check the office first. He practically lived in there.
The doors were open and I heard the shuffling of papers before I reached the room, letting me know he was inside.
“What did you do with my sister?” I asked him, walking right in.
“Good morning to you, too,” he mused, looking away from the file folder spread out on his desk.
Making my way to one of the winged back chairs across from him, I took note of a pretty area rug that hadn’t been here before.
As I sat down, the wall behind him caught my attention. Hanging in a row were three framed customized cards. From left to right was the deep blue queen of diamonds, almost burgundy king of hearts, and an emerald green ace of spades.
“Your sister’s in the living room on the mantle,” he said.
I stared at the cards for another few seconds, and then settled my gaze back on him.
“On the mantle?”
“I moved her from the box to an urn.”
I blinked, finding that gesture unexpected, but oddly thoughtful.
“Why did you hate her?” I finally asked him.
