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“Of course, I do, Valentina, you’ve been hit, you have bruises,” he said and turned to me again. He was standing over me, over the couch, and our gazes were locked.
“Then why aren’t we talking about it?” I said, in a quiet embarrassed voice. He took in a deep breath.
“Why are you back here? I didn’t think you would ever come back,” he said, and I licked my lips. His voice had risen now, and he sounded angry about something.
“That was the Muerte Viviente who had you, weren’t they? Why would they hold captive the daughter of their own leader? Are they punishing you for running away? For being with me?” Jesus had stepped away from me, running his hands over his face in frustration. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was rage dripping from his voice.
I stood up from the couch to reach for him, but he took a step away from me.
“You shouldn’t have come back here, Valentina…it isn’t safe for you. Why have you come back here?” he growled, and I could feel my nostrils flaring. I couldn’t believe he was mad at me for coming back, while my soul was melting because I had seen him again.
Jesus glared at me with his jaws clenched.
“What do you want, Valentina? Why are you here?” he repeated the same questions as we glared at each other. He was blaming me for being kidnapped!
“Papi is sick. He’s going to die soon. I wanted to see him before he did!” I screeched, losing control of myself. How could he blame me for this? “I didn’t come back for you, Jesus!” I added for good measure, and I watched as that grimace on his face drooped, and his eyes became wider.
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“What’s happened to him?” Jesus asked, taking a step towards me again. I was surprised that he even wanted to know after everything Papi had done to him. Then I realized that it was me he was concerned for, not my father.
“I’m not sure. He wrote me a letter a few weeks ago. Something about his heart,” I replied, and Jesus took in a deep breath.
“So, he found you,” he said gruffly, and I didn’t respond.
“Was it a ploy to trick you into coming back? So that he could hold you prisoner?” he asked, gritting his teeth again.
“No, this wasn’t him, Jesus…Papi would never do that to me, no matter what I’ve done. He isn’t the leader of Muerte Viviente any longer since he fell sick. He owes them money,” I said, rushing towards him, but stopping in the nick of time, just inches away from his body. I wanted to be in his arms again; I wanted the warmth of our bodies to mingle, I wanted to feel his breath on my face. He was so strong and powerful and safe, but Jesus was angry. He still couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened to me. He still blamed Papi.
“So, they kidnapped you as vengeance?” he asked, in a quieter voice now and I nodded my head.
“Papi doesn’t even know I’m back; he doesn’t know that I was kidnapped. Please, Jesus, believe me, he might have been cruel and ruthless towards you, and the other boys when you were younger, but he would never do something like this to me,” I cried, and our eyes met. I was holding his gaze forcefully, hoping that he would believe me.
Jesus glared at me for a few moments longer, and then his eyes grew softer.
“Where have you been all these days, Valentina? I left you alone all these years because I wanted you to be safe. I didn’t want to lead the Muerte Viviente to you,” he said, and I could feel my lips trembling. He suddenly looked gentle, almost sad.
“In Connecticut, I trained to be a teacher…I’ve been safe, Jesus. But I had to see him, one last time. I didn’t know that the gang would be waiting for me at the airport. I had no idea what Papi has gotten himself into,” I said.
There was still a distance of a few inches between us, but I could feel his warmth and I was certain that he could hear my heart beating too.
Jesus stretched a hand towards my face, his fingers grazed the bandaged bruises on my face, on my neck, and I pressed my eyes closed. Nobody could touch me like him. Even after all these years of being apart, nobody could make me feel the way he did.
“I have you now, Valentina, you’re safe with me,” he said, and my eyes flew open. He was watching me, and I felt naked under his stare. Suddenly, my body was filled with jealousy. I didn’t want to imagine how many other women he had touched like this. But I was his first; he was mine…we would at least always have that.
“I know I am,” I replied and he lunged at me. Our lips met, and I threw my arms around his neck. Jesus’ hands found my waist, and he lifted me up. My legs instinctually wrapped around his waist as he carried me towards one of the walls of his living room.
His kiss was hungry and powerful. His tongue parted my lips and thrust into my mouth, possessing me all over again. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My back pressed against the cold wall while he explored my mouth. With my legs wrapped around his waist, I could feel my pussy pressing against his throbbing erect cock. Our clothes separated us, but I knew how much he wanted me. I couldn’t wait to feel his bare skin under my fingertips.
When Jesus drew his lips away from me, we stared into each other’s eyes. His were dark and dangerous. I could see in them what he wanted to do to me.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, Valentina,” he growled as he ran his mouth over my face, over my neck and to the top of my breasts. The back of my head pressed against the wall as I enjoyed the thrill of his tongue on my body. It was scorching hot, leaving a blazing trail of wetness on my skin.
With his teeth, he tugged at my top, while his hands held me in position against the wall. I felt feather light in his arms. Jesus was a grown man now, not the teenager he used to be, and I could see that he was going to fuck me like a man too.
I moaned in his arms while his hands traveled down to the buttons on my jeans. I gasped when he undid them.
“Do you want this?” he asked, breaking his mouth away from my body, looking up at me with fiery expectant eyes.
