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CHAPTER26
A light came on and Antonio woke with a start, only to find himself still chained to a wall in the doctor’s office. Lounging in one of the torture chairs was Imelda, as if she had no idea what the chair was used for. As if she hadn’t participated herself, under the guise of “stretching” the girls so they wouldn’t hurt later. He had vivid recollections of Imelda and those chairs, and she sat in one, as if waiting for something fun to happen.
Looking at him curiously.
He wanted to vomit.
“Look at the Lobo Gris. How far he’s fallen.” She managed to look graceful, getting off the chair in her impossibly high heels. “At my mercy.”
Antonio’s head lolled to the side, and he saw Katie stirring next to him. He wished he could reach her, hold her hand.
If only to comfort himself.
His mouth was parched, his stomach rolling over and clenching at nothing. His skin was coated in sweat. His pulse beat rapidly and his mind spun.
Imelda stalked over to him. There was no other word for it. She’d been trying to get him into her bed since day one, had succeeded once, but Antonio had refused her since that one time. It had been a mistake. She was El Cuchillo’s wife, she was too dominant, and he could see what would happen if she got her claws further into him.
Like now, she straddled him, grinding down on his limp dick. Sex was the furthest thing from his mind since he was captive to a bunch of murderers and chained to a wall.
“What happened, Lobo? We were good together.” She pouted as she writhed on him. Her hands reached for her top, tugging it down to free her breasts.
They did nothing for him. Even when she tugged at her nipples, tweaking and pulling them. All he saw were distorted globs of fat. He closed his eyes, willing her to stop.
He felt her dip down, moving down his body, across the filthy floor, tugging at his zipper.
Really? She was stooping to crawling around on this dirt floor, covered in bodily fluids, to give him a blow job?
Her hot mouth on his dick did more than he wanted. But his dick clearly had a mind of its own. He moaned, a pathetic sound that begged her to stop, but words wouldn’t form.
He didn’t want this.
His muscles didn’t work. He couldn’t even rattle the chains. Everything was jelly, except his fucking dick as she sucked it.
“Stop,” he slurred. She moaned eagerly against him, ignoring his protest.
“Imelda!” El Cuchillo’s voice stopped her. Thank fuck.
Immediately, his dick wilted like the rest of him. His head lolled to see El Cuchillo standing in the doorway, knife in hand, looking pissed.
“Go to your room. You’re finished here.”
She smirked at Antonio as she stuffed her tits back into her shirt before turning to her husband with a pout.
“Fine. You can blow him then.”
She left his dick out. Great.
Lolling his head to the side again, he saw Katie, eyes wide. Had she seen all that?
“You were my favorite. I don’t know what happened with you. You were so good at this.”
His eyes were still on Katie, who looked at them blankly, her head swiveling back and forth between him and El Cuchillo, not understanding their words.
“Me enamoré.” He said it simply, in Spanish, hoping she understood. She stared at him, her eyes wide. So he repeated in English. “I fell in love.”
“You were going to leave me? Tell the authorities?”
“I was going to drop her off at the embassy. She’s too good for me. She doesn’t deserve any of this. She’s an innocent. I wasn’t turning you in.”
