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In retrospect, I thought enduring him would be the hard part—but it’s this. Knowing that my body can derive some twisted sense of satisfaction from impersonal fucking. I must be more tainted by Diego’s violence than I realized.
How pathetic is that? Even a stranger can get me off as long as he allows me a fraction of control. Unashamed, I feed off every measured thrust, and a steady, persistent heat floods my body, making my toes curl with the force of it.
But then, he picks up the pace.
“You like it slow,” he says into my ear. “But I like ithard, chica. Like this.”
He combines both methods, and the result makes me gasp out loud.
It’s too good.
Scary good.
It terrifies me to admit that I could get used to this—which is so damn sad. How little it takes to satisfy someone broken like me. Just communication. The illusion of control. The pretense of power.
A taste of equality.
My body trembles as a feeling so alien that it takes me a moment to name it hits me all at once. An orgasm.
My legs go numb, and I cling to him as all the air leaves my lungs. I eye the ceiling struggling to remember the reason I’m here. Not for Jaguar. Not even for sex.
I need to convince this man that I’m his. That only I have what he needs—at least in exchange for what, in essence, would be mere child’s play for him.
But to cement that ticket, I need to do something. Say something. Pedro told me the exact words, but meeting Jaguar’s gaze now, I can’t think of them. So, I ad lib.
“This is better than if you shared me,” I tell him. “It will always be better between us this way.”
“Will it?” His expression falls, and those eyes close up, leaving me with a sensation akin to whiplash.
“Lupita with the magic pussy.” He shoves me off him and wrestles himself back into his pants. “I think it’s time for you to go, sweetheart.” His sly grin returns with chilling intensity, and my heart stutters. I’ve done something wrong. “Thank you for the quickie.”
An overwhelming sense of disappointment sweeps through me. My first impulse is to resist. Argue. Get angry.
Instead, I nod, smoothing my skirt into place. “Thank you. Is it too much trouble to ask for a ride? If not, I have a friend I could call.”
Please, give me a ride.It’s my one hope that all of this hasn’t been a total waste.Trust Pedro,I chant, my internal mantra.Follow his plan.
Jaguar chuckles to himself. “It seems my driver is busy tonight. I guess you’ll have to find your own way.”
Don’t show you’re insulted.
Nodding again, I walk into the hall. With every step, I feel his seed run down my thigh. He didn’t use a condom, though I have a birth control implant, at least. That doesn’t calm the voice in my head warning me that I’ve been so stupid. Reckless.
Foolish.
When I reach the first floor, I call a car service and linger in the foyer under the watchful eye of a stern-faced doorman. A gaggle of giggling women, dripping wet, wearing string bikinis skip down the hall. They pass me knowing glances before heading upstairs, no doubt to wait on their master hand and foot.
Focus, Lupita.
When my car arrives, I leave, and thus is a rather anticlimactic ending to my night.
But my mental turmoil is just beginning.
Stupid! Stupid!
The second I’m out of view of the mansion, I call Pedro, fighting back tears.
“Pita?” He sounds tired, his voice hushed. “You’re still alive, at least. That must account for something.”
