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I’m lying.
“And you’ve had plenty of sex, it seems,” he murmurs against my throat, but his tone is softer by a fraction, though no less unsettling. “Not many women would let a stranger ride them bareback. Even those in my so-called harem blanche at doing so the first time.”
“It felt good,” I hear myself blurt. Who the hell is that whore of a woman? Someone unashamed by her need for him. This act has gone too far already. I’m starting to scare myself.
Hopefully, my supposed eagerness will only accelerate my eventual goal of letting him bore of me before it gets too late. Men hate women who seem to fall too fast. They love a challenge. Risk. My fake version of Tiena doesn’t present one. She’s too damn easy, writhing on his lap from his touch alone.
But faking is one thing. Genuine pleasure is another matter entirely, and I am not able to conceal it. As it drips from me, he relishes the aftermath, teasing the dampening flesh at his mercy. When he switches from the calloused tip of the finger to what can only be a nail, the pinching graze is sinful.
I choke, squirming on his knee.
“You’re saying I felt good?” Jaguar’s mouth is at my ear again, and another sharp pain alludes to what he does next—bite my earlobe hard enough to make me jump. “Are you sure about that? I will admit you put on a different show than most. No screaming. No moans. No praises that I’m too big.”
And he is, but I’m horrified to admit I didn’t mind it. Not when he let me set the pace.
“You fail when it comes to faking it, Lupe,” he concludes in disapproval. “I didn’t feel magic when I came inside of you. I felt a woman who has never felt a real fucking in her goddamn life.”
He isn’t wrong.Dios mío,he isn’t.
But then why is he still angry? Furious, even. I can taste his rage, and it alone should leave me in a quivering heap, cringing for his first blow. Instead, I arch my back and focus again on how strangely satisfying he feels.
I need to convince him to maintain my ruse, but I feel as though I’m on the precipice of a more dangerous venture. There is a risk of going too far, of saying too much.
Then he thrusts those fingers hard and fast, and I lose all sense of logical reasoning. “Speak,” he grates.
“You weren’t what I expected,” I tell him, gasping for air. “Not what I wanted—”
“Oh?” He laughs a second time, and I don’t know whether it’s fear I feel shooting through me or something far worse. “Did my magic dick not please little Lupe after all?”
He wants me to say yes. It seems he feeds on the prospect of rejection. Not because he loves a good chase, but because it would support his conclusions about me.
That I’m an enemy, someone he can’t trust.
It’s harder than it should be to angle my head to meet his stare. The smirk on his face has never been wider than it is now. The second our gazes meet, it falls, however. A strange tension comes over him next, hardening the line of his mouth.
Once again, I’m in dangerous territory, and for the life of me, I can’t decide which action to take. Pedro didn’t foresee this encounter, and I have no script to fall back on.
So, I tell him the truth.
“I’ve dealt with countless men like you,” I confess—though most of those men could be found in just one, Diego. He could be both lover, teacher. Tormentor, too. Judge, jury, and executioner. All in one. Then there is Braulio and those in his vicinity. So yes, technically, it isn’t a lie. “None of them ever made me feel…”
Raw.He slides his fingers out of me and jams them back in. The sensation makes my head reel. I lose my train of thought, and I don’t have the sense of mind to make my words pretty to flatter him.
“You gave me a taste of power,” I blurt out. “I want more.”
“More.” He chuckles. Whatever I said wasn’t exactly what he expected—it’s better. I’ve pleased him though he won’t admit it. He shows it by stroking me a fraction softer. Then he pairs the gentleness with force by spreading those two fingers apart, stretching me around him. “Telling me that you like it slow? I’m sure you moan that line to all your lovers.”
And maybe I have in the past, but none of those pleas were ever heeded. I don’t tell him that, though. I let him put the pieces together on his own. Even hearing him throw those words back in my face does something to me. My body feels hotter. The pressure inside me grows. I feel like a tire with too much air inside, one wrong move from bursting altogether.
“I told you that if you wanted me, you would have me,” I croak. “All of me.”
And apparently, it wasn’t good enough for him. I could live with that. I can’t fathom the effect he seems to have on me without even trying.
I’m seconds away from coming undone, and he’s only used his damn fingers. After surviving Diego, I learned to trust my one remaining shred of self-preservation, and it is telling me to run far and fast away from this man.
“But you’re right,” I say, bracing my hands against the massive body beneath me. Working myself off him is like surfacing after minutes spent underwater, a hairsbreadth from drowning. “You have access to plenty of women, all better trained than I am.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Lupe. My harem women are never this wet.”
