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My eyes roll. It’s sinful pressure, but nowhere near the force I’m used to. An ache begins in my core, spreading throughout my body until I’m shaking with need. God, I need him harder. Faster.
“Be patient,” he scolds as if reading my mind. “I need you throbbing for me, Lupe. I’ve imagined how you’d feel like this, with that magic tongue silenced. God damn, you feel like heaven.”
His grated cadence rips through me, and I whine. Forsaking his slow, steady motions, I arch into him, fucking myself on him, using his body to find the leverage I need.
A rumbling growl revs in his chest. “Fuck,” he snarls. Then he hooks an arm around my waist and snatches me into him.
I swallow the moan that bubbles up my throat. I choke down any other resulting cries of pleasure. This man is so damn cruel. So devious.
He makes me work for this pleasure, until I’m riding him, much like I did when he made me show him what it was like to fuck a man who loved me. This is different. There is no imaginary man to soften the blow.
Julian Domingas is the one inside me, rigid and hard as steel. His breath is what I feel on my throat, and his taste is on my tongue as he replaces his fingers with his lips. We kiss violently. Punishingly. It’s a silent rendition of the conversation we need to have.
Something loud and abrasive with shouting and filthy words. Sinful curses. Hateful things I might regret and dirty, wicked promises.
With every stabbing thrust of his tongue, he tells me all the lewd ways he wants to use my body. Where he wants to stick what. How easily he can debase me. How much he can make me enjoy what he does to me. How I’ll always beg him for more, even if I’m too proud to admit it.
And with what energy I can muster to match his intensity, I tell him a few things in return. How much I fear him. How much I truly hope his fantasy woman isn’t me. How some sick part of me doesn’t care about the logistics and wants to be that for him anyway.
His perfect little chica who’d happily tend to his brood. The woman he’d give his life to protect.
God, the man accused me of lying, but he’s a better one than I am.
He almost makes me want to believe him.
CHAPTERFIVE
When our senses return, and our breathing slows to normal, we do a dangerous thing. We linger. I can’t name exactly how it happens.
Maybe when he doesn’t rush to pull himself out of me, and I don’t eagerly try to evade his grasp? Pressed against the wall, my face in his hands, we share several, tentative breaths and eye each other. Perhaps the way two stray jaguars in the jungle might while trying to decide if the other is friend or foe.
Or dinner.
In the background, Franco happily and loudly plays his new video game. It seems Jaguar isn’t just skilled at manipulating fearful adults, but children with short attention spans. In any case, he knows exactly how to get what he wants.
And for the moment, he seems to want me.
His eyes darken as he recovers first, leaning in to whisper something barely audible into my ear. “We can take your pregnancy off the table for the time being,” he tells me while ghosting a hand along my belly to smooth my dress into place. “In the meantime, we must deal with the threat against you. As you like to point out, I am a very patient man. I can wait.”
“Mr. Jaguar?” Franco suddenly calls out, seemingly bored with playing alone. “Are you going to watch me? I’m going to beat the score!”
“Of course, you are,” Jaguar calls back with a smile. “Just give me a minute to get your mama settled. She’s been nagging me to show her the kitchen. See if you can beat my score by the time I get back.”
He takes my wrist and pulls me after him to the door. I stagger, still disoriented. God, I can feel him inside me, still dripping along my inner thigh.
I pray Franco doesn’t peek from the room as we pass it, and Jaguar hastens me up the stairs.
The kitchen is every bit as luxurious as the rest of the house. Jaguar releases me near a glistening center island while he washes his hands in a large double sink. With his back to me, I can’t gauge his reaction.
Do I even want to?
“There is something you haven’t been honest about with me, Lupe,” he says, speaking normally without fear of Franco overhearing. “I don’t know what it is yet, but you are not naturally inclined to lie. I’m beginning to see that. It makes you jumpy. Reckless. You are confident in your truth, but do you want to know the truly strange part? I can tell that what you’re hiding isn’t a threat to me. It’s not that you’re secretly working with Braulio against me or that you aim to steal my money and flee. It’s personal to you. A secret that isn’t particularly dangerous, but exposing it would make you vulnerable to me in a way you’ve calculated isn’t worth the risk. You think I’ll use it against you.”
Do I think that? No, not entirely. My past can be used against him, though. Diego is out there waiting for me, and I’m not in a hurry to face him just yet. Not unless I’m provoked to.
“You think I’ll tie you down and torture the truth from you,” Jaguar adds, his voice dangerously soft. He shakes out his hands and dries them on a nearby towel. “Maybe I would, were you any other woman. Someone who would easily back down at the sight of a whip or chains. But you? I think you’d relish in enduring my brutality, chica. You’d use it as an excuse to hide even more of yourself from me, and I won’t make it so easy for you. Oh no. I’ll play your game. Give you time to squirm and second-guess everything you say to me. We’ll make a thrilling time of it. Just when you think you’re ahead, I’ll come from behind and claim the victory I’m owed. You can bet your ass on that.”
I say nothing, too busy struggling to breathe.
