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He laughs, but there is no mirth in it. I jump when he steps forward. He has that predatory intent about him again. Like his Gatita on the prowl. A chase is what he wants.
But I’m not in the mood to give him one.
“I’m ready to face my punishment,” I tell him, squaring my chin. “Remind me as to what crimes I’m stood accused of?”
“Cute.” His smile widens as he advances another step, coming close enough to capture my chin against his palm. In a rough caress, his thumb teases my lower lip, back and forth. “I bet you repeat that same line to all thependejoswho make the mistake of letting you get too close. You pretend to be so eager for their violence?”
Eager, or excited. The same way one might feel after being sentenced to death. In what way has my captor decided to carry out my execution?
“I want something from you,” he tells me, continuing to stroke my jaw. “Before I take what I’m owed out of that pretty hide. I want you to answer one question for me, Lupe.”
“What?” My stomach flips. Could it be about my past and why I lied for so long?
“How far down that throat can you take me, chica?”
I nearly choke. Some primal part of me reacts to the challenge in his tone, and it’s surprisingly easy to form a response.
“As deep as you need me to,” I say, refusing to back down.
He steps back, a sly grin playing over his lips. “On your knees. Don’t think me sexist. It’s a bit of a prerequisite for this type of act.”
And it’s a way for him to put me in my place. I should play along, unwilling to provoke him. Instead, I stand.
“Given my knowledge of anatomy, I think you might enjoy it more if…” I reach for him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder to steer him toward the bed. As his eyes narrow, I rush to blurt out, “You sit, and I kneel before you. From this position, you’ll have a better view of how good I’m doing.”
To my shock, he does sit, spreading his legs wide enough for me to crouch between them. I don’t intend to waste this good fortune. I reach for the clasp of his pants, only to have him grasp my hand before I can make contact.
“We will do this your way,” he tells me, his voice a sinful rasp. God, I shiver at the way his eyes darken, and I’m close enough to notice the distinctive bulge straining the front of his slacks. Yet, he seems infuriatingly in control. Patient, even. Releasing my hand, he goads me in a rasping voice, “Take your time with me, Lupe. I want you to unwrap me like you would a present. Show me just how slow you can go.”
He’s taunting me, but some sick part of me isn’t insulted in the least. It wants me to take him up on the dare.
Explore him as I would a gift. My fingers shake as I reach for the clasp of his pants with renewed importance. I go slow, fingering an ebony button before sliding it free. Then I drag the loosened material down his hips as he shifts to aid me. Beneath a pair of boxers, his cock springs free, and my breath catches.
It seems unfair for a man who is so dangerous to have such blatant appeal. His attractiveness is yet another weapon in his arsenal, just as devastating as the power he wields to keep his men in line. He aims to control me. Dominate. Subdue.
And I’m tempted to let him.
Viewing him like this makes me hungry for something I can’t name. Greedy in a way I’ve never been. It makes me reckless.
Enough that I eye him through my lashes and whisper, “Tell me what my throat could do to you that other parts of me can’t.”
He rakes his fingers through my hair, smoothing the strands from my face.
“You should taste the man who owns you, Lupe,” he says in a voice that makes my belly quake. “Familiarize yourself with every nuance. Every flavor. I’m the only man who should have that right.”
I exhale raggedly. God, he can make something I’d always considered demeaning sound…powerful.
I start to lower my head, unsure of how exactly to approach him. Just use my mouth?
“Wait.” He chuckles, continuing to smooth my hair. An unexpectedly hard tug yanks my face up to meet his gaze. “Wait… I want you to look at me. With every inch you can take down that delicate throat. I want to see you.”
My head swims at his raspy tone. Maybe I’m just that eager to prove him wrong, but I don’t hesitate. I coil my fingers around him, squeezing gently.
“Take me harder than that,” Jaguar growls. “I’m not a fragile piece of glass, Lupe. Grip me.”
I grasp him tighter. Then I lower my mouth to his tip and engulf it.
“Sí, like that.” He groans, tipping his head back, all without loosening his grip on my hair. He uses the leverage on my skull to guide me lower, urging me to take more of him. More.
