Damn lucky she was still alive.
He released her and shifted down her body. “I want the names of every man who raped you.”
For what reason? To avenge her?
Just like that, she was a wishful, simple-minded teenager again. Oh, that pathetic girl.
The cynical, realistic woman knew better. He simply wanted to know the state of her used-up pussy before he shoved his dick in it.
“Their names,” he said.
“Marco, Omar, Miguel, and Alejandro.” She turned her head, refusing to look at him.
The cartel brothers had been passing her between them for almost three years. They never fucked her at the same time, but they shared her, nonetheless.
John was so quiet she thought he would push her away with disgust. She waited, hoping he would. Concussion or not, she just wanted to sleep.
When she finally dared a sideways glance, he was ready with one of those ice-cold expressions.
“Hector’s sons kept you to themselves?”
“Until tonight.”
Maybe they were finally done with her. Maybe John was, too.
“Are you going to send me back to them?” she asked.
“Should I?”
“Don’t care.”
His jaw turned rigid. “You watched them butcher a girl.”
“Still don’t care.” She knew what she was getting with the cartel.
This guy had a mouth on him. Full, pillowed lips that would wrench ungodly screams until he wore her out. Screams of pain were one thing. They fueled her hatred and kept her focused. But she feared they would be screams of pleasure. Then she would only hate herself.
“Roll over.” He shifted lower, straddling her knees.
So we’re doing this.
Go directly to anal. Do not pass go.
Her stomach hardened. “I want tequila first.”
“No.” He smacked her thigh so hard it sent shock waves down her leg.
Was this a battle worth fighting? Unfortunately, no. Sex from behind was impersonal and would be a thousand times easier than looking this man in the eyes.
She flipped over gingerly and tried to relax her sphincter. There were worse things than being plowed in the ass.
Like watching a girl get her foot sawed off.
Tomas passed a tube of ointment to John, and she focused on her breathing. In. Out. In—
A lubed finger pressed against her rectum. “They fuck you here?”
“Every time.” She clenched, unbidden. “Use a condom.”
“I’m clean.”
“They’re not. Use a fucking condom.”
She didn’t have an STD, but she couldn’t trust John’s claim about himself. Not that he’d listen to her demand.
He adjusted his weight on the backs of her legs. A wet squirt belched from the tube, and she held her breath.
Make it hurt.
Make me want to gut you.
His hands came down on her buttocks, soft and sticky and warm. Oh, God. She tensed. Not from pain. No, his touch was pure heaven.
The sensual slide of palms, the hypnotic rhythm of his caress, and the sinful friction of skin on skin made her pulse sing and belly quiver.
Talented fingers kneaded her flesh, working antibiotic ointment—not lube—into her welts. Trickles of bliss crept up from her toes, melting her joints and turning her bones to sludge.
She’d never had a massage but imagined this one exceeded every touch ever set upon the human body. She felt heavy, hot, and under attack. He lay siege to her senses, wrecking her ability to think as his hands parted ways, dividing and conquering the length of her.
His touch was everywhere, gliding over curves and wrapping around achy muscles. Each caress imparted authority, ordering her flesh to heat, commanding her nerve endings to dance, and teaching her body to crave.
He knew where to stroke her, how much pressure to use, and precisely which spots would make her sigh. And sigh she did, open-mouthed and collecting drool. Never had she felt this relaxed.
Until he lowered his head and curled his tongue along her spine.
“What are you doing?” Her blood spun hot at the shocking, wet caress along her back.
The sensation couldn’t have been produced by his mouth. She twisted her neck to see behind her, and holy fuck. His firm lips were right there, his kiss gliding up her backbone.
From the moment he’d flipped her to her stomach, she hadn’t anticipated anything remotely pleasurable nor half as sensual as the swirling possession of his hands and tongue.
Fear was always a glaring partner when she was alone with the brothers. But never arousal. Never this.
This destructively alluring man made her want more than a hurry-up-and-finish encounter. She wanted hours of him doing this. Touching, kissing, hungering… She didn’t want him to stop.
What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn’t accept this. Not from a slave-buying rapist.
“Stop that.” She tried to jerk free. “Don’t touch me.”
His teeth clamped down, holding her in place as effectively as his intimidating gaze.
With her chin to her shoulder, she stared back, scrambling to find footing in the stellar depths of his eyes. “Quit toying with me, and just do what you’re going to do.”
He licked her bitten skin defiantly. “I’m responsible for the care and feeding of my woman.”
“I’m not your woman, and unless I’m mistaken, you’re feeding yourself.”
“You’re mine for a week, and tonight, I eat first.”
He trailed his lips toward the curves of her ass, just as seductively as before, staring down at her nudity with those long thick lashes fanning over his cheeks. Then he glanced up, delivered another diabolical sweep of his tongue, and looked pointedly at Tomas.
His bodyguard nodded and paced off toward the door. When he opened it, he didn’t leave and instead took up a watchful position on the threshold.
What was happening?
John returned to his torture, sucking, tonguing, and nipping her backside. The delicious incursion pulled her insides this way and that. She thrashed beneath his greedy mouth, gasping at the overload of stimulation.
No one had ever taken time to warm up her body. It had been so long since she’d experienced anything akin to foreplay she’d forgotten it was even a thing people did.
The worst part? She was enjoying it. Allowing it to happen. Imagining other parts of her that would tingle and heat beneath his lips. Would he find her as hot and wet, as lush and needy as his wicked mouth?
Not possible. She didn’t get wet. Not anymore.
His affection was so fucking wrong it was cruel.
With renewed clarity, she met his gaze. He rolled his tongue, and her stomach seized up.
“Enough!” She exploded out of her skin.
Twisting to her back, she let her fist fly. Missed his face by an inch. Swung a left hook. Missed that one, too. Fuck!
“You’re off-balance, Gina.” He wrapped a hand around her neck and easily immobilized her.
“Release me!” She writhed on her back, kicking uselessly as he settled between her legs.
The pressure on her throat tightened. Dots blurred her vision, and she clawed frantically at his arms, his hands.
“You’re only hurting yourself.” He loosened his grip just enough to allow breath. “Surrender.”
“Never!” She coughed, gulping for air.