“Butterflies?”
“Sí. The girl was on a hillside near the Sierra Maestra, where she found the statue. The villagers took it as a sign that La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre wanted to be there. In the field with the mariposas. The detective shared enough with the media to paint me as El Santo. The title stuck, though their profiles were baseless and meant as a message to me.”
“But how would you know the detective personally intended—”
“Because I do, Angelica!”
Her eyes bite shut. She takes a tapered breath. “El Santo, you’ve been transparent with me. Does that mean—”
I place my index finger over her lips. “We’ve become amigos, gordita. So, I’ll share. I was a surveillance tech for the Miami PD.” I glance over my shoulder at the milky hue of Carlotta.
“Since we’re friends,” she begins, measuring the pace of her words. “Will you let me go? Is my release still contingent on your relationship with LeAnna?”
I frame her cheeks. “You were so round, so soft when we met, Angelica Garces. Though you’ll never be an ángel, I’m fond of you, mami. I’ll keep you forever.” I search her over for any sign of rebellion. After a beat, I’m satisfied with Angelica’s show of appreciation.
“But the butterflies? El Santo, if the detective’s theory was incorrect. Why use them? I’m . . . curious.”
I give her soft cheeks a few slaps. “Another reason why you will live. I, for one, rather to save than murder. The butterflies have everything to do with the transformation of my ángel.” Though Angelica is waiting for the remainder of my statement, I silently contemplate how I save them because I failed Alejandra.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Dominic
“Dominic,” Aria groans in a seductively low tone. “I can’t be in trouble. I’m still half-sleep. Matter of fact, you’re depriving me of this right now.” She nudges her head in my direction.
Beneath the sheets, I peel the panties off her hips. “You’ve been fucked in your dreams. By whom?”
She giggles.
I nudge my nose against thick, slick pussy lips, then grate my teeth over her clit. “By whom, mami?”
Aria pushes the sheets down. I look up from her thighs and then bite down at the soft curve of her hip.
“You,” she chortles.
“You sure?”
“Yes, Dom. My pussy belongs to you, baby.”
My index finger twirls around her cunt curls as she smiles down at me. “Aye, I don’t remember fucking you in your dreams.”
“Ha! It was Dream Dominic, and I should warn, I thought you were the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Dream Dom is a Cuban god with a mouth—outta this world. By all means, prove me wrong,” she teases, winding her hips so that I catch the sweetest, addictive scent.
My drug of choice is an inch away. I’d steal, kill not to let her go. Spreading her pussy with my hands, I drop a kiss from my lips to her glossed ones. “Damn, am I being challenged, Aria?”
I meet her gaze—mine, a dangerous glower; hers, a sparkling desire. She runs a hand over her breast, tweaking at her nipple. “Yesss, try me, Dominic.”
I run my fingers over her pussy. My hand becomes soaked. I swat the thick, wet folds.
Aria gulps on air. “You just—”
I spank her pussy.
“Dom, you’re craz—”
Again and again, I swat her fat cunt lips until the surprise shining on her face melts into dreamy desire.
“I’m cumming,” she screeches.
My mouth latches onto her pussy, tongue torturing and collecting the sweet sugar.
So much fat ass beneath her, it peeks out at the sides. I grip onto the heavy flesh, using it as leverage to fuck deeper into her. She can’t stop coming, sex rippling over my tongue and squirting down my mouth.
I slide up onto my haunches, lifting Aria around my hips. Her tits bounce as my dick drives deep. I kiss her neck, my lips tasting her beautiful brown skin as we grind together. She screams my name in my ear.
I fuck her with deliberate abandon. Happy tears stream down her cheeks, and her voice cracks as she comes on my cock. Gripping my shoulders, Aria screams until she can’t hold herself steady. I grip her hips, screwing into her. I slow to focus on how her pussy transforms into a second mouth, tasting the veins of my cock as it glides over my hardness.
“Who fucks you better, mami?”
“You! Dominic, you!”
Aria’s eyes close in ecstasy. Biting at the side of her neck, I growl. “Whose pussy is this, mami?”
“Yours.” Aria cries out in passion when my dick dominates her. I tighten my hold on her. My thrusts are commanding. Her moans are music to my ears. When Aria releases my cock, it violently fills her pussy with my hot seed.
I fall back onto the mattress with her on top of me. My arms encircle my everything, heart pounding against hers. She lifts her head, and it’s me who loses myself in her brown eyes. Those foreign feelings I’ve fought become menacing, in a desire to topple over. I start to speak, “Aria . . .”
At the same time, Aria says, “You’ve treated me like a queen far too long. I’m cooking breakfast.”
Gracias, Dios. I let out pent-up air. Bottling my emotions, I clasp her ass and smile. “You wanna know what’s better than bacon por la manana?”
“I’m not making bacon.”
“This pussy. You never have to cook for me, long as you keep your pussy wet, fat, and super-tight for papi. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, but—”
Aria’s laughter floats in the air as I flip her around until I’m on top. Then flip her once more, with her ass against my cock, which is hardening by the second. I palm her flesh, groaning at the small of her back dipping into an arch.
“Ass and pussy for breakfast is all I need, chula.”
“Dom.”
My tongue glides across her chocolate flesh, my teeth sinking in. “I wasn’t asking.”
In a fit of giggles, Aria begs. “Stop biting me, Dom. I’m the crazy one, remember?”
Her fingernails dig into the linen as my nose nudges her puckered hole. My tongue flies into her slit, collecting the marinated juice. My tongue is coated, and her pussy is a sloppy mess. I climb onto my knees and slide in.
“Dominic, we . . .”
“I’m addicted to this pussy.”
“I love you,” she groans, looking back at me. My heart pounds in my chest. Her breath tickling across my cheek. “Dominic, I love you.”
I sit on my haunches, and Aria moves around in a seated position.
“What do you want for breakfast, mami?” Fuck, my M.O. returns with a vengeance. If they don’t leave willingly, you present an illusion. I pushed one of the last few women I had at my home, before Aria, away for the same reason. Feed them breakfast, make them feel special, and then send them on their way.
She arches an eyebrow. My eyes fall to her breast. Then her gorgeous face out of respect and back again. “Mami, I care—”
“Of course, you do. I’m sure when women say the same three-word phrase while you’re pounding inside them, it’s less awkward.”