Dios mío, a la chingada.
Holy fuck.
A flood of warmth surged between my legs, and I didn’t think. I acted. I took him in my mouth, giving him everything he wanted as he hit the back of my throat.
Brody hissed, leaning back on one arm as I bobbed up and down, fighting my gag reflex. “Ah, fuck. Yes, just like that. Faster.”
All those things he said he wanted to do were just words. His commands flirted on the edge of dirty but didn’t fall over. His hand twisted in my hair but didn’t pull. His hips ground into the mattress but didn’t move. He was a live wire sparking toward an explosion, but he was holding back because he didn’t want to hurt me.
But that wasn’t what I wanted.
This was my gift. My ending. And I wanted to give him the fantasy.
I gently pulled away and sighed. “I’m breaking another rule for you.”
His pants came harsh and hard. “What?”
“I’ve never let a man come in my mouth. It’s almost as intimate as kissing to me. I’m giving this to you. I’m giving you everything, and you’re holding back. I’m not innocent, Brody. I’m not made of glass. I’m scandal and immorality and sin. Now, are you going to claim me, or not?”
It was like a switch flipped in Brody’s head. Twisting his hand in my hair, he shoved my open mouth onto his cock so hard, I choked. I braced my hands on his thighs, tears streaming down my cheeks as he pulled my head back.
“You want a taste of sin, princesa?” he growled. Holding the base of his shaft, he flicked the head against my lips. “Lick.”
I obeyed. Flattening my tongue, I dragged it across every inch, aching for more.
“Goddamn, that mouth…” It was all he said before pushing me back down, hard steel filling my throat once more. But this time, he joined the effort, guiding me up and down his length by my hair. Just as I started to get used to the punishing rhythm, he bucked his hips, thrusting up every time he pushed me down.
His hips and his hand were in a duel, and his cock was the only weapon.
“Is this what you wanted?” He groaned out the last word, and I peeked up to see his head thrown back, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat.
His movements were reckless and frantic. I didn’t know how much more I could take. My jaw ached, my throat burned, and my lungs were desperate to cough, but I refused to give in. We both needed this, and I was seeing it through until the end.
“Shit!” Brody’s whole body jerked right before warm spurts jetted down my throat. Letting out a primal growl, he clamped both hands against the back of my head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” As his body spasmed, he opened his eyes and looked down. Seeing me struggle set him off again, sending another round of his release into my mouth.
Finally, he pulled away and cupped my face in his hands. “Swallow it,” he commanded. “I marked it, now show me it’s mine.”
So, I swallowed, and when I felt a mix of saliva and cum drip down my chin, Brody chased it with his index finger, scooping it back up to my lip. Without hesitating, I licked it off, the possessive adoration in his eyes all the reward I needed.
Hauling me up by my shoulders, he pulled me into his chest and took my lips in a devastating kiss that carved my heart out of my chest and laid it at his feet. New tears coated my wet face as I kissed him back, pouring everything I had left into that one moment.
That one perfect moment.
I hoped he kept this memory locked away, safe from the tarnished ones to come.
Pulling away, Brody brushed a hand across my cheek. He didn’t mention the fresh tears coating his fingers, but he knew they were there, and the pain in his voice shattered me as he stroked my hair. “Why does this feel like goodbye?”
I forced a smile and traced his lips, memorizing every groove and crevice. “Nothing lasts forever, counselor.”
“Then kiss me again.”
Maybe he understood what he was asking. Maybe he didn’t. I chose to believe somewhere, deep down, a part of him knew it was goodbye. I understood better than anyone that sometimes you were better off opting to live in ignorance than reality.
Reality was a cold and soulless place.
So, I kissed him with all the passion and hunger inside me, trying to silently reassure him that the act and the words weren’t mutually exclusive.
I loved him.
And because I loved him, as he lay sleeping, I gave his lips one last kiss and left my heart next to his pillow as I walked out.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Brody
For the second time, I woke up to an empty bed.
However, we weren’t in Chapala, and this time, I had a feeling it had less to do with sneaking out to avoid an argument as much as sneaking out to avoid a confrontation. One that had one hell of a right hook, I might add.
Despite the fact Vergara was still out there. Despite the fact the Muñoz Cartel was still intercepting our shipments. Despite the fact we now knew why he had a vendetta against the Carreras, especially Adriana, I couldn’t stop smiling.
She never said the words, but then again, neither did I. It didn’t matter. I felt them. She loved me. No woman had ever surrendered herself to me like Adriana did last night. If I ever wavered before, I didn’t now. Adriana Carrera was mine, and God help the man who tried to take her from me.
After a quick shower, I started to shave, then remembered Adriana’s nails raking through the scruff filling in my cheeks and tossed the razor in the trash. Maybe it was time to ditch the clean cut, boy next door look. After all, I was a cartel lieutenant, and an intimidating image was everything in this world.
I smirked at the reflection in the mirror.
Yeah, it was time to lay Brody Harcourt, assistant district attorney to rest, and breathe life into Brody Harcourt,, first lieutenant of the Carrera Cartel.
And the first thing the new Brody Harcourt needed to do was get rid of the Armani suits. Adriana was right. They made me look like an investment banker. But my choices were limited, so I pulled on the black jeans she made me buy and a white button-up shirt, rolled up at the sleeves.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
My phone chimed with a text, and I groaned, knowing if Val heard it, there would be hell to pay. However, once I saw it was from Carlos, I didn’t care.
Not much on Cristiano Vergara, but Ignacio and Rosita are Colombian. Funny since I’ve never heard the name. Maybe an alias since I can’t find any record of Ignacio existing.
I forgot I’d asked him for intel. Since he had nothing on Cristiano’s whereabouts, I decided not to text him back. I had more information at this point.
Opening the door to the sitting room Val used for our meetings, I was met with silence. Val stood in his usual spot at the bar, glass in hand and eyebrow cocked. Mateo sat on the couch, one ankle crossed over his opposite knee, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“When’s the rodeo, cowboy?”
I stalked past him, flipping my middle finger. “Fuck off, Cortes.”
Val just poured a glass of scotch and held it out. “You’re late.”
Rolling my eyes, I reached for the glass, then hesitated as Adriana’s voice filled my head.
“You need to lay off the booze. I’ll never understand why people willingly destroy their bodies. It’s disrespectful to those who never got to make that choice.”