The sound was my name. The meaning was fuck me.
Reaching a hand in my pocket, I pulled out a small metal key. Holding her cuffed hand steady, I turned the key, springing the lock free. Before she could react, I grabbed her free hand and crossed it over the other one, snapping the lock in place over both.
Glancing above her head, her eyebrows lifted, but my body lit on fire as I stared hungrily at her bare skin. Fusing my mouth to hers once more, I plunged inside, needing the taste of her more than I cared to admit. With her arms bound above her head, her back arched even more and pressed her breasts into my palms.
I wasn’t a man used to waiting for what he wanted. This moment would be no exception.
Hooking my fingers around the bottom of her tank top, I yanked it up and over her chest, taking her bra with it. The moment her round flesh sprang free from the lacey material, my cock hardened to a level that had me wincing in pain. I’d never wanted a woman this much.
Anticipating the taste, I flattened my tongue and raked it over the sensitive flesh of her nipple. A low gurgling groan rumbled in her chest as she jerked on the cuff restraining her. I wasn’t particularly into BDSM, I just still didn’t trust her.
“God, Val…”
Closing my mouth around the tip, I sucked vigorously, eliciting a wail from her tilted chin. Curses flew from her mouth as I divided equal attention to the other one. Satisfied she’d had enough, I resumed my descent.
By the time I reached for the button on her jean shorts, I couldn’t hold back. Unzipping in a frenzied pace, I yanked them down her legs, taking the pathetic scrap of lace with them, just as I’d imagined doing that first night at the cantina. Tearing off my own pants, I paused for a moment of clarity to grab a condom out of the pocket. Seconds later, I leaned over her and plunged two fingers deep inside her depths.
“Jesus, Cereza. You’re drenched for me.”
“Val!” She screamed, yanking on the handcuffs and twisting underneath me. “Stop talking!”
Growling, I removed my hand and lined the head of my cock at her entrance. With one last look, I closed my eyes and drove inside without reservation. A scream tore from her throat with the force of my possession, and she tensed, her walls clenching me tightly. The pressure sent blinding waves of red swirling across my closed eyes.
Fuck, nothing had ever felt this good.
There was no turning back. The need to fully possess her was too strong. With a primal groan, I plunged the rest of the way in, drawing another piercing scream from her lungs. I almost pulled back, but she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist, encouraging me.
That was all I needed. Taking control, I drove inside her repeatedly, each thrust harder than the last. Blind lust replaced common decency as I fucked her like a wild animal. Her back slid against the metal rail of the bed, and I bit down on her shoulder as our hips collided. Our bodies moved in a chorus of furious movement that eventually pinned both of us flush against the bed frame.
I’d never fucked this hard. I wanted to fuck her harder. I wanted to fuck her unconscious.
“Val, God…”
“Do you want to come, Eden? Is that what you want?” Every word I spoke was punctuated by a forceful thrust that shifted her body backward.
She screamed as her inner walls clamped hard around me. “Yes.”
“Then ask me, Cereza.”
Her eyes widened, then darkened. “Fuck you.”
A snarl plastered across my lips. “No. I’m. Fucking. You.” On the last word, I threw her right leg over my shoulder and went deeper. The angle forced her back to bend over the rail, and her head to disappear behind her.
“Shit!” With a scream, she squeezed the life out of me as she convulsed. I held her through the aftershocks, still pounding into her as my mind went blank.
“Queriéndote me acaba…” Wanting you will end me.
As I exploded, my mind unscrambled, and I slowed my pumps until my body stilled. Resting inside of her, the frenzy ended and clarity returned.
Fuck. What have we done?
Unable to look at her, I dressed quickly, and moved off the bed, desperate to be anywhere else. She lay there naked and silent, her breathing shallow.
Picking up the fork that led to the fuck, I shoved it in my back pocket along with my gun. Without a word, I reached for her hands and unlocked the handcuff. After what just happened, I couldn’t bring myself to recuff her.
“I’ll have Mateo bring you something to eat later.”
Keeping my eyes focused forward, I closed the door to the sound of the metal cuffs hitting the wood with force behind me.
Chapter Sixteen
Eden
They sounded like fireworks popping off in the distance—rhythmic in their cadence with an echoing thunder that seemed to immediately follow each one.
The moment I cracked an eyelid, darkness enveloped me. For a moment, irritation convinced me I’d left the television on full blast again. Groaning, I reached for the remote to quiet the intrusive sound when a jolt of lightning shot up my arm. Confusion set in as my limbs itched with stiffness.
Then it all came rushing back in a hot haze of defeat and submission.
The finality of what happened, and my resolve to see everyone involved, including myself, dead for causing it, flashed through my head. Tears clouded my vision, and I curled up on my prisoner’s bed, mulling it over. Night had fallen, darkening my already burning self-hatred.
Not that the fire needed much stoking.
I just hoped that somewhere Nash turned a blind eye to the way I’d pissed all over his name.
Flinging myself onto my back, I counted eighteen water-stained dots on the ceiling before visions of Val’s body slamming into mine had me squirming in place.
I knew it was wrong. Every bone in my body knew it was wrong, but my mouth refused to say ‘no.’ Powerful physical attraction, coupled with admitted defeat, broke me. But what tore me up inside the most was that I wanted more than anything to hate him for it.
Instead, I hated myself because I didn’t.
The only time I didn’t feel like drowning was when I was with him. The correlation between the two made no sense, and I didn’t care to think about what kind of fucked up Stockholm Syndrome I’d developed long enough to figure it out.
My father used to say that mistakes were life’s necessary evils. Without them, there’d be no way for a person to see the error of their ways and know the right path for the next time.
Val Carrera was an evil mistake, but far from necessary. Righteousness wouldn’t be a moral dilemma again. There wouldn’t be a next time.
Rubbing my tender wrist, I thanked small miracles that Val didn’t cuff me before he left. I had no concept of time without my phone, but I guessed it to be sometime after nine or ten. Refusing food and water had been a stupid move. All my body wanted was sleep to conserve energy after my pathetic attempt at utensil retaliation.
My whole life had been a psychiatrist’s wet dream. At fourteen years old, I’d gotten caught with a senior behind the football field. My therapist called it “Impulsive/Undisciplined Child Therapy” and shoved antidepressants in my face. I didn’t need drugs. I was just pissed I’d found out my father had been lying to me my entire life about my mother. She hadn’t died. Three days after my birth, she decided being a mom was too much of a hassle and took off.