Chapter Six
My body still sings with pleasure as Rocco pulls me closer, my back to his front. He palms my hip, his thumb stroking the skin as I do my best to relax.
“I hate to bring it up again, because you obviously don’t want to talk about it, but fuck, Cara, I want to understand.”
Rocco’s words make me stiffen and his arm snakes around me, holding me tight to him like he’s worried I’ll flee.
“Why did you impale yourself on my cock like that?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I ponder whether I should tell him the truth. So far, he’s been honest with me, and he looked devastated when he saw my virginity blood coating his cock.
“I had to,” I mumble.
“But why?”
I shudder in his arms, and he moves his hand to my stomach, spreading it so he’s covering more of me. It feels good. Strange, but good.
“Because you hadn’t claimed me,” I admit in a small voice.
Rocco’s chest rises and falls rapidly, and his fingers dig into the skin on my stomach. “What the fuck does that matter?” he growls.
I don’t know why, but his reaction makes my heart skip a beat, and a smile I’m glad he can’t see, stretches across my lips. Warmth spreads in my chest, something I’ve never felt before so I don’t know what to call it.
“When dad sold Julietta, he told her husband-to-be that the sale wasn’t complete until he’d fucked her.”
I shudder again as I remember how my sister’s husband abused her while we all watched. That’s how I always thought it would be.
When I was in prison, I heard women moan with pleasure, but I always thought that was fake. Something they did because they had to. I’m sure some of them did because not everything that went down was consensual, just like not all of it was forced.
Rocco shifts behind me and moves his hand again. At first I think he’s going to touch me like earlier, and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed when he moves the tips of his fingers across my stomach. It tickles, but not in a way that makes me want to laugh. It’s more like fire trails in the wake of his gentle touch.
“I understand why you did it.” He nuzzles into the crook of my neck, and I arch my back as his lips graze my skin. “But if you ever do something like that to me again, I’ll make you fucking regret it.”
“W-what?” I stammer, not liking the harshness of his tone.
“Did it ever fucking occur to you that I didn’t want to do something like that?”
I furrow my brows in confusion. “No,” I answer honestly. “You’re a guy. Guys expect sex, and you were hard so I thought you would like it.”
When he doesn’t answer, I ramble on.
“Besides, Mindy made it clear you like hard, brutal fucking.”
As soon as the words leave me, I wonder if he’s angry because he wasn’t in control. She said that’s what he wanted, and I took it from him.
“So fucking what? I might be a guy, but I’ve already made it clear I don’t force anyone to have sex with me. I never thought I had to fucking explain I don’t want to be used either.”
Used… yes, I used him.
“I don’t understand,” I say softly. “Explain it to me.”
He sighs, and the air tickles my skin. “Mindy should never have fucking run her mouth like that. But yes, I like fucking. And yes, I like it hard.”
“So you’re upset with me because I did it wrong?”
I feel him shake his head. “No, I’m upset because you took my fucking choice away, and hurt yourself instead of talking to me.”
Silence stretches around us as I contemplate his words. I hear them, yet I can’t make sense of them.
“And because your pleasure is important to me.”
There it is again, the mention of pleasure I never even knew existed.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because when you fuck me dry like last night, it hurts both of us. If you’re wet, it’ll feel amazing for us both. Sex with me is about pleasure. I’m not claiming to be a good guy, and I like pushing boundaries. But consent is important to me.” His solemn tone portrays just how serious he takes it, and it makes me feel bad for what I did.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper.
Should I apologize? I don’t want to because what I did had to be done, and even if it wasn’t intended as punishment, it kind of worked. Though a true punishment should be served in public, that’s what my family did and it worked.
When Mateo and I turned twelve, dad put him in charge of my punishment. I still have the burn marks from the many times he used my skin to put out his cigarettes. Sly as he is, he always aimed for places that would be hidden by my clothes.
After undressing me earlier, I know Rocco’s seen the scars between my tits, and maybe even on my inner thighs. I’m not ashamed of them, they prove I’m strong and that I learned from my mistakes.
“You had a fucked up childhood,” Rocco says. It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. “Sex can be a way to love someone with your body, but it can also just be about pleasure. Wanting to feel good. Do you understand?”
“I-I think so.”
Honestly, I’m not sure I do. But I want to, and I want to feel good again. I experimentally arch my back again, pushing my ass back against him.
“Cara,” he warns on a low growl. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to feel good,” I say. “You said it could just be about the pleasure. That’s what I want.”
Rocco rolls his hips against me, and I feel his hardness slide between my thighs. We’re still naked from earlier, which makes it feel even more intense.
“One last question,” he says. “Then I promise I’ll make you come again.”
Not liking the way it sounds like a trade, I ask, “And if I don’t want to answer?”
“I’ll still make you come.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Ask away.”
“Who hurt you?”
Fuck, he did notice the scars on my body.
The decision to open up isn’t a conscious one, my mouth just won’t stay shut. “Mostly it was Mateo. When I did something wrong, he had to discipline me in front of our sister and parents.”
Rocco makes an angry sound in the back of his throat. “That’s why you want to punish me, isn’t it? Because I did something wrong.”
“I did punish you,” I remind him. “Even if that wasn’t why I did what I did, it doubled as that. So we’re even.”
“You’re so fucked up,” he grumbles.
He’s not wrong.
I’m just about to remind him of his promise to make me come again when Rocco moves his hands to my tits, palming them before he pinches my hardened nipples. When he thrusts his hips against me again, I moan. The tip of his cock slides through my folds and hits my clit, the touch making my pussy throb with want.
“Again,” I moan. “Please.”
He continues to move his cock between my thighs, and I feel myself get wetter with each roll of his hips. Fuck, this is what I wanted.
“Does it feel good, Killer?” he groans, and I eagerly nod.
“Y-yes,” I cry out. “I need more.”
The primal sound coming from deep within his throat stirs something awake inside of me, causing my core to ache. Rocco burrows his face into the crook of my neck. His lips and teeth graze my skin in a way that makes my inner muscles tighten.
Rocco slides one hand down my stomach and all the way to the apex of my thighs. As his fingers skim my clit, I moan his name.
“That’s it, Killer. Fucking say my name.”
“Rocco,” I half-scream as he adds more pressure to my clit. “Yes, that’s it. Don’t stop.” I barely recognize my own voice, it’s throaty with need.
“Does it feel good?”
I barely hear him over the thundering beats of my heart. I’m too far gone to be able to form coherent words. Instead, I move my hips backward as he moves between my thighs, moaning unashamedly when he hits just the right spot over and over again.
“C-can I touch you?” I ask, desperate to know what he feels like but unsure if it’s okay or not.
“Of course,” Rocco groans. “Roll to your back.”
Doing as he says, I roll over, immediately spreading my legs, welcoming him as he moves between them. The tip of his cock nudges against my opening, but he doesn’t move inside.
“Wrap your hand around my cock,” he commands huskily. “And rub me against your clit.”
“Oh!” I cry out as I do just that, and it feels fucking amazing.
When I had him in my hand earlier, I didn’t take the time to really get a feel for him. But now I do. The skin is smooth, except for the vein running along the length. Is it supposed to be this hot? To throb in my hand? It feels heavy, and… and… fuck, I don’t know. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way he feels against my pussy.
Groaning, Rocco commands, “Squeeze me tighter.” I don’t admit that I’m afraid to hurt him. “Here, let me help you.”
He places his hand on top of mine and adds pressure until I’m holding him how he wants it. He’s so big I have no idea how he fit inside me earlier, and my hand can’t even close around his girth.
“Now rub yourself.”
I lift my hips and angle them so he’s hitting me in a way that has pleasure coursing through my veins. I can’t stop moaning, every touch sends me higher, and I feel my toes curl.
“Rocco.” I cry out his name, unsure how to get us both where we want to be.
“I got you, Killer,” he groans as though he’s reading my thoughts.
He thrusts into my hand, hitting my clit with each movement and before long my legs are shaking and my free hand clutches the sheet beneath me.
“I-I’m going to… I can’t… Rocco!”
“Oh fuck,” he groans as he picks up the pace. “Yes. I’m going to paint your cunt in my cum.”
Unable to form words, I cry out as I come apart. This is nothing like before, it’s much more intense, and I can barely catch my breath.
Once I’m no longer shaking, I push myself up on my elbows. “What was that?” I ask curiously.
Rocco falls down next to me, a lazy grin on his lips. “What was what?”
“That,” I repeat, gesturing between us.
“An orgasm, Killer,” he says, rolling his eyes like I’m not making sense.
I shake my head. “Nuh-uh. This was nothing like earlier. It was… more.”
With a chuckle, he pulls me into his embrace, and I rest my head on his chest. “They’re not always the same,” he explains patiently. “Some are better than others.”
Huh, I never knew that. Then again, why would I when I never even knew a woman is able to feel good during sex.
Rocco’s phone vibrates on the nightstand, and he reaches for it, cursing as he answers.
“What?” he snaps into the microphone.
I can’t hear what’s being said on the other end, but whatever it is has Rocco getting out of bed, reaching for his clothes.
“Fine.” Silence. “Yeah, we’ll be there soon.”
I watch as he finishes getting dressed, unashamedly enjoying the show.
“We need to leave?” I ask, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.
Although this has been the longest day in some ways, I don’t feel tired. I feel reinvigorated, and like I need to do something other than lie here.
“Yeah,” he confirms. “Cain wants to go over something at Dirty Diamonds.”
Wrapping the sheet around me, I head toward the back door for a quick shower.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Rocco sounds amused.
Turning around, I face him. “To clean myself,” I explain, confused when he shakes his head.
“No way, Killer. I want to know your cunt is painted in my cum.”
I feel my cheeks heat at his words, and a refusal is on the tip of my tongue. But then I take a second to ponder it, and… I think I want that too.
“Okay,” I relent.
Ignoring his satisfied smirk, I get dressed in the leggings and top from earlier. It’s not as impressive as my leather outfits, but paired with the boots it’s not half-bad. Plus, without heels I feel too small next to Rocco.
We get into his truck, and he quickly drives us to Dirty Diamonds where Cain’s waiting outside. He’s leaning against the wall, one leg propped up as he blows smoke into the night.
“My, my, my. If it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. King,” he says as a way of greeting. “How are you doing, Cara?”
“Better than some, worse than others,” I say with a shrug, making sure to turn each S into a hiss.
Cain’s brows shoot up. “You heard me,” he laughs, and I nod. “Well played, snake.”
Rocco shakes his head and takes my hand. “Let’s get on with whatever’s the reason you dragged me down here,” he says as we follow Cain inside.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cain retorts. “Did I disturb your sex-a-thon?”
“His what?” I ask.
With a wink, Cain elaborates. “You see, some people turn sex into a marathon, or as I call it, a sex-a-thon. Wait, are you two having sex?”
“None of your damn business,” Rocco growls.
At the same time, I say, “Yes.”
When Rocco looks at me, I just shrug. I’m not embarrassed by what we’re doing, and I’d rather that the word spreads than having Mateo show up again. Or bitches like Mindy think they can take what’s mine.
As we reach the bar, Cain points at the guy behind it. “That’s Tex. Make good friends with him, Cara. He holds the keys to the liquor cabinet, so to speak. And if he likes you, he won’t mind making you some fancy cocktails despite your age.”
I wave awkwardly at Tex who nods back at me.
“Right, I’m going to borrow your hubby,” Cain says, turning toward Rocco.
“Give me a sec,” my husband says, not taking his eyes off mine. “Try not to get into any more fights, Killer.”
I grin. “I can’t promise that.”
He chuckles, closing the distance between us. “Just know that it makes me fucking hard to see you stand up for yourself. So unless you want me to make you come here, don’t tempt me.”
Bending down, he fuses his lips to mine. His tongue licks at the seam of my mouth until I open for him, and snake my tongue around his.
Kissing Rocco is the sweetest addiction, and I almost forget where we are as he tilts my head back and deepens the kiss.
“Behave,” he rasps as he pulls back, shooting me a wink before he leaves with Cain.
I walk over to the bar, greeting Tex as I sit down on one of the tall barstools. “Hi.”
“You’re the wife?” he asks as he looks up from the glass in his hand.
“That’s me,” I confirm.
Without asking what I want he starts to mix me a cocktail. I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s pink and fucking delicious.
I quickly learn that Tex isn’t one for small talk, and that suits me just fine. Turning on the chair I watch the strippers on stage. There are five of them, and while some interact, others do their own thing.
The room isn’t as full as I had thought it would be on a Saturday, but with how many people who come up to the bar it looks like business is booming. Maybe it’s because it’s late. I don’t know when the club’s prime time is, but I suppose it’s possible it’s earlier in the evening.
“Are you Cara?” a woman asks as she comes up to me.
“Alana,” Tex says, greeting her.
I nod at her. “That’s me.”
“There’s someone here to see you.”
At first, I don’t understand. But then I remember that young homeless looking guy, Gray mentioning he might see me around here, and I assume it’s him. If it is, I’ll offer him a fucking haircut, so he doesn’t look as unkempt as he did last night… err… this morning. Shit, it’s all blurring together, making today the longest day.
When I get off the stool, Tex says, “Stay nearby so I can keep an eye on you.”
“He’s just right over there,” Alana says, pointing toward the nearest alcove.
I follow her over, and as she pushes through some of the guests, my blood runs cold. “Mateo,” I gasp. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
My twin looks more haggard than the last time I saw him. His eyes are wild, and there’s a welt on his arm.
“I came to see you, of course.” The smile on his face sends chills down my spine. “How are you doing, dear sister?”
Taking a step back, I eye him cautiously. “You have no right to check up on me,” I hiss. “You need to leave. Now. Before Rocco sees you.”
Mentioning the man who bought me doesn’t deter my brother in the slightest. He shrugs like it’s of no consequence to him. “You’re family,” Mateo insists. “Why can’t I just come and see you? I’ve missed you. We should catch up.”
As I scrutinize him, I can’t decide if he’s lying or not. Mateo has never been sentimental, which would suggest he isn’t being honest. But… what if he is?
“I-I…”
“Come on, Cara. Me and mom are the only family you have left, and we want to start over.”
The words pluck at my heartstrings.
Family…
How often have I wished mine was different? That I was loved rather than used. This could be my opportunity to get what I’ve always wanted.
Just as I think that, Julietta’s face pops into my mind. It’s too late. The family I wanted included her, and she’s gone. Killed by a cold-blooded fucking monster.
“No,” I snap.
“Please, Cara,” Mateo begs, something I never thought I’d hear.
I straighten my spine and take another step backward. “Do you honestly think—”
Before I can finish speaking, Mateo gets in my face. Fury rolls off of him as he slaps me. “You stupid fucking cunt,” he snarls. “You never did learn your place.”
My hand shoots up to my cheek, it’s burning. “W-what?” I stutter, confused by his outburst.
Everything happens so quickly I barely have time to react.
Mateo lunges, swinging his fist at me, and I don’t lift my arm quickly enough to block him. His fist connects with my chin, causing my head to snap to the side as I stumble backwards.
No!
Not to-fucking-day.
In prison, I took up kickboxing in the gym, and unofficially I learned to throw knives. Since I don’t have my own blade, the latter won’t help me.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I sneer.
Then I kick out, aiming for his stomach. But Mateo manages to move to the side, avoiding me.
“You bitch,” he shouts.
Rolling my shoulders back, I stand as tall as possible, refusing to show any weakness. “At least I’m not some pathetic mama’s boy,” I taunt. “Unlike you, I don’t hide behind our parents.”
A sinister smile spreads across his lips. “And unlike you, dear twin, I’m fucking worthy. All you were good for was being sold. Tell me, did your pathetic husband finally fuck you?”
There’s something in his voice that causes me to really look at him. They say that all twins have a special bond, and right now, that feels true, even though it’s not a good one.
“It was a warning,” I say. “Coming to Rocco’s house last night was a warning, wasn’t it?”
He shrugs, pretending to look indifferent but I see the relief in his eyes. “So what if it was?”
Yeah… so what if it was? I don’t know. But surely it has to mean something.
“I don’t know,” I almost whisper. “Why would you do that?”
As if he’s angered by my question, Mateo clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. “Don’t start asking questions, Cara. You and I were pitted against each other since we were kids, and that’s how it will always be.”
Tears form in my eyes, and a single one escapes, trailing down my cheek. “Okay,” I choke out.
I’m not going to attempt to change his mind, because he’s right. We haven’t been close since we were kids, and one somewhat kind act isn’t changing that.
I see the second he decides to attack me, and I swiftly kick out at him again. This time, I hit him square in the chest, and it’s his turn to stumble backwards.
“You cunt,” he seethes.
Rolling my eyes, I volley, “I’m getting so sick and fucking tired of people using that word against me.”
Without pausing, he comes at me. Or, he tries to. But before he reaches me, Rocco steps in front of me, a gun in his hand.