Chapter 8 #2
He appears uncomfortable now, so he looks away from me. He stares into space for so long I rest my hand on his thigh.
“Pablo?”
“What you said is something easily figured out just by knowing my family’s commitment to protect those who can’t protect themselves.
It’s fucked up, but that’s why my family’s stayed in the Cartel.
We know how much worse it could be for people if another family led.
We’ve always made it clear women and children are off limits.
It’s why, unlike other syndicates, we don’t recruit.
We don’t go near minors to get them to join.
Yes, it’s a legacy in many families, but Tío Enrique accepts no one before they’re eighteen. ”
“You’re the one who’s withdrawn now. What else aren’t you telling me?
Is this something you really have to keep secret?
I’ve been around cartels my entire life, Pablo.
I know you’ll lie to me often. Sometimes it’ll be by avoiding telling me anything, and sometimes you’ll tell me a bald-faced untruth.
I understand why. You’re not just protecting yourself.
You’re protecting your family, the people who work for you, their families. I get that.”
“I’ll be protecting you too.”
He’s quiet when he says that. I don’t think he likes admitting it, even if I did it for him.
“Is whatever you’re thinking so bad you have to protect me from it? Or are you just unaccustomed to sharing your thoughts?”
“I’m unaccustomed to sharing them with anyone outside my family. They can read me so well that most of the time I don’t have to say anything. No one else can do that. At least, no one else could. I feel like you can.”
I know that confession cost him a lot. He’s being vulnerable with me, and I won’t take that for granted. I inhale before responding. I might humiliate myself.
“Papí?”
He sucks in a breath so deep his stomach caves. He’s slow to look at me. My hand on his thigh presses harder as the arm that was around his waist lets go, so I can cup his face.
“You see way more of me than I’ve let anyone else see. I don’t think I could stop you. You get me.”
“Call me that again, chiquita.”
“Papí.”
“We understand each other. You don’t look at me as a replacement for your father, do you?”
I choke on my laugh as I shake my head.
“Most definitely not. I don’t think I have daddy issues either.
I don’t have a distrust of men because my father failed my mother and me.
I don’t want a replacement for the father I never had.
I don’t feel younger than I am and want someone to treat me that way.
But you make me feel shielded from everything going wrong.
You take care of me in whatever way you think I need.
I also think it’s sexy as fuck in Spanish.
But I think you know I mean it more than just some term people toss around. ”
“I think it’s because you know I call no other woman chiquita or chica.”
“I do, and you didn’t have to tell me that. You tried to hide your surprise when you said it the first time. You didn’t want me to know you questioned yourself.”
We stare at each other as something passes between us. Sometimes it takes months or years to know you’re meant to have a deep relationship with someone, whether it’s romantic or platonic. Other times, you just know. I just know with Pablo this is more. More than anything from my past.
He helps me stand before he lifts my shirt as I unbutton his. I glance toward the men in the distance.
“We aren’t the first couple to come here. We’re a large family already. With the way my parents’ generation is, I’m surprised we aren’t at least four times as large as we are. They know to look away.”
“Are you sure? I’m not family. What if they think I might try to kill you?”
He grins.
“Then I’d have to wrestle you to the ground and kiss you until you relent. Then I’d fuck you into wanting me to live rather than die.”
He tucks his fingers into the waist of my jeans and tugs me closer.
I slide my hands under his shirt and push it off his shoulders as he undoes the last two buttons.
I marvel at what I see. He’s a canvas of tattoos.
They don’t cover every inch of him, but there are plenty.
I’m sure they each have meaning. His body is fucking chiseled.
Like some Roman sculptor from the Renaissance carved him from marble. No. Granite. He’s harder than marble.
I trail my fingers over his shoulders, arms, and chest before tucking my fingers beneath his belt and tugging like he did to me.
His feet bracket mine as we kiss. I unfasten his belt, then his pants while his hands cup my ass.
When I push them down, he lets go of me and unbuttons, then unzips my pants.
“I know what we did earlier, Flora. But if you’re more comfortable with your bra and panties on and me with my boxer briefs, then we can stop undressing now.”
I skim my gaze over him. He’s hard. There’s nothing my imagination needs to wonder.
“I thought you said the guards wouldn’t watch us.”
“They won’t.”
“Are you worried I won’t like what I find?” I waggle my eyebrows at him.
“I’ve just assumed and pushed you into a lot today.”
“Thank you for considering that.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and lean against him. He hugs me back. I slide my hands beneath his boxer briefs and grab his ass.
Definitely granite.
I moan and rub myself against him as I push down the last thing covering him. He unhooks my bra as he steps out of his underwear. He yanks my panties down.
“Don’t wear these again. We’ll order you new clothes, and you can get anything you want except panties.
I suggest you get skirts or dresses, but I won’t insist. But I told you, I will fuck you when I want.
I will also finger you and taste you whenever the mood strikes. I will not have panties in my way.”
This is part of a twenty-four seven I can get used to. Free use hasn’t been something I’ve done because I’ve only ever met my Doms at my club. It was always a given I wanted to fuck.
“And your boxer briefs?”
“While we’re here, if you don’t want me to wear them, then I won’t. You can take me out whenever you want, but I will still decide how we fuck unless I tell you otherwise.”
That dominance makes me so fucking wet and achy.
“While we’re here? You make it sound like there will be times when we’re together after we leave.”
“I want there to be. I’m letting you into my life, Flora, because I want you to be part of it.
I know you’ve been around cartels since you were born, but you haven’t been with someone who’s part of the ruling family.
You haven’t been with the heir to the strongest cartel in the world.
That brings more danger than you’re in now.
I wouldn’t risk you if I didn’t want you to be with me for real. ”
Fuck.
That’s a lot to take in now that he’s said it aloud. But it isn’t something I hadn’t already sensed.
“Pablo, I accepted that already. I think I’ve known that since you showed up this morning. I’ve known it since the first time I saw you and wanted you.”
“We’ll go as slowly as you need, chica. I don’t expect you to make decisions as fast as I do. I won’t blame you for having doubts.”
“I won’t blame you for having them either.”
He looks at me as though I don’t understand something basic. He’s not a man who doubts his decisions. Once made, he stands by them. He’ll stand by his decision to be with me.
“So, commando for now, Papí?”
He practically growls as he dives in to kiss my neck. He finds the spot behind my ear that’s so fucking erotic that I shift to grind against his thigh again.
“I’ll have to wear boxer briefs when we leave here because there’s no way people won’t know how hard I get when I’m around you.”
I reach between us and wrap my hand around his cock. I stroke him, and he groans.
“You’ll wear fucking underwear because I’ll kill anyone who eyes your cock. I suspect how big you are is obvious even when you aren’t hard.”
My vehemence at the first sentence surprises me. That flare of jealousy and possessiveness is back with a vengeance. From the way he kisses me—practically swallows me whole—he likes it. He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, forcing me to let go of his dick.
He walks around the pool until we get to the wide steps into the shallow end.
The water ripples around us as he moves us until we’re beside a wall.
He presses me against it as one arm supports me beneath my ass.
The other hand lifts my right breast for him to suck on.
Once my nipple is in his mouth. He kneads the other, his thumb swiping over my tight nipple.
When he looks up, his already deep brown eyes are like pools of onyx.
“Is that right, little one? You won’t let anyone near me?”
“Near or far. I told you I won’t share.”
“And if I’m serious when I tell you I won’t let anyone else ogle you?”
“Then you should know I’m just as serious.”
We stare at each other before his hands go to my hips. I tilt them forward, and he thrusts into me. He isn’t claiming me. I’m not claiming him. We’re claiming each other.