Chapter Ten
Xiomara
T he Diablos clubhouse was packed with people of all types. Some wore cueros, others wore street clothes. Some of the women wore leather with the words Property of on the back. So many of them sported tattoos, and a lot of them didn’t.
I took it all in with curiosity, while my ma whispered a prayer next to me. This was a culture shock for her, but she’d been nothing but polite so far.
So had everyone else. I guess I hadn’t expected everyone to be so welcoming. Loco had been the first to greet me, wrapping me into a hug like we were family. After his initial flirtations at the shop, he didn’t hit on me again. It was a damn shame, too. The man was fucking fine. His tattooed face and neck only added to his appeal, and the mischief gleaming in his eyes was endearing and sexy both.
Most of the Diablos, even those I hadn’t met, said hi. A lot of them came up to introduce themselves to me. I figured word had gotten out about what I'd done, and instead of the shame that had previously filled me, I felt welcomed. Like I was among people who understood, and instead of being upset, they were proud. They probably wouldn’t have even blinked twice if they knew I didn’t feel guilty about taking three lives.
Or that I’d do it again if I had to.
We mingled for a while, falling into a sense of camaraderie with the others. I was pulled into the fold of women wearing Property of jackets. There weren’t many, as it seemed the single men overpowered the clubhouse at the moment. There were other women too, scantily dressed, though gathered together in their own separate circle. I bet they were the putas of the club, girls who slept with them all in exchange for accommodations, food, and work. An interesting life, one I wouldn’t judge, no matter how hatefully some of them chose to glare in my direction.
Soon, food and booze flowed and more of the single club members started sidling up to me. I laughed at their jokes, flattered at their interest. It was no secret that I was pretty, I was self-aware enough to know that about myself. I relished in their attention, even if I wished it was Ink instead.
As if I’d summoned the surly tattoo artist, he appeared behind Cubano, a dark-skinned, curly haired Afro-Mexicano with a stunning smile, and gripped him by the back of the collar.
“Get lost.” He yanked.
Cubano didn’t move. He was a jovial dude and turned those blindingly white teeth in Ink’s direction. “Can’t you see I’m having a conversation with the lady?”
Ink let out a growl, a sound that was almost animalistic and violent.
It did something to my core.
“Get. Fucking. Lost.”
Cubano laughed but did as he was told, winking at me. “Fine,” he conceded as he walked away. “I’ll take Xio’s mom out to dance.”
I glared lazily at Ink. “We were talking.”
“Not anymore. Come here.” He gripped me by the wrist and I stood and followed, because the other choice would have been to be dragged like a rope behind him with the determined way he moved.
We wove our way around the party and into the clubhouse. Music blasted through speakers, bodies moved together twirling with fast footwork. We went up a flight of stairs, then another, until he dragged me to a room down the hall.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew he was taking me to his room. Just like I knew why. Men were so fucking infuriating and also so predictable. He said he didn’t want me because I was his employee, but he also wouldn’t let anyone else flirt with me? How fucked up was that? And why was I a puta for such behavior?
He closed and locked the door behind him then gave me a shove in the direction towards the bed. I fell onto my ass, my breathing speeding up.
I knew what he wanted.
I wanted it, too.
Even if he was a huge, possessive, machista asshole, I fucking wanted it. Because in that moment, none of his defects mattered. It didn’t matter that he was my boss. That he’d fired me. That he’d barely spoken two words to me since we’d met. That he was acting like a jealous boyfriend when he literally had no right to do so.
All that mattered was the other things. The way he’d had someone paint my ma’s house. The angry way he’d shoved a prospect’s face into a wall for disrespecting me. The tender way his smirk kicked up when he thought my ideas were good. The way he lifted my chin and let me lose myself in his gaze.
The way he’d cleaned the blood off my hands and ensured I was protected and didn’t cower back from the shadows and monsters that plagued me from the inside.
Even if he was silent in his demands, his eyes did the speaking for him. And I understood every fucking word.
His slow perusal of my body ignited my skin, settling every nerve and vein ablaze. Where his eyes tracked, licks of fire trailed after until I felt too hot, too uncomfortable. I shifted, letting myself fall slowly back against his mattress. My brows kicked up, a smirk touched my lips. A challenge and a dare both.
If he thought I was going to fight him on this, to argue, to remind him that we were nothing but boss and employee, he had another thing coming. Did I think starting something was wrong? I did. Yet my stomach twisted up into knots when he was near. I felt safe in his presence, and I wanted to know–at least once–what it felt like to be taken care of by someone else instead of the other way around.
So, yeah. This was a terrible idea. But I knew what doing this meant. It wouldn’t change anything, it wouldn’t make him fall for me, and the next day when we were done, we’d go back to being boss and employee. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.
Our eyes held, but my hands moved of their own volition, sliding across my body in a sensuous dance down my sides, over my breasts and lower still. Ink tore his gaze from mine to track my movements. He bit along his bottom lip.
The quiet wasn’t unnerving. It only emboldened me. My fingers flicked at the button on my jeans and the zipper slid down, material parting to reveal the tight, black boxers I wore beneath.
He finally moved, stalking forward until his knees hit the bed. Every movement he made was confident, sure.
I liked that about him. I liked that there was no hesitation in this, when there had been before. I liked that he stared at me like I was something–someone–to be admired. Someone he couldn’t take his eyes off of.
His fingers hooked into the waist of my jeans, and he yanked on the material, pulling them down the length of my legs. I helped him, kicking them and my boots off. There was no awkward moment. No stopping. Just heat pressing between us, rising as his body fell over mine. He held himself up by the hands and stared down at me.
“I’ll ask this once.” His voice vibrated all down my chest, tightening my core. “Do you want this?”
I cocked an eyebrow daringly. “You didn’t seem too concerned about me wanting this when you dragged me up here in front of everybody.”
“Xiomara.” My name was a mere warning on his lips.
My breath hitched, and I reevaluated my answer, “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Hmm.” He reached between me and the mattress to grasp my neck, holding me firm. I liked the roughness of his fingers digging into my skin. “If at any point you want me to stop–”
“I won’t.” I wanted this more than I wanted air. I wasn’t sure when it happened, how it happened, but at one point between us the lines had blurred. I was drowning in life, in grief, in anger, and it was only him who could save me.
“But if you do–”
My hands wrapped around his waist and yanked him down so his body was flush against mine. The scrape of his jeans against my boxer-clad pussy nearly had me moaning. I rubbed myself against him, searching for friction against my clit. Little bursts of sensation flicked through me at the contact, but it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Ink.” I was breathless. “Fuck me. Now. Hard. I don’t want to talk or think.”
Take control, my eyes pleaded.
I wanted the promise of safety. I wanted the loss of control. I wanted the release of brutality. A fight for pleasure and pain. I wanted everything I knew Ink could give me and more. If only to feel. For once in my life.
He emitted a low growl before he pulled away from me. Something in his eyes darkened even deeper than the shadows in the room.
He didn’t speak again as he grabbed me by the hips and flipped me face down against the mattress. His hands were rough and demanding as they yanked my lower half up until my knees were planted firmly on the mattress, ass in the air.
I buried my face into the covers, biting down on the material to avoid mewling like I really wanted to. My hands tightened into fists when Ink’s fingers pulled at the black boxers, sliding them over the curve of my ass.
A draft of cold hit me as he shoved it down my thighs. His rough palms warmed me right up again as he squeezed and kneaded, touching me at his leisure. I sighed softly, nearly melting into the mattress right before a yelp came out of me when his hand cracked down against my skin.
The slap stung, and yet when he did it again on the other cheek, the brief bite of pain gave way to a different sensation that had me flooding, wet and eager. A groan of absolute pleasure rippled through me. I wiggled my ass, wanting more of that pain while rubbing my thighs together for much needed friction. But he didn’t slap me again. At the slide of his stubbled cheek against my skin, I twisted my head at an uncomfortable angle to stare at him.
The kisses he trailed against me left warmth, and I could feel the soft scraping of his jawline against my light brown skin. Holding my hips tightly with his hand, Ink leaned forward, and I cried out as his tongue licked a stripe up my pussy.
“Fuck.” My hands tightened even further, everything in me electrifying at the warm, wet touch.
“You like that?” His voice rumbled against me.
“Yes.”
I liked it a lot, and I wanted more of it. More of him. Suddenly I was dripping, aching to be filled to the brim with his cock. I leaned back a fraction, my version of begging, even if I wouldn’t say the words.
Because Ink understood me–perhaps more than anyone else–he chuckled, smacking my ass lightly enough to send a frisson of excitement throughout my body.
“My cock is too hard for foreplay,” he growled.
“And I’m too wet to be bothered with it.”
I liked foreplay–who didn’t?–but we’d been dancing around one another for far too long already. I didn’t want to wait any longer.
“Fuck me,” I said. “Hard. As hard as you fucking can.”
I heard the clink of his belt, the slide of a zipper. Everything inside me trembled with anticipation for what was to come. The shuffle of his jeans as he shoved them down. His hands on my hips as he yanked me backwards.
I counted down the seconds, waiting, holding my breath.
The tip of his cock pressed against my folds, hot, slick. I clenched around empty air, my body all but begging to hug him close.
With one hand digging into my hip, the other lashed out to grab me by the back of the neck. It was precisely the kind of roughness I needed to send my thoughts flying. He buried my face into the blankets. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Fear gripped me the longer he kept me face down, so long that my lungs screamed, and yet the pleasure only heightened alongside the unknown danger of the moment.
He was suffocating me and it was only in the best of ways.
Digging into my neck, he yanked my head back up a fraction and I gulped a lungful of air, right before he shoved me face down onto the mattress once more and thrust into me from behind.
My scream was muffled as his thick cock stretched me to fullness. I gasped for breath, but he only pushed my face down harder right before he began to thrust.
Brutal snaps of his hips met mine. The wet noises of our joining echoing through the room. He grunted with every plunge inside, his cock splitting me open from behind, pushing in and out of my channel with the violent ease of someone who owned my body.
And maybe he did. At least for this moment in time. He owned me, and my body wept and begged for more, pulling him into my pussy, throbbing around him.
I grew lightheaded with lack of air, feeling my vision fade around the edges. I trembled and he yanked me up to breathe.
“Ink,” I whispered. It was the only word I could make myself utter before he began his relentless assault on my body again. We were only half naked, and yet the heat that flowed between us was enough to scorch me down to my soul. His grunts became a soundtrack in my ears, and eventually I joined him in my cries.
He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t gentle. His palms slapped at my ass, the sting building an ache that almost sent me spiraling right then. My arms flailed, hands grasping at nothing. Ink just yanked me closer, pushing inside me so deep, I swore I could feel him in my fucking throat.
“You like this, huh?” His hand snaked beneath me to palm my breast. It was painful, the way he squeezed, but it sent every thought flying from my brain.
I rocked back against him. “Yesss…” He pinched my nipple, causing the word to come out in a hiss.
“Sí, Xiomara. Tómalo todo . Take my fucking cock. Take it all.” he snapped his hips against mine, bowing over me. His every rough breath blew against my cheek, the weight of his body a suffocating comfort that I relished in as my body pulled taut.
“Yes, yes, give it to me. Dámelo .” My pleas spurred him on, faster, harder. Every vicious thrust sent a zing through my clit. He hadn’t touched me there, and yet his hips pressed my own onto the bed, creating a contrasting friction between his violence and the softness of the covers. It kept me on the edge of an orgasm, something within my grasp only to be yanked away each time.
“I want to fill you with my cum,” Ink growled, and the words sounded like a fucking threat. The danger of that implication made a thrill shoot through me. Like we were playing a game of chance. It shouldn’t have turned me on as much as it did, but…
“Sí,” I begged. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”
I wasn’t sure what I was begging for in that moment, if I was pleading for my release or pleading for him to cum inside me. I was aware of the hot pulse of his cock and the lack of protection between us. It was irresponsible, and I couldn’t bring myself to give a single fuck when he was pushing me to the edge of where I wanted to be.
My orgasm crested and I chased the sensation. My hips slammed back against his in desperate wanting.
“Oh, fuck, Xiomara…”
The guttural way he said my name was what finally sent me over the edge. I spiraled, free-falling through a void without a parachute. I cried out, screaming into the blanket as he continued his assault.
It was perfect.
It was vicious.
It was brutal.
And it was safe.
The warmth of his cum filled my insides. His cock swelled just before his release claimed him, and he bowed over me, thrusting in snapping inelegance against my body as he chased his own release. I squeezed tightly around him, causing a curse to slip from his lips.
He fell against my back a fraction of a second before hoisting himself up. The loss of his touch was like being flayed open. My breaths came out harshly, but I didn’t move.
His fingers hooked back into the waist of my boxers and he yanked them up. The dark material caught the sliding warmth of his cum, pressing it back against my pussy.
Ink patted my ass, and there was affection in the gesture. I was sure of it.
“We’re going to go back out to the party,” he said in a harsh exhale. “And you’re going to keep my cum inside you like a good girl.”
I nearly whimpered at the words. But he wasn’t done with me. He leaned over me again, his scraping jawline passing against my cheek.
“And while you’re flirting with my club brothers, you’ll do it with my fucking seed inside you.”
It was probably the most he’d ever spoken to me. It was with a whispered hint of violence and anger. It was possessive when it had no right to be. But all my earlier irritation fled, replaced with a strange warmth that spread from my head down to my toes.
His seed was inside of me, and it felt like he’d branded me. It was ridiculous, irresponsible. I should have been pissed off that he hadn’t used a condom, but the thrill of the risk outweighed any sense I should have had in my addled brain.
Fuck if that wasn’t dangerous.
But fuck if I cared.
I pushed myself up on shaking arms and turned in time to see him zip his cock back into his pants. I’d barely gotten a glimpse of it, and my mouth watered, suddenly wanting more. But Ink wasn’t staring at me. His jaw was hard, his veins twitching.
I wondered if this was the part where he began to regret what we’d done. If he wasn’t already.
That didn’t sting, though. It should have, but I was still riding the high of my own bliss that I let it roll off my shoulders.
I was a big fucking girl. I knew this was a one-time thing. And I wasn’t going to regret this, just like I wasn’t going to let what had transpired here come between my relationship with Ink.
He was my boss. That was it.
Even if a part of me wanted something more.