Chapter 30 Silas
Kids, drunks, and angry people will always tell the truth. That’s the quote, but I can’t figure out what the truth is right now. I put Thalia to bed, and when I asked who she was crying for, she said, “Lucia.”
Silas: What’s the name of the little girl you sent me a picture of?
Jasper: Lucia Consuelo. One of Olivia Consuelo’s twins.
Silas: How old is she?
Jasper: Not sure, boss.
Silas: You find Axel?
Jasper: Noone can find him.
Silas: Get a DNA sample from the little girl.
Jasper: They won’t be back to the hotel for another week or two. I’ll have Nero get one.
Silas: That’s fine. That gives me time to send off a sample of Thalia’s.
Sometimes my intuition turns out to be nothing more than paranoia. But I can’t shake the feeling that Thalia is hiding something. Her sleep is always restless, and her responses to me are always thought out before she speaks.
I walk to the top of the stairs to find her in the kitchen, grabbing eggs from the refrigerator. I don’t even bother getting dressed before making my way down the staircase. I know what I want for Christmas, and it doesn’t require any clothing. When I get to the bottom, I see her standing there with her eyes closed, rubbing an egg over her body. She hears me and jumps.
“Silas. What are you doing?” Her eyes look down and right back up to mine.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m… Jesus, Silas, can you put some underwear on?” she says.
“No,” I reply. She rolls her eyes.
“I’m cleansing myself. Your little girlfriend gave me ojo, and I can’t have negative energy attached to me.” I watch her rub the egg all over her body with careful precision, then crack the egg into a cup of water. I move behind her, gathering her hair and kissing the soft spot behind her ear.
“Cleanse me, bruja,” I say softly into her ear.
Her back goes straight in front of me before she steps to the side and grabs another egg. She’s wearing black silk shorts that barely cover the bottom of her fat ass and a black tube top that pushes her breasts up. She walks back toward me and stands behind me. She delicately rubs the egg over the back of my head and whispers some type of prayer.
“How do I know you’re not cursing me?” I ask.
“You don’t.” She slides the egg down my back. I feel the cold egg and the tips of her fingernails glide over my ass. My dick goes completely hard at the touch. She rubs the egg down my legs before stepping in front of me.
“Seriously. This is a sacred ritual.” She glances down at my erection.
“Sex is the most powerful ritual of all.” I press into her, and her body goes soft in my embrace. She doesn’t protest when I lift her up onto the counter. I bite down on her neck, marking her, and she arches her back, dropping the egg to the floor.
“Who needs an egg cleanse, mija, when this pussy will snatch the very soul out of my body?” I run my hand over her pussy, feeling her wetness soaking through her panties. I move to her mouth and kiss her. It’s deep, and she moans into my mouth. Her hands grab and pull at my hair.
I want more of her.
I want all of her.
I want her to surrender it all to me.
“Beg me for it, bruja,” I say, pulling away from her. The tiny red flecks around her pupils blaze as she stares into my eyes. She’s panting from the absence of my mouth on hers, but she’s not done. She grabs my head and pulls it back into her.
“Cógeme,” she says. Fuck me .
Her mouth skims over mine before she bites down on my lips. I growl into her mouth as that feral need ignites in me. Her legs wrap around me, and she pulls me into her. I run a hand underneath her tube top and feel her bare breasts beneath the fabric. I let out a moan. I have a fascination with the way she goes braless around the house. The easy access to my favorite part of her makes daily tasks difficult, when all I want to do is bury my face in her breasts.
I move to take off her tube top, and she puts her hand out in front of me.
“Wait. I need to ask you something.” She’s still panting, but I wait for her to finish.
“It’s just, I’m a bit emotional today and—” She hesitates and looks away. “Never mind, forget it.” I grab her hair and move her face back to mine.
“No. Tell me,” I command.
“Will you make love to me?” She presses her lips together tight, like she didn’t want those words to escape her. “I mean, it’s okay. If that’s too much, we don’t have to. I love the savage sex we have, but I just… I need to feel loved right now. Not real love, just—” I place a finger to her lips to quiet her rambling.
I look into her eyes before I cradle her face and bring her into me. This time, when I kiss her, it’s slow and deep. I’m not sure either of us can really settle for vanilla, but I can make love to her. To my wife.
I pick her up and take her up to the room. I slowly remove every article of clothing she has on. I give myself time to fully study every curve of her body. Every tattoo, every beauty mark, every scar. I lower onto her and pepper her with kisses.
I run my tongue over her nipples and watch as her chest rises and falls with the sensation. Her fingertips slide down my back, and I kiss her stomach, down to her inner thighs. I slowly spread her legs and move between them. My eyes skim over her glistening skin while I slide my crown in. I drop my forehead to hers and lift one of her legs to my hip. A grunt escapes the back of my throat as I slide in deeper, feeling her tightness clenching around me. She digs her nails in harder, and the pain only creates pleasure that courses through me, from my balls to the crown.
I pull her leg up higher and thrust into her. We moan at the same time, and she pushes her pelvis into me. I rotate my hips, slowly driving into her with deep and long strokes that make her whimper. I continue to move into her, our joined bodies falling into perfect sync. Moving together in slow motion, time stills. Fucking her like this makes feelings surface that I’m not prepared for. This woman is mine. And not just in this moment, but in every lifetime. I claimed her, but she owns me. Her moans become longer, and her legs begin to shake.
She feels so good.
I take in every sensation. Grinding into her. Listening to the symphony of our bodies. Her pussy is making a song of its own with how wet she is. My mouth is near hers when her name falls from my lips. I move into her with long strokes, lifting her leg higher and continuing to hit deep inside her. I suffocate her cries with my lips, and when her pussy clenches around me, I come undone.
I push in deep as my orgasm spills into her. I keep my dick submerged in her as I savor the moment. Our breathing is heavy. I lean down to kiss her, but she pulls away from me. She pushes my chest and removes herself from underneath me. She searches for her clothing without looking at me. What the fuck?
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I need to go clean up the kitchen, and…”
“Come lay with me.” I’m humiliated when the words fall out. It sounds a lot like fucking begging. What fucking spell is she casting on me? She puts her clothes back on and sighs.
“Thanks,” she says and walks out the door.
Thanks? My ribs tighten. I follow her down the steps into the kitchen.
“Thanks? You asked me to fuck you like a delicate flower, but then get freaked out when I want to cuddle?” I’m right on her heels, and she spins around to face me.
“What do you want from me, Silas? Really? I get that you need help with your siblings, and I promised to help you, but I can’t do this.” She gestures her hand between us.
“Do what exactly, Thalia?” I yell. The feeling of rejection slowly shifts to anger.
“This. I know I asked for the sex, but I just can’t… We can’t get caught up in feelings when this is just temporary,” she says while bending down to pick up the shattered egg.
“Temporary? This is far from fucking temporary. We’re married. Till death do we part.” I grab her by the arm and pull her up to face me. “What are you really afraid of? That you might accidentally fall in love with me? I’m your fucking husband!” I shout, and she pushes me away.
“We are playing house right now. You know nothing about me, Silas. Nothing! Sure, you gave me a few decent orgasms, but that doesn’t qualify as love.”
A few decent orgasms?
This little…
All I can see is red as I stalk toward her. She stands with her shoulders pointed toward me as she stares me down. Her ice cold stare fights against the heat radiating off of me. Together, we are a natural disaster waiting to happen. I reach for her throat and bring her ear to me.
“I think we both know those orgasms were more than decent. And as far as love goes, I don’t give a fuck if you love me or not. You are still my wife! And that makes you mine.”
“What if I don’t want to be yours?” she challenges.
“There is no other option, Thalia. You can be with me, or you can enjoy the backseat of a hearse.”
Thalia loves to pick a fight and win with the last dig. She won’t win the last word game with me. I’m on her same level of psycho. You could say a match made in heaven, or better yet, in hell.