Chapter 19
By the timeGordo and I stride into the house, I’m well past the pissed-off stage.
Fuckin’ Hidalgo tried to screw with my newest contact. Luckily, we were a step ahead of ’im, but he’s pissin’ me the hell off. Which means my temper is beyond frayed.
It gets even worse.
Miguel and Diego’s absence from the front end of the house is noticeable. When Luis isn’t standin’ watch outside Miss Arias’s bedroom, my fingers clench and unclench, longin’ to beat the shit outta somebody—or multiple somebodies.
The subtle laughter and din of conversation carryin’ out from the kitchen makes my spine stiffen, and I grit my teeth so hard they begin to ache.
When we near the doorway to the kitchen, the voices grow stronger, and there’s no mistakin’ the familiar feminine one chattin’ easily with the other males.
My cook, Javier, who never so much as smirks is now dryin’ dishes with a wide smile on his face as he listens to their conversation.
“He held a gun on you that many times?” Miguel lets out a low whistle, shakin’ his head. “Damn. I don’t know anybody who’s gotten lucky enough not to have him pullin’ the trigger the first time.”
Fuckin’ Miguel, Diego, and Luis—three of my toughest men, who’ve never been swayed by a woman before—crowd around the kitchen island on barstools where Lola sits.
With her bare feet restin’ on one of the barstool’s rungs, her lips are curved in a proud smile. The playful glint in her eyes draws a strange sort of possessiveness from me.
“Then again, it worked in our favor ’cause these gotta be the best chicken nachos I’ve ever had.” This comes from Luis before he shovels in another mouthful.
“Same.” Miguel groans as he pats his flat stomach. “You gotta tell us your secret. ’Cause that chicken was so fuckin’ tend—” He breaks off when Diego nudges him, flashin’ him a sharp look. Miguel offers Lola an apologetic look before rephrasin’. “I mean, so damn tender and moist.”
Jesus Christ. Since when do my men censor their language?
Diego nods. “I can’t figure out what herbs you used with it, but it’s a perfect mix.”
A faint flush spreads across Lola’s cheeks at his praise as Gordo and I look on in disbelief.
“Am I fuckin’ payin’ you to sit on your asses and eat?”
At my question, the three men straighten so abruptly that the barstools screech against the floor in protest.
Their apologies come rapid fire.
“Sorry, boss.”
“So sorry, boss.” Miguel says this around a mouthful of food, and it only pisses me off more.
Luis thinks quick on his feet, but it’s all a bunch of bullshit, and we both know it. “Sorry, boss. We were just watchin’ over Miss Arias, makin’ sure she, uh, didn’t venture somewhere she wasn’t supposed to.”
I ignore the way Lola’s entire demeanor has dimmed. Instead, I give a simple command. “Get out.”
The three of them toss their napkins on their plates but hesitate to leave, castin’ longin’ glances back at their unfinished food.
My vision turns red, and Gordo saves me by pipin’ up, “Get the fuck out now while you can still use your legs.”
They scramble out of the kitchen. When my glare lands on Javier, who’s dryin’ dishes, he’s quick to set the towel and plate down before scramblin’ to exit.
Gordo shakes his head before followin’ in our cook’s wake, leavin’ me and Lola alone.
There’s no denyin’ the aroma fillin’ the kitchen is delicious. I ignore it, though, in favor of lockin’ eyes with the woman now glarin’ at me.
“You could’ve let them finish their food before chasing them off.”
A harsh sound rumbles up my throat. “You think I’m runnin’ a social circle or somethin’?”
I circle the large island, notin’ her body stiffenin’ as I draw closer. “My men have a job to do. And it isn’t to screw around in my goddamn kitchen with you.”
She stares daggers at me, so I step farther into her space, crowding her. My gaze lands on her mouth and travels down her body. I wonder if she realizes how her nipples tighten beneath her sports bra when I stop in front of her. Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths as she tips her head back to maintain my gaze.
“And you sure as shit shouldn’t be paradin’ around my fuckin’ house half-dressed and flirtin’ with my men.”
Her scowl deepens, her nostrils flarin’. “I wasn’t flirting with anyone, you asshole.”
“Sure about that?” I raise my hand and graze the front of her sports bra with the back of my knuckles, draggin’ it over one of her nipples. Her lips part, and her pupils dilate, tellin’ me she’s not so immune to me after all.
Her nipples press against the fabric like they’re beggin’ for my touch. And damn if I’m not tempted. Tempted to yank down those straps and see ’em for myself. “Sure seems like there’s a part of you that wants my attention.”
Her breath catches in her throat, her entire frame freezin’ in place. She grits her teeth. “Just because my body reacts to something doesn’t mean I want attention or that I’m flirting.”
She lifts her chin, her glare borin’ into me. “Is this another one of your threats?” she sneers. “You think by touching me, you’ll intimidate me?”
“Maybe it’s a test to see if you’ve got what it takes to keep your mouth shut.” Holdin’ her eyes, I move to her other nipple, this time draggin’ my knuckle even slower. Fuck if I don’t get hard at the way it catches on the hard tip.
A mixture of confusion and heat crosses her features before her petite hand molds over my cock. I go still, raisin’ a brow at her. “The hell you doin’?”
Our gazes hold, both of us stubborn as fuck and unwillin’ to back down. This woman’s filled with a mass of contradictions. One minute, she exudes nothin’ but sweetness with Alma, and the next, she’s challengin’ me like her life’s not hangin’ in the balance.
Defiance gleams in her pretty eyes while her taunt holds a touch of huskiness. “I’m playing your game. Checking to see if you can be trusted to keep your mouth shut. To see if you’ll refrain from bragging about touching me.” A fake smile stretches her lips. “Because I certainly don’t trust a man with a tiny ponytail.”
With a cool smirk, my voice is low and filled with challenge. “You should know that my ponytail’s the only thing I’ve got that’s tiny.”
Irritation flashes in her eyes, but her response is to slowly stroke me. I glance down at my cock pressin’ against my black pants like it’s threatenin’ to bust free at any second.
Those inked butterflies trailin’ down her arm and along her hand flicker with each subtle movement, and I don’t make any move to stop her. Instead, I concentrate on raspin’ the pad of my thumb over her nipple.
Her lips part a split second before she mashes her mouth shut. But it’s too late. I know she’s not immune to my touch.
When I raise my other hand slowly—darin’ her to stop me—she doesn’t. Our gazes remain locked as I tug the bottom elastic of her sports bra up to reveal her breasts.
Fuck me. Whatever I might’ve imagined pales in comparison to reality. She’s real—none of that fake silicone shit—and her nipples taunt me, dark pink and beggin’ for my mouth. A strangled sound erupts from her when I sweep my thumb over the stiff flesh.
My words sound guttural to my own ears. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ sweet.”
For once, I don’t think. I just lift her by her waist and set her on the cleared portion of the island. Before she can respond, I’m between her spread thighs and lowerin’ my mouth to her bare tit. When I latch my lips around her nipple, she sucks in a sharp breath.
“Mm,” I murmur against her. “You gonna spill all sorts of secrets if I keep this up?” I bat at her nipple with my tongue and revel in how she grasps at my biceps and arches into my touch. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like it when I do this.”
“Not at all,” she says on an exhale. “In fact, I hate it.”
A startled grunt of a laugh escapes me, and I give her nipple a hard suck before releasin’ it abruptly.
“Don’t sound too convincin’ to me.” I raise my head, lockin’ eyes with her. Damn if she doesn’t intrigue the fuck out of me more and more.
My attention settles on her left breast, my eyes sweepin’ over her gorgeous skin covered in ink. The wings of those blue butterflies mold along the outer curve of her perfect tit, borderin’ her areola. I lower my head to press a kiss to the tight peak of her nipple. “Want me to stop?”
“Absolutely.”
I almost laugh out loud this time. Somethin’ I never do. She probably doesn’t realize her hand is back on my dick, and she’s strokin’ me through my pants again.
Fuck if I’ve got the will to stop her.
I wet a path around her dark areola with my tongue and murmur, “Before you stop, just wanna offer you a little somethin’ to hold on to.” I unfasten my pants and shove them and my boxer briefs down far enough to guide her hand to grip my bare cock.
A jolt shudders through me at her touch, wariness immediately chasin’ it. ’Cause I don’t get like this with any woman touchin’ my dick. It’s all for an end purpose.
But with Lola, goddamn if I’m not leakin’ at the tip already. Jonesin’ for her to do more than leisurely stroke me like she is. Wishin’ she’d jerk me off real good and firm.
The fuck am I doin’? Why am I drawn toward this woman?
Before I can pull back and get my head on straight, her fingers tighten around my shaft and a groan climbs up my throat. Instantly, all thoughts of stoppin’ are banished.
Her words hold a feisty edge when she says, “Before we stop, maybe we should get this ‘test’ out of the way.” One little finger brushes the underside of my dick, dustin’ over my tight sac.
“Think so?” I flick my tongue against her nipple, and she arches into my touch.
Her hand glides up and down my cock in thorough strokes. “Yeah.”
Her single, breathless response spurs me on. I suck on her nipples, intent on makin’ sure they stay wet and hard.
I give her leggin’s a rough yank, makin’ her shift on the island to let me tug them to her ankles. Nearly rippin’ them off her legs, I have to move my dick out of her reach, and she lets out a whimpered protest that has my balls drawin’ up even tighter.
The sight of her sittin’ on my kitchen island in her tiny pair of black cotton panties has my cock jerkin’. ’Cause that damp spot at the front tells me all I need to know.
Returnin’ between her spread thighs, I don’t hesitate in slidin’ my fingers beneath the edge of her panties. The moment my fingertips graze over her wet pussy, my cock leaks even more.
She lets out a little moan before her hand finds my dick once again, and she smooths her thumb over the precum gatherin’ at the tip. My forehead drops against hers, my breaths turnin’ harsh when I dip one finger inside her.
“Holy fuck,” I grit out. She’s so snug around my finger. Snug and wet and so damn hot.
“That doesn’t mean anything.” Her jaw tightens. “None of this does.”
I ignore her and glide my finger in and out of her. While my other hand toys with her nipple, I add another finger inside her pussy and can’t resist tauntin’ her. “Still wanna stop?”
“Definitely.”
With her forehead still against mine, she’s soakin’ my fingers. I’m impatient as fuck for her to come all over them.
When she tacks on, “You should stop right away,” in a breathless voice that belies her words, satisfaction strums through my veins.
“Yeah?” My voice shouldn’t sound so rough with lust. That’s not like me. It’s gotta be a fluke. Just like when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, it gives me the urge to taste ’em. “Gimme a minute, and I’ll stop.”
Her hand works me so good my eyes threaten to roll back in my head. But that mouth of hers with those parted lips makes me want shit I have no business wantin’. When her nipples tighten even more and her breathin’ goes jagged, I know she’s close.
Instead of usin’ my fuckin’ brain, I operate on my baser instincts and capture her mouth with mine. She hesitates a split second before lettin’ my tongue dive inside.
Goddamndoes she taste good. It almost makes me wonder if this is what I’ve been missin’ out on by not kissin’ the women I fuck.
Somethin’ tells me it’s only this particular woman with an addictive mouth. It pisses me the hell off, but I can’t be bothered enough to care right now.
I cradle the back of her head, steerin’ her so I can control the kiss, goin’ deeper while I fuck her with my fingers. I hook ’em, findin’ that spot guaranteed to make her cream all over me, and she doesn’t disappoint.
My mouth muffles her little sounds as I work her through her orgasm. Her pussy clutches my fingers so tight, she damn near cuts off my circulation.
Once she comes down from her high, I withdraw my fingers from her and slide one into my mouth. She watches me with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips as I suck her juices off my finger. Then I use the other that’s still coated in her cream and paint it over my cock.
Her attention is riveted to the shiny path along my dick, and her breath catches. When I close my hand around hers, guidin’ her to stroke me, to use her cum as lube, she doesn’t hesitate.
In fact, she uses her other hand to tease my balls and toy with the sensitive spot at the base. Her touch alone has need pulsin’ through me.
I press my cock against her hand, urgin’ her on. Our kiss turns messy, morphin’ into heavy breathin’ in between wet kisses and tongue strokes.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I pant against her mouth. “Gonna get you messy in a minute. You ready for that?” But she doesn’t respond with anythin’ aside from increasin’ the pace.
Plantin’ my hands on either side of her, I brace myself, ’cause my knees threaten to give out on me. I let her work my cock like a dream as she sends me over the edge. My vision turns spotty while I spill all over her hand and wrist, splatterin’ her bare stomach.
Our harsh breaths echo in the quiet kitchen, our damp foreheads restin’ against one another. Jesus Christ. Somethin’s fuckin’ wrong with me, ’cause my dick’s still amped up and wantin’ to get inside her. The way she came for me, the way her pussy strangled my fingers… Fuck.
I register the changes in her body in short increments. Her body stiffens, and she releases my cock before edgin’ away from me. “So?” Eyes averted, her voice is muted as she rips off paper towels from the nearby dispenser and cleans herself. “Think I passed your test?”
Her quiet words, spoken without an ounce of emotion, act like somebody’s just pistol-whipped me.
Sonofabitch. My answer is forced from between gritted teeth. “For now.”
I straighten, methodically tuckin’ myself back into my boxer briefs. While I fasten my pants, she jerks her sports bra down roughly, her chin liftin’ an obstinate notch.
Think I passed your test? Her question taunts the fuck out of me, her cool expression at odds with her appearance. ’Cause she’s sittin’ here with black panties that have an even bigger damp spot on the front.
Her ponytail’s a mess from me, and there’s a flush along her chest, those nipples still alert and beggin’ for more.
But she’s doin’ me a favor by shuttin’ this shit down. We’ve got no goddamn business screwin’ around like this.
She’s a colossal liability, and the last thing I need or want is to have my dick in a twist over someone like her.
Without takin’ my eyes off her, I slowly reach down and grab her leggin’s and toss them to her. Her steely glare remains pinned on me while she tugs them back on.
I retreat two steps and scrub a hand down my face. The fuck have I done?