Chapter 28
Efren
Malditas Ganas.
This woman. She’s undone me in ways I’ve never imagined.
For years, I envisioned what it would be like to have her, and now that I do, I want nothing more than to secure her place next to me forever.
Her face is half-buried in the pillow, facing away from me, her naked body tangled in the sheets.
The sun isn’t the only thing rising. My dick is rock hard and aching for this woman again.
Lowering the sheet, I take in the curve of her back and the small cursive writing that runs vertical down her spine.
Hija de la luna
Another small line tattoo of two small fish is above her elbow.
I trace each of them with steady fingers, as if her skin were made of glass.
The morning light creeps through the blinds, cutting across the sheets in narrow stripes.
The marks on my neck throb in rhythm with my pulse, a quiet reminder of how far she’s come and how far I’d let her go.
Last night was everything I’ve wanted. Each time she’s closer and closer to demanding what she wants in bed, and I’m prepared to fulfill every one of her commands. She could buy me a collar today, and I’d put it on and bark at her feet.
It was more than sex, though. This woman owned my heart, and when someone owns all those parts of you, it’s electrifying.
I’ll let her use me however she wants for lifetimes on end if that’s what she needs to find comfort in her rage.
Slowly, I press my lips to her shoulder and watch her body soften.
“Kitten,” I murmur, my voice rough from sleep. “We need to get back.”
She stirs, lashes fluttering before she opens her eyes.
“No quiero.” She groans.
“àndale, mija,” I whisper into her ear.
She tenses briefly, and I’m tempted to see if her body has woken with the same need as mine. I slide my hand down the sheet and cup her ass before sliding my fingers between her folds.
“Estàs cachonda?”
The smile she gives me over her shoulder is sinister. With little force, she rolls over and climbs on top of me. Her playfulness dies when she spots the marks she’s left on my chest.
“Oh my god, Efren. Did I do that?” She gasps.
I gasp for dramatic effect and look down. “Picasso! I like it,” I mock.
She rolls her eyes and moves to leave, but I hold her there.
“I loved every minute of last night. None of this surprised me. I wanted you to use me.”
“You wanted me to manhandle you?” she says, quirking a brow.
“I want you to do whatever feels best for you. I get off on your pleasure.”
“What if I decide I want you to manhandle me?” she asks.
I’m quick to move her, my strength and speed throwing her off guard as I flip her over and set her on all fours. She yelps when I pull her hair back and grind the top of my pelvis into her ass.
“Then we switch, Kitten. And I pound into this tight ass.”
Alma tenses, and I rub my hand over her ass then smack it lightly. She jolts forward, and I release her, then pull her back into me just before she falls.
“What if I want to stick my fingers up your ass?” she challenges.
“Then why not. I’m comfortable with my sexuality,” I reply.
“Which is?”
“I’m an A-l-m-a-sexual.” I smirk.
“You’re a-nnoying, is what you are.”
“I’m not one for labels like dominate or submissive, but I find pleasure in both roles and expect that in time you will too.” My tone is more serious than playful.
She turns her flushed face to me, but I can see a gleam of arousal in her eyes. “Do you have specific kinks that turn you on?”
“I have a breeding kink,” I confess.
“Excuse me?” Alma’s eyes widen.
“A breeding kink. It turns me on cumming inside you. Filling you up with my seed. Filling your womb with my babies.”
“Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I will be immediately DoorDashing a Plan B pill.”
“That’s fine, we can wait.” I shrug.
“We? Who said there was a ‘we’?”
“You’re right, Kitten. We’re more like one entity.”
“One what?” she laughs
“You know, like twin flames.” I smirk and wink at her.
“Oh God. Don’t say that.” She laughs and rolls her eyes.
_______
It’s a little past ten when Alma and I finally stop talking about everything from our zodiac signs to arguing about drink names for our fictional coffee shop.
We take turns showering, and I use the time she’s showering to my advantage.
Stealing the DoorDashed Plan B left on the doorstep, I chuck it into the neighbor’s trash.
I’m halfway back to the house when I hear the familiar rumble of an old truck. Turning, I see a crookedly parked truck with Bud in the driver’s seat. He takes his time getting out. I light a cigarette and wait for him to notice me.
“Mijo. I didn’t know you were coming to visit,” he says when he spots me on the front porch.
“I didn’t know I needed permission to come home.”
Bud nods and walks past me, entering the house. Flicking my cigarette, I follow to the kitchen. I look to the back room where I can hear Alma getting ready. Bud sets down a cardboard case that I’m sure is full of Coors Light before my eyes zoom in and read the label.
“Ensure,” Bud explains. “Doctor says I gotta keep the calories up somehow.”
I notice his drastic change of appearance. He seems weaker. There’s a yellow tinge to his eyes and a thinness to his skin. The man who used to down tacos and beer for breakfast looks like he’s been hollowed out.
“You look good, Mijo.” He observes me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Angela and I finally decided to sell the house.” He takes a drink of the Ensure, and I get second degree nausea from the face he makes. “I tried calling you, but you never answer the damn phone.”
“You know why I don’t answer the phone.” I reply.
I love Bud. Despite my anger towards him, I love him, and that’s why his keeping the truth about my real father from me felt like a betrayal.
“Why didn’t you just tell me about Patricio?” I ask.
“I wanted to. But I was selfish, son. I’m sorry.
” Bud’s eyes soften on me. “When I went to meet Patricio and tell him about you, something just felt wrong. There were rumors that his brother Ivan had killed his own wife, and later, I found out that he married his daughter Thalia off at sixteen years old. The whole family was nothing but lies and scandals. You were better off with us. That family is fucking cursed.”
Bud looks so tired and fragile. It breaks something in me. Bud has always been strong. The same man who taught Esteban and I to hone our emotions is wiping away the moisture building in his eyes.
He turns to wash his hands, and I don’t push him anymore. I’ve sat in my anger long enough and have come to the same conclusion about the Consuelos and my biological father: they’re cursed. Before I can say anything, Alma’s voice floats down the hallway.
“Efren? Did my DoorDash—” She stops when she sees Bud turning at the sound of her voice.
“Bud? Oh hi. Como estás?”
If Bud is surprised, I don’t see it on his face. He moves to embrace her in a bear hug, the way he always has.
“How’ve you been, mija? Have you two ate anything? I can order a pizza.”
Alma’s eyes shift to mine. I know she sees what I see, but I also know how uncomfortable this may be considering everything she found out about Esteban.
“We have to get back on the road,” I say harshly.
Music plays from Alma’s phone, interrupting what would have turned into awkward silence.
“It’s my job,” she says, holding up her phone. “It was really nice seeing you, Bud.”
“Igualmente.” Bud smiles and waits until the door shuts behind her and turns to me. “If that’s the reason why you’ve been avoiding me, just know I’d understand. We all deserve to be happy.”
“Bud. What’s going on?” I watch his face sour as he slurps down more of the protein shake.
“This tastes like shit.” He takes off his hat, revealing his bald head underneath.
“Pa? Are you sick?”
Bud doesn’t answer right away. He throws the shake in the trash, opens the fridge to take out a bottle of water, and chugs it. When he turns to face me, I can see his face softening.
“Doctors say it’s my liver.”
“Your liver?” My voice drops.
He nods once. “Cancer.”
For a long beat, all I hear is the hum of the fridge and the faint sound of Alma talking on the phone outside. I look at Bud again. The anger’s still there, buried deep, but guilt’s already bleeding through it.
“You should’ve told me.”
He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d care.”
“Of course I’d care. Listen, I was mad about you keeping the truth from me, but I’ve been watching this family, and I see it now. Their wealth isn’t a privilege, you’re right, it’s a curse. Everything they touch is tainted. I hate that I share DNA with them.”
“Then leave! Come with me, mijo. You and Alma. Come with me to Corpus Cristi. I got a sister there. She can help you find a job.” His eyes say what his pride won’t.
I need you.
When he wraps his arms around me, I don’t pull away. Bud Nevarez is a simple man with faults of his own, but he is more of a father to me than Patricio Consuelo ever will be.