15. Maricela
When I decided to go back to New York, I never thought I would be lying utterly naked on his desk.
If someone had told me this a few weeks ago, I would have ignored them. That has been my specialty for the past four years.
Ignoring my pain, my feelings, the catastrophes before my eyes time and time again.
This time, I can’t manage it. I can’t ignore this man, his touch on his cock, the tormented look I’m responsible for. I can’t ignore it, and I can’t run away.
He asked me to say his name, but I can’t. If I give the man in front of me this little power over me and say the name of the man who hurt me in the gentlest of ways, I’ll break, and I can’t afford to.
“Don’t move,” he says.
No, he orders like the king he’s become—the crime king of the underworld—as I try to turn my head so I can see his cock.
The piercing is still there, and now I want to feel it on my tongue, the iron that was always so warm and smooth.
Say his name, at least in your head, Maricela.
But I can’t. The desire to protect myself is stronger than anything.
I don’t know how I missed it, but the whip with the black braid made of leather strikes me where I’m most sensitive.
My pussy is on fire. I can’t reach the outlet point because I’m not allowed to. I can give him this power over me. He has always known how to control my body in the best way.
“I’m going to hurt you even more now.”
He comes closer to me and pulls my nipple to the point that I scream. I can’t stop. It hurts so much. This pain is a pain I can handle. It doesn’t involve my emotions. I’m here because I want to be here, under his control.
His. His. Say his damn name, you coward.
The voice that refused to appear for four years returns to my head only to accuse me. The little girl in me is right. I’m Maricela Fernandez, a coward.
“Say my name,” he demands again, but all I can do is shake my head and arch my back for him to bring me to the edge so I won’t be able to feel.
He. He. What is his name, Maricela? the voice demands.
Say his name. Nothing.
Another and another strike to my skin. He does it mercilessly. Another pull of my nipple with his teeth. I let him win at least one war as I let another tear and another fall.
The heat of the tears is so foreign to me that I forget what he does to me for a moment. My hand seems to be searching alone for the wayward tears.
“Cry, Little Girl. Break for me. I’m here.”
I can’t give you that power. I scream in my head so hard I’m almost sure he hears me. He continues to touch me.
This time, the hand holding the cruel toy goes down to my lower abdomen and smacks me there. I’m almost done for. Fuck, I’m about to come.
“I— Stop! I almost—”
I immediately lose the warmth of his body and try without success to regulate my breathing, inhaling and exhaling so his touch will return. His merciless brand of torture.
I know I won’t get what I so desperately need. Coming isn’t an option, yet the need to give him something to satisfy him is there. It’s a need I always had, even when we played our stupid games, even when he was my bully. I wonder who we are now.
“I need you to tell me something.”
This time, he asks, his tone gentle. I don’t understand where he’s going. I thought he would get all the poison out of me through pain, but the last thing I expected was that he would want to talk to me while he was touching his cock.
Down and up, just like the first time, only this time, the arrogance is not here. He no longer needs it.
He. He. He. Say his name.
“What do you want to hear?” I pant the words.
“Whatever you feel like telling me. I missed four years of your life, Maricela.”
“And I missed four years of your life, too.” I don’t expect him to tell me anything more, but he does.
“I’ll start. I rescued my brother.”
“I didn’t know you had another brother.” He sees the lie on my face, reminding me of the old days, the brighter days. “Fine, I did know. Your da— Your father wasn’t good at covering his tracks.”
“You can say that again. Maddox is the son of one of the prostitutes Franco used to fuck.” The monster’s name almost makes me jump off the table and run away, but my desire to hear his brother’s story stops me.
“I know about him getting sent to prison. But can you tell me about him?”
He does, telling me everything, every little thing. He practically makes me the keeper of his secrets.
A small rumble of voices comes from beyond the office door, reminding me what I’m doing here, what he’s doing here. It’s strange, but I forget everything when I’m with him, even the monster that tore my skin.
“Maddox is someone much easier to love than someone like me.”
I want to stop Killian and tell him it’s not true, but I don’t. After all, I still haven’t given him what he wants most.
“He’s amusing, and despite everything he went through in prison and everything Franco did to him when we were kids, Maddox sees life as a bad joke. He fucks anything that has a pulse, and he’s my best friend.”
“I thought Liam was.”
“Liam and Kai have another place in my life. I’d die for them, and they’d die for me. But Maddox didn’t have to stay by my side. No brotherhood kept him tied to me. He could have continued living with his mother and received the money Franco sent them monthly, but he stayed by me.”
The man beside me laughs, a bitter laugh I want to amend, but I don’t have the right to do it. He doesn’t know everything. I don’t think I could handle his hatred if he knew because hate is the only thing I deserve after what I did.
“Now it’s your turn,” he says.
“I have no stories of friendships, and all my adventures are painted in blood,” I confess to him, almost ashamed.
“They’re not painted with blood. They’re painted with bravery.”
He decides because he—the man whose name I refuse to say—has always seen the best in me. He never wanted to see the true evil that lurked in my soul.
“Still, tell me something, even if it hurts.” For some reason, I think this is his goal.
“Colombia was the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. The forests are magnificent, and the simple people are amazing and warm. There was a girl there who was looking for her father. The cartels had kidnapped him. She claimed they said he owed them money.”
“Go on. You talking about another mafia won’t make me mad.”
“This girl, her name was Camila. She danced like an angel. Life was difficult for her, and if she had other opportunities, she would probably have become a successful dancer.”
I don’t want to tell him what happened next, that I failed to save her from her decision to save her father.
“But?” The word makes me jump in my place on the desk.
“The ending isn’t good,” I confess.
“I can imagine. You don’t have to tell me.”
But I want everyone to know her story. Her disaster. She deserves that. He deserves to know your disaster, too. The voice in my head is gentle this time.
“She chose to sell herself in exchange for her father’s life. The man didn’t survive the grief and died shortly after. Miriam and I failed to find her, although we contacted the authorities.”
“The authorities don’t do much in situations like that.”
“You know that better than anyone, I guess.”
“Yes, I use the authorities like the people in Colombia do, only I do it in a more civilized manner. The game I play is different and less noticeable compared to those of the cartels. They can afford much more blatant violence.”
“But you both do the same things.”
His hand moves on his cock, and I see it leaking. Painting the tip of the piercing that always touches his flesh. I want to taste it. I need it on my tongue.
He notices. Of course, he does.
“Eventually, yes.”
He approaches me, this time from the edge of the desk so that his gaze is aimed at my pussy.
“At the end of the day, I might be an even bigger monster than the cartel.”
He opens my legs, spreading them wide, staring at my pussy. Two thick fingers penetrate me without mercy or preparation.
“Kil—” I almost say his name for the second time today.
“Yes, Maricela.” I let my eyes roll as he folds his fingers into the spot where I’m throbbing.
“You wanted to say something, Little Girl?”
His little girl. He always saw me as a good, na?ve thing. I’m everything but.
“It hurts.”
“But you like pain. You thrive on it. It means we are alive, remember?”
The pain you give me. Only the pain that comes from you.
My body dances according to the rhythm he dictates. He doesn’t feel sorry for me, doesn’t stop when I scream, and if he continues like this, I won’t be able to control the orgasm.
“I’m coming. Fuck... Please...”
“No, you’re not.”
He pulls his fingers out of me all at once, and my walls close in on themselves as I cry.
“I can’t. No more.” I beg him to let me go, never stop, give me a break.
“You can, and you will.”
He smacks me again, making me scream.
“Say my name, and everything stops.”
“Please, please, please,” I beg repeatedly, not knowing what I’m truly begging for.
“Fine.”
He smacks my nipples over and over and over, ignoring my pleas.
“I’m going to come on you, and you’re going to walk around here with my scent on your skin under your clothes. You’re not going to shower without my permission, and you’re not going to touch yourself.”
He starts rubbing his cock almost violently. “Little Girl, you’re going to be the death of me.” It’s not what I want, but I don’t say that. I just watch his cock twitch under his rough fingers, fingers I always loved so much.
No. I can’t love him again.
“I’m coming,” he announces and pours himself onto my skin. If I could move, I would probably come in an instant. He licks part of himself from my skin, only to bring his lips to mine and kiss me.
“You’re perfect,” he purrs.
His touch on my skin leaves me breathless in the best way. His taste on my lips makes me forget everything I was supposed to be running from.
Running away was the most innovative solution four years ago. I wasn’t in a position where I could face my past, face my present, and to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough, to tell the truth. I can’t even say it in my head.
In these four years, I have seen many victims. I know I’m one of them.
His lips are so soft they hurt more than anything he did to me.
“Little Girl...” he whispers into my mouth, my skin. “What am I going to do with you?”
I don’t know, I scream in my head.
“I’m not done with you.”
His cock catches my eye, causing him to burst into laughter. I missed that laugh. I can admit that to myself. His laugh was always rare for anyone to hear, but I heard it.
With my blunt words and my restlessness, I managed to make him laugh. I made him laugh when he ran after me in the hallways of the university just days before what happened. I made him laugh when I destroyed his football shirt.
And now I make him laugh again. The sound is warm and low, just what my broken soul is looking for.
“He’ll come to life for you whenever you want. He’s your slave, Little Girl.”
He’s talking about his dick. Because, of course, he’s talking about his dick.
“Okay.” Okay? Is that all I have to say to him?
He smirks, taking a step closer to wrap me in his huge arms.
I let him. I let the familiar scent of mint and musk surround me before I ask, “Is this why you brought me here?”
“I don’t understand.” He sounds confused.
“For sex,” I clarify.
“No. Well, not just for sex. My secretary is old, and I need someone to keep everything in order.”
I almost remind him that I’m not the right person to keep order in any way, but he continues.
“I know you’re not the most organized person in the world.”
That’s one way to describe the chaos in my room. “But I won’t dare ask you to sort or clean things out. I need you to make sure all the customers are answered on time.”
“I can do that.” He grins. I’m in big fucking trouble.
“Ms. Lila, you can’t go in. He’s in there with...”
Killian heaves a heavy sigh.
“I can’t go on like this. I’ll see my fiancée,” she yells, and a moment later, a beautiful woman enters the office like a storm blowing in, disturbing the peace we had. To ensure she can’t see me and my naked body, I relocate from Killian to stand next to the cross.
“Why? We’re going to be married, you know that. I love you, Killian. I’ve been a good girlfriend to you, and I’ll be an even better wife. That brut can’t be your anything.”
“I need her destroyed. And she isn’t one to break just like that.”
“I can help you with that.”
“No. I need to take care of her myself.”
“By fucking her?”
“Think. What will break someone strong like her? She doesn’t care about your bullshit. About anyone’s bullshit. No matter what I’ve done to her, she didn’t break down. If she falls for me, she’ll break.”
“Fine. I’ll give you until the end of this school year. Now show me how much you love me.”
“It’s okay, Bertha. You can go.”
All the humor in his voice disappeared as a woman with red curls stands before Killian as if he belongs to her.
She’s changed, but not like I did. Her hair isn’t straight anymore. Now, it’s full of tiny curls that frame her beautiful face. Even when angry, Lila Knight is lovely—a future queen.
“What do you want, Lila?”
“Are you for real, Killian? Are you fucking someone in here? You know what I want. My freedom! You don’t want to marry me. You don’t want to fuck me, you don’t want me at all, so let me go. I’ve paid my dues.”
“You’re speaking to your capo,” he barks, making me jump.
“And I didn’t sign for that.” She pauses, and I hear a gasp.
“What is that thing behind you? You bring whores into your office but refuse to fuck me?”
Her words become inaudible as she stares at the kink display he arranged here for his whore. Then her eyes fall on mine.
Lila takes a step back as if seeing a ghost. On some level, she has. Her actions made me one.
“What...? Why...?”
I gather my shirt from the floor, pulling it over my sticky skin while searching for my pants and knowing for a fact that my ass is in her face.
“How?” I mock her because I can, as I pull the pants on. Because I let myself feel all the things she deserves.
“You told me that she was... You–you bitch! My life was ruined because of you. I’m going to kill you,” she roars.
I prepare myself for the strike against my face, but it doesn’t come. His unique aroma is here, shielding me.
His fist is wrapped around her hand, and a visceral need overtakes my reasoning. I need his hands off her.
Fuck, I need him to be here for me, to break me to pieces, to rearrange me. He doesn’t, waking up an old feeling of rage.
“Look, Lila,” I start, her name leaking from me like a poison, “I don’t have to tolerate your tantrums. You lied to me once, and I believed you. I might be broken, but I’m still the bitch from the streets. And you know what they say. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice and all that jazz.”
What I would give to be taller than her right now.
“I’ll be with Bertha. Control your puma, and then come and fuck me. Kisses, sweetie.”
I exit the office, proud of myself, believing there’s still hope for me. And hope is dangerous, hope is accelerating, hope is all I fucking have at this point.
But my hope was shattered when I waited more than a few minutes outside the door, and Lila didn’t leave the office where I gave myself to this man.
Yet again, I’m left behind.