Page 20 of Trapped

He ignores me and turns toward the gas pump. Stubborn asshole. I walk toward the gas station. The bottom part of my dress had been shredded, leaving only a small amount of fabric that barely covers my ass. The woman at the counter doesn’t even acknowledge me when I walk in. It’s two twenty-two a.m. What a convenient fucking time to see an angel number. I grab a box of tampons before I realize I left my phone and purse behind at the hotel. All I have is Selena.

I could rob the woman, but judging by the amount of cat hair accumulating on her vest and the way she’s smelling her used dental flosser, I would bet she doesn’t give two fucks about what I steal. I grab a box of tampons, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, tweezers, and paper towels. My options are limited. I’m scanning the remaining medical supplies when the door chimes and that familiar pressure hits my backside. I turn to face him, and his eyes roam over the supplies in my hand. He grabs me and drags me into the bathroom with him.

He locks the door behind us and stalks toward me. I don’t fight him when he presses me up against the wall and cages me in. I don’t ask him to take the mask off. I don’t question the thrill rising in me or the throbbing at my center. I just stare into hiseyes. They are as dark as the pits of hell. The whole world feels still around us.

I watch his shallow breaths, and it takes everything in me to unlock my eyes from his. Blood drips from his shoulder.

“We need to stop the bleeding.”

Slowly, I set down the supplies in my hand and reach out toward the wound. He grabs my hand in his. A strong hand, with a skull tattoo on the front and fingers adorned with skull rings.

“We need to stop the bleeding,” I repeat.

He stares at me for a moment before releasing my hand, trembling at the lapels of his suit. We work together to remove his coat before I fumble with the buttons of his dress shirt. More tattoos spread across his chest and stomach. Not an inch of him untouched by ink. Large writing sprawls across his upper chest.Dulce Periculum.

I recognize the saying. Members of Los Peregrinos have the phrase tattoed on them. Some have it painted on their bikes. I want to run my fingers along the words. Engrave them into my memory. But I need to focus.

“I need to take the bullet out.” He nods, and I use the long tip of my nail to dig into him. Blood coats my finger, and I work my nail inside the gaping wound until I find it. He lets out a groan as I remove the bullet. It’s the first time I’ve had even a small taste of his voice.

I clean his wound the best I can before shoving the tampon inside it. Tampax has saved more narco’s lives than Jesus ever did. He makes a sound of discomfort. I use his white undershirt and tear it to make a tight bandage. Goosebumps run down my arms as my nails dance across his tan skin. Even the sight of his blood does something strange to me. The thought of him searching for me when death was hot on my heels. Even if we were allies, Los Peregrinos doesn’t owe my family that type of loyalty.

“How can I thank you for saving my life?”

He lifts my thigh up to his hip and runs his hand over my bare ass. The touch is delicate and lingers. A moan escapes me. He grabs my gun and throws it across the room. Then he forces me onto my knees. Strong hands grip my hair at the crown as he forces me to look up at him. Into those midnight eyes. Into the depths of the dark pool I so desperately want to dive into.

He opens my mouth with his middle and ring finger, then shoves them into the back of my throat. I gag at the hostility of it, but that strange feeling returns. He eases the pressure on the back of my throat, and I wrap my lips around his fingers and suck.

When he removes them, I panic in desperation. I reach for his belt, desperate to taste him, to know the feel of him. I unbuckle his pants and bring them down. The outline of his dick beneath his briefs makes me rabid. I break it free from its confines and look up to see his face. He’s staring down at me. I turn my attention back to the monster in front of me. His dick is big. The veins are protruding, and a barbell piercing sticks out from the bottom of his shaft. Another piercing is placed at the head.Madre Santa.

I’m not sure if this thing will fit in my mouth. He grips my hair harder, and I close my eyes. Here goes nothing. He forces entry, and I hollow my cheeks. When he slams into me, I feel the cold tip of his piercing hit the back of my throat. In and out, he pumps himself across my tongue. Saliva builds with each rough thrust into me. Air escapes me, and tears fall from the corners of my eyes. It’s rough. It’s barbaric. And fuck, it’s so liberating.

My body rocks with the motion. My pussy throbs, and wetness gathers when I look up to see him staring at me. My thighs rub together, and it’s just enough friction on my clit that I can feel the orgasm building. Small tornadoes form in the pit of my belly. I take his hard thrusts and move my fingers to my core. Hisgrowls of pleasure have me moaning around his cock. I suck it harder, squeezing my hands tight around the base. I’m desperate for his voice, drunk on the way he’s coming undone for me.

Fuck my mouth!

Take me like the slut I am.

Your slut.

Every dirty thought is on repeat in my mind. He’s thrusting into me harder as I slide my fingers into my pussy. When my body reaches the top of that euphoric mountain, I free fall with him as our orgasms burst through. Two violent tornadoes, joining and touching down to cause destruction. I moan around his cock as the warm and salty taste of his cum fills my mouth. He pulls out and pushes me back. I close my eyes and let myself fall to the ground, high on the way he used me. I catch my breath, and when I open my eyes again, he’s moving toward the door. Then he’s gone.

I don’t bother removing my clothes before sinking into the bath. I had been overstimulated and underfucked. Of course, I would come apart at a masked man fucking my mouth. I roll a blunt while the water runs in the background. The last twenty-four hours of my life had been eventful, to say the least. I almost had my head blown off, had my throat fucked, and was left sobbing on the floor of a crusty bathroom in the middle of nowhere. Fun times.

What wasn’t fun was having to call Enrique to pick me up. I had to recount the events of the night, leaving out the cock sucking, of course. He would reach out to Los Peregrinos today to see what they know about the events that transpired last night.

I bring the blunt to my mouth and suck in the sweet taste. I exhale in satisfaction. My throat is still sore, and I like that it is. I felt used and humiliated after he left me on the bathroom floor, yet ironically, I am still eager for more of him. Even now, my pussy throbs at the thought of him. It was everything I wanted. I had never experienced sex like that.

I lower myself into the tub and let the hot water soothe every ache. I grab my phone from the side of the tub and open it to my last Google search. I had been searching for clown kinks to see if I was really that deranged. Turns out I am. I’ll need to check that box at my next psych eval. I type in the words tattooed to Silas’s chest into the search bar.Dulce Periculum.Danger is sweet.

Yes, it is.As much as I hate Prince Uncharming for leaving me, I would be lying to myself if I said I’m not counting down the days until I see him again. Something about the mask causes me to feel more vulnerable, more willing to be used. It is a barrier for my thoughts. I struggle to not want every man to be Silas. Looking at their faces displeases me to the point I can’t cum or orgasm. The mask, though, is the perfect solution.

I need sex like a fish needs water, and this is the type of sex I long for. This raw, rough exchange. No face. Just me getting used like a slut; no expectation of intimacy blocking my arousal. I can’t do the intimacy of it. Even when I agree to hook ups or have friends with benefits. I still have to look at their faces. I can’t do it. Not when my heart was buried with Silas. Love died for me the day he died.

My attempts to relax are ruined when I hear the banging on my door.

“Thalia Isabel Consuelo! ¡Abre la pinche puerta!” Fuck. I know that voice, and I can only imagine what she wants. I take another drag of the blunt, then slowly remove myself from the water. When I open the door, Olivia stands there raging before me. Her green eyes are not their normal light color. There are no specksof brown illuminating her light features or her bright smile. Nope, not today. Today, they are dark green, full of fury, and glaring right at me.

“Are you smoking marijuana?” Her eyes narrow, and she takes in a deep breath. If she’s worried about me, she doesn’t show it. The woman stands a foot shorter than me, but has a gift of making anyone feel three feet below her.

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