Page 30 of Trapped

Los Reyes de Tamaulipas were not willing to look the other way. Aurelio was placed in the middle, forced to pick between his family and his wife’s family. He bought the Consuelo family’s immunity by promising retaliation and with the head of Ivan Consuelo. The look in Ivan’s eyes at the sight of me was worth the time I had to wait. The moments I suffered alone. I smiled as his blood covered my hands. I laughed as I tortured him for days. I was filled with joy as he cried out and begged me for mercy.

Ivan thought he had gained the upper hand in killing my father, but he didn’t realize divine intervention was working against him. His failed plan had set me up to go further than my father had ever intended me to go. I wore our last name like a gold medal. I not only secured my place in the cartel, but I also formed an alliance with one of the most powerful motorcycle gangs known to the West Coast. I am back from the dead, and I am going to take back everything that I lost. Including my wife.

The morning after getting fucked in the graveyard, Silas woke up early and undid the cuffs. He showered me and then put me in another pair of tights, with a matching bra and panties. He didn’t touch me, though. Not in the way I was anticipating.

My body is still going through withdrawals from the way he spit in my mouth and fucked me with the barrel of his gun. I know I have fantasies that are not common to other women, but I never expected them to ever play out. Fuck, I didn’t even know what kinks were beneath the surface. Gunplay definitely makes the list.

I bite down on my lip as I watch Silas get dressed. He’s wearing tight jeans that illuminate that round ass of his, a black tee, black cowboy boots, and a black baseball cap. I notice the rooster patch, and the small lettering reads, “Cock.” I look at the bulge in his jeans, then quickly look away before he catches me.Alexa, add cowboy porn to my watchlist.

Silas sprays himself with cologne, and my hands grip the comforter tight.

“Going somewhere, hubby?” I let the green venom coursing through me take aim. He turns and arches a brow. He moves across the room and bends down to kiss me, but I turn my cheek. Rough hands squeeze my cheeks, and he forces his mouth to mine.

“I have work to do,” he says.

“And what am I supposed to do while you go to work?”

“Cook, clean, wait for Daddy to come home.” He winks, and my thighs squeeze together. I let out a harsh breath. It doesn’t help that he towers over me in height. I cross my arms and lift my chin.

“The fuck I will, Silas. You can’t turn a whore into a housewife.”

“I can if the whore belongs to me.”

My smirk falls, and I roll my eyes. This motherfucker has a way of riling me up. I am a master at pushing people’s buttons, but Silas has no fucking buttons.

“I’m not your property, Silas.”

“You are whatever the fuck I say you are.” The same large hands that had squeezed my cheeks wrap around my neck. My airflow diminishes with the pressure. He leans in, and his hot breath sends electricity to my core.

“There are armed men outside the house and spread across the entire property. If you so much as step a foot outside of this house, they will find you, and I will fuck that tight ass of yours in front of every single one of them.” He releases me, and I fall back, catching myself on the bedpost.

“So fucking romantic.” I rub my neck. His rough touch lingers there, and I can feel the heat accumulating between my thighs. I should just throw my feminism in the dumpster right now. This man is fucking me the way I’ve always wanted someone to. I wouldn’t call him a Casanova. But who wants a Casanova whenyou could have orgasms like that? His dark, demon-possessed eyes study mine.

“Tell the truth and shame the devil, mija. Are you wet for me?” He reaches down the front of my panties to confirm his own suspicions. He swirls his middle finger around my clit, then fills me with the digit. His mouth lowers to mine, and he growls into me.

“So fucking wet for me.” He adds another finger and fucks my pussy. I arch my back against the bedpost, and he thrusts harder. I feel those tornadoes building in my core. I hold on to the bed, desperate for release. He removes his finger, and my neck stiffens. My eyes shoot to his, pleading, but he has that sinister look again. He brings his fingers to my lips and paints them with my arousal.

“Don’t act like I don’t still give you butterflies.”

“You never gave me butterflies, Silas. Those werecucarachas. You infested my soul with your bullshit.” He licks his fingers clean, then lets out a loud laugh. He walks toward the door, and the moment he is out of sight, I grab my suitcase. I scour it with one goal in mind:find my hammer.

The first day Silas didn’t come home, I felt relieved. I didn’t have to confront the battle that was being waged between my head and my heart. The day he left, I wasn’t in the house alone long before an older woman arrived. She introduced herself as Veronica, but insisted I call her Vero. She was quiet at first, and when I asked her about using her cell phone, she gave me a stern face. I bit down on my tongue, only because winning her over would be my only chance at escaping.

“Señora Macias,” she calls from the kitchen, and I grimace at the name.

“You’re a Macias now.”

I push the memory far from the war that has been waging inside me since the moment I saw his face again. Years of delusion about what our lives would have been were the weapons my heart was using against my mind. That and the fact my vagina had joined as a loyal ally.

Vero calls again, and when I reach the kitchen, I can already smell the fresh tortillas. On a plate are scrambled eggs and homemade beans. Vero steps out of the sliding door and plucks a fresh avocado. I hadn’t been to Mexico since I was a little girl, and I had forgotten the nostalgic feeling of being on my ancestral land.

I peer out the window at the expansive land that surrounds the home. I know the graveyard sits to the right side, and to the left, I see the animals and the farm stretching far beyond my view. Vero told me she has been attending to the house for the last year and had given me a private tour.

Most of the rooms in the house are empty. I let my mind play and dream up ideas for what I would do with each room. Daydreaming is not dangerous. Succumbing to the delusions of what ifs, though, would be. The home is big, but it also feels lonely. Day three without Silas makes my heart weary.

I need to find a way to contact my family. I miss them. Despite my fucked up inability to empathize with them, I still love them. I still need them in my life. I will apologize for my behavior at the party and beg at their feet if I have to.Okay, scratch the begging part.Thalia Consuelo bows to no one.

The lonely days here at the gothic ranch are starting to take a toll on me. I pace the house, plotting Silas’s murder. Do you know the types of thoughts a mentally unstable bad bitch can conjure when in a weakened state? I have all but convincedmyself Silas has another family he is attending to. That isn’t uncommon in Mexico.

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