Page 35 of Trapped

“Aurelio thought something bad would happen to me. That your family would blame me and retaliate. Then, when we found out the bus had been bombed, we thought you were dead. I hid from my father for months until I couldn’t hide anymore. When I went back, he punished me for taking your side.” Silas’s fingers freeze on the scar.

“Your dad did this to you?” His eyes stare into mine, his question laced with anger.

“The horse whip he used on me did.” My eyes close, and I can still feel the pain. His fingers rub over the scar, and he kisses the top of my head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t look for you.” His quiet expression causes my heart to harden. Tears pull at my heart’s profound confession.

“I’ve had a lot of time to mourn you, Silas, and a lot of time to heal. I was so young and wouldn’t have survived a marriageat seventeen years old. Living without you was painful, but I needed the experiences to figure out who I was.”

My tears fall freely down my face. I had mourned for that young girl over and over again, trying to understand life and all its injustices was the cruelest part of the human experience. I close my eyes and pull those barriers back up around the confines of my heart. That is the only way I can survive these vulnerable emotions that threaten me at his rejection. I pull away and stare at him. There’s a roaring in my ears as heat rises in my body.

“Why didn’t you come back for me?” I try to push away, but Silas grabs my wrist. His dark eyes plead with mine.

“Everyone around me told me to leave you alone, Thalia. Don’t forget, I was young and naïve, too. I thought if I looked for you, then I would be trapping you into a marriage with me. You were always meant to be something more than just someone’s wife.”

Tears pour down my face, but these are different. They’re hot, and they burn as they fall down my cheeks. I hate his excuses. I hate the way he was so easily convinced that I would survive. They all fall flat against the barriers around my heart. My hurt and anger work together until forming a satisfying plan—one that puts him on his knees and crawling.

He tilts my head up and presses his lips to mine. I keep my heart guarded and kiss him back. It’s slow and sensual. His tongue finds mine, and he devours me. He licks at my tears and holds my head to his. Even when the kiss is over, he continues to hold me close to him.

He lets his white flag wave, and I let my body surrender to him. We both surrender to the same need. What we’ve wanted all this time. Each other. However, this time, when it is all said and done, I will be the one to leave him lost and all alone.

I watch Thalia sleep next to me. She fell asleep in one of my oversized shirts. Her bare legs stretch out across the bed. Everything about this woman is sexy, but her long legs are a personal weakness. My mouth waters in anticipation. The sweetness between her thighs is the only thing I want to eat or drink for the rest of eternity.

I couldn’t sleep all night, thinking of the way her mood had changed last night. I want her to feel safe with me. I’ll play out all her fantasies and humiliation kink, but I need her to know, behind closed doors, and during aftercare, that she is safe with me. She can trust me. Fuck, if anything, I hold her on a fucking pedestal.

I couldn’t answer her question last night about missing her. I saw how her mood shifted afterward. The truth is, I didn’t know how to answer her without feeling frustrated with myself about the answers. I hated the way they came across as excuses. Excuses are for weak people. Weak people, like me, at eighteen years old. I did miss her. I missed her so much I was reckless andwilling to go to any extreme to find her. After I lost my father, she was all I had. Claudia took my siblings, and my mother was hiding out. I understood what she meant when she said she was young and naïve. I was, too.

When everyone told me to leave her alone, I challenged them, but I stopped fighting it. I had convinced myself that if I pursued her, I would only be trapping her into a marriage with me. I don’t think either of us would be where we are, had the time and distance not given the opportunity to grow. She was always meant to be something more. Why provide her excuses when I don’t fully regret it?

I lean down and slowly move the fabric of her shirt up. I pepper kisses over her stomach and savor the soft skin.

“Silas…” she groans. Her fingers thread through my hair, and I kiss her lower. And lower. Until I reach her bare pussy. I press my lips to hers and run my tongue across her clit. She squirms at the delicate touch. I let out a small laugh against her folds before I look up at her waking face.

“Good morning, diablita.” She lifts her head and groans before dramatically letting it fall back onto her pillow. Her legs have a different idea as they fall wide. I lower my face and dive in.

She tightens her grip on my hair as I eat her soaking cunt. She comes undone, and I savor every drop of her, my tongue moving from the back to the front. Over and over. I nibble on her clit, and her legs squeeze against my head. I thrust my tongue into her hole and fuck her until we both become delirious. The taste is so sweet I can’t get enough. I want to dive in deeper. Lifting her ass up off the bed, I push my tongue back in. The taste is too sweet. Raw and carnal desire takes over as I eat her pussy like a ripe watermelon. Lapping up her sweet juices. She yanks my hair up and bucks against my hold. When she screams my name, the wild rush of her orgasm hits my tongue. She falls to the bed, and I continue to lick her clean until I’m satiated.

I crash beside her as she stares up at the ceiling. We both lay there and catch our breath before she finally looks at me.

“God, that was fucking amazing,” she says through shallow breaths.

“Mmmm, ten out of ten,” I say as I lick my lips to savor her remaining arousal on me. She rolls her eyes.

“Have you always been a sadist?” she asks.

“I’m whatever my wife wants me to be.” She tenses at the word. Just like she does every fucking time. I grab her throat in a possessive hold.

“You are my wife, Thalia. You are mine.” Her eyes bulge, and her body struggles as I cut off her oxygen supply. I release her, and she glares at me as she catches her breath. She walks into the bathroom, but not before gracing me with her new favorite phrase.

“I fucking hate you.”

This hija de la—I go to follow her into the bathroom, but the door handle doesn’t turn.

“Open the door!” I yell.

“Fuck you!” she yells back. How this woman can make me feel a range of emotions in the span of ten minutes is nauseating. This morning, I wanted to put her on a pedestal. Now, I want to bury her stubborn ass in the backyard. My fist pounds on the door.

“Go away!” she yells. I lift my foot and use all my strength as I slam it into the door. The door flings open and hangs from the hinges. Thalia sits unphased on the side of the tub. She gives me a smug smirk before she lifts her middle finger.

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