Page 19 of Punished

“Una diosa.” He moves back into me and presses his lips into mine. He kisses me savagely, biting on my lips and wrapping my hair into his fist. I can feel his hardness through his sweatpants; his thickness grinding into me.

He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around him as he walks to his bedroom. He continues to devour my mouth. His hands holding my ass, squeezing me into him. My hands wander to the back of his head as I push myself deeper into the kiss. He bites my lips and moves to my neck. I dig my nails into him as he sucks hard on the sensitive flesh. He drops me onto the bed, and I push myself back onto my elbows, watching the fire in his eyes consume me.

“Get on all fours.” My nipples harden at the command. I do as he says and get on all fours as I face the headboard. He strokes a hand over my pussy. The thin material of my panties is soaked. When I feel a sharp sting, I catch myself from falling forward. I don’t have time to register it before I feel it again. Another gentle caress, followed by a hard slap to my ass. He repeats the motion as I cry out. The pain mixed with pleasure taking over me. Again and again. I push my ass back, needing more, as my clit throbs for his touch.

“You’re such a naughty girl. Do I need to punish you more, or do you think you learned your lesson?” His hand stops and lingers over my ass as he caresses me. When I don’t answer, he strikes again, harder, and the slap echoes in the room.

“Punish me!” I cry out through the pain, needing more. My body rocks back and forth, desperate to meet the sting of his hand, my clit pulsing with each caress. Over and over again, before my thighs clench, and I’m screaming into the pillows as the orgasm slams into me, my body set on fire and blazing through the depths of my soul.

He turns me around and stares at me as I let the flame of my orgasm die down, his body hungry with desire. He drops to his knees and pulls my legs to the end of the bed. In one motion, he rips off my underwear.

“I want to taste every last drop of you.”

He lowers his mouth to me. He’s aggressive as he sucks on my clit and bites at my folds. I let out a moan as he feasts on me. Another orgasm builds in my core, but he pushes off me.

“I need to feel inside this tight pussy. Are you on birth control?” he asks, and I nod.

“Good, because I’m going to take you raw.” He pulls down his pants, and I see his length and girth. I’ve never feltso aroused.

I spread my legs, ready to accommodate his size. To have every inch of him filling me up. He pushes in and stretches me, the pain setting another fire deep in my core. I want to feel him deep inside me. I want him to set me on fire. He moves in slowly. His crown stretching me open as he fills me. He throws my legs over his shoulders and pushes in deeper. I meet him with each thrust, my orgasm starting the climb as he thrusts into me. Hot liquid makes its way down from my core as he thrusts harder. That familiar heat ready to break out like a forest fire, consuming everything in sight. I scream out his name when the orgasm blazes through me. I feel his cum filling me like hot lava. Flames bursting around me. Blinding me.

“Diosa,” he whispers into my ear as he collapses on top of me, rolling us to our side, his softening dick inside me. My body shutting down from multiple orgasms, I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes as I let the fire of him consume and drift into sleep.

I wake to feather-like touches on my back. Mireya’s soft touch exploring me and picking up where we had left off. We woke up various times throughout the night to feel and explore one another. I couldn’t get enough. I turn over so my eyes meet hers. She is so beautiful. That first hit of her was exhilarating. The feel of being inside her was my very own form of destruction. Losing her once broke me, but I don’t think losing her again would work in anyone’s favor. I am too ruthless, too raw, and too broken to let her be happy without me. I am the worst thing for her, but I don’t care. She was always supposed to be mine. I reach out and cup her face.

“If you keep doing that, we’re going to go another round.”

She bites on her lower lip and hides a smile. Shebrings her hand to mine.

“When did you get the tattoo on your back?” She’s talking about the large Santa Muerte tattoo I got while in prison. I had forgotten the last time she saw me I was ink-free.

“About two years after I was sentenced.”

It had been a dark time. Before I even knew about The Consuelos or made my way into Los Antros. I was tried as an adult, but mentally I wasn’t prepared for the shit that went on in that place.

“One of my first cellmates was a Santa Muerte devotee. He talked about her like someone I knew. This dark presence that had followed me but never hurt me. She was there to protect me when I was younger. One time when I was eight-years-old, my mother didn’t come home for a few days. The house was dark, and I was hungry. I felt La Santa Muerte in that moment. Before I knew who or what she was. It was darkness and fear, and yet there was comfort in it.”

“La Santa Muerte,” she whispers as if afraid to say it but curious to understand it. “I never knew about your mom. About—” I press my finger to her lips.

“Shh… Ya. I didn’t want anyone to know. I don’t want anyone’s pity,” I say as I move to find my pants.

“I felt like that for a long time, too–alone and lost.Sometimes I still do.” She comes up from behind and wraps her arms around my waist, her bare chest on my back. It’s the first time in a long time I feel whole, but I can’t give myself to her. I know better than to trust anything anymore. Not when my own mother could see the monster inside of me. I turn around to face her.

“Any image you have of me in your mind, you need to shatter. I’m not that same person.” She looks into my eyes, and where I thought I would find hurt, I see understanding.

“I don’t think either of us is.”

After Mireya leaves, I do my daily workout routine, then head down to Enrique’s office to see what he wants me to do for the day.

When I walk in, he’s sitting at his desk, drinking a large cup of coffee. The mug in his hand reads “Antes muerta que sencilla.” It fits his personality. Enrique Consuelo would much rather die than show up anywhere looking simple. His fitted Prada suit and Rolex are evidence of that.

Thalia stands, looking out the ceiling-to-floor window. She has her hair up and is wearing her signature color of all black, with dark makeup to match. She looks up at me andsmiles. The devilish grin a taunt, like she knows something I don’t. Knowing her, she must have seen Mireya leaving my penthouse this morning and has been waiting to confront me about it. I ignore her and make my way into the office.

Enrique gives me his once over as he examines my outfit.

“Adrian. My favorite sobrino, sit down.” He gestures to the seat in front of his desk and I sit down. He hasn’t known me long enough to consider me his favorite nephew, but he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to get under Thalia’s skin. She rolls her eyes and moves to the seat next to me.

“What’s this about?” she asks, her voice slightly annoyed.

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