Page 52 of Miguel

“What’s–”

I silenced her by crushing my mouth to hers.

She gasped, her mouth opening against mine. I took advantage, slipping my tongue into her mouth. I devoured her, right there in front of fucking everyone. I didn’t care. There was a need inside me, unfurling low in my gut, hardening my cock. Making me desperate in a way I’d never been before.

Desperate forher.

And she had no idea what she fucking did to me. So I showed her with my mouth. Our tongues tangled together, and her blunt little nails grasped tightly at the shoulders of my shirt, nails raking across the material. At first, it seemed like she would push me away, but she pulled me closer, a moan rising deep in her throat that shot through to every inch of my body, with special attention at my cock.

My arm snaked around her waist, keeping our lower halves tethered. Sound became a distant thing, and yet I was sure there were whistles and jests, the groans and huffs of jealous women. It all faded and the center of my universe became her.

My hand gripped the base of her hair tighter, angling her head in a way that allowed me to dive deeper into her mouth. Our teeth clacked together in my desperate need to consume her. It jarred through my addled brain, shaking me, rattling me down to my bones.

I wanted more.

Lorena’s little nails scrambled against me, almost as if she were searching for purchase. Finally, she put pressure against my shoulders, giving the gentlest of shoves before she managed to tear her mouth away from mine. Her breaths came out in heavy pants, and her creamy cheeks were bright with the evidence of her desire and embarrassment.

Her caramel colored brows pulled together. “Miguel.” My name was an admonishment on her tongue. “What are you doing?”

The tip of my nose touched hers and all at once, sound came back around us. I was sure everyone was listening. Nosey bunch of bastards. But I didn’t care. Let them see.

Let them know Lorena was mine.

“Saying hola to my Vieja,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

There were shocked gasps from nearby putas, their moans of disappointment because they hadn’t been able to curve their claws into me.

A lot of them were here with the hopes that they could become more than what they were. A lot of them hoped for the title of Vieja. Old Lady. They craved being brought into the fold that way. Sure, they were a part of Los Diablos, but they were expendable. We could drop them if we saw fit. Being a Vieja was a permanent fixture of Los Diablos dynamic.

It meant more.

It meant that whoever we claimed were our wives. They were ours. They received protection. Devotion. Everything.

And Lorena was that for me.

Mine.

And I wanted the entire fucking compound to know it.

Her brows furrowed at my proclamation, though, and she huffed. “Why do you insist on calling me an old lady? I’m only twenty-nine.”

My grip around her waist tightened. “Don’t pretend as though you don’t knowexactlywhat I mean.”

Vieja was a common term of endearment for a wife, and she knew it. But in MC terms, it meant so much fucking more.

Her body stiffened, and she pulled away from me, her eyes darting around to find mostly everyone staring at our interaction. She left slowly, cautiously, and offered me a too-tight smile that I instantly knew was fake. That worried me.

She let out a breath. “We were teaching Zeke to sign,” she said, quietly changing the subject. “He’s a quick learner.”

To let her know that that was the exact reason I’d wrapped her in me in the first place. Because she cared about my son, went out of her way for him.

“Teach me?” And if it sounded like I was begging her, it didn’t matter. She reduced me to this. I’d get down on my fucking knees to worship her if she’d only let me.

The next smile she gave wasn’t forced or fake. It was radiant. “Of course.”

Chapter Nineteen

Lorena

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