Page 43 of Born Sinner
She stills. “Did you hurt him?”
“Damn right I did.” I pinch her swollen clit in delicious punishment, inhaling her pained groans like they’re oxygen.
“¡Ay Dios mío!” she gasps, and shudders, cursing me in Spanish. “¡Hijo de su puta madre!”
She’s right. I am a son of a bitch. In more ways than one.At this, I drive my middle finger so deep inside her she loses her balance, slamming her palms against the wall as I circle and stretch her, prepping her for an even bigger surprise.
“You’re crazy!” she cries, angling her hips for more.
“Crazy for you. Do you like it, Lola? Does it pique your interest? Are you going to climb down from your ivory tower to take a closer look? Maybe we should climb backuptogether?” With this, I give her exactly what she needs, ramming a second finger inside her. I pump mercilessly in and out of her body as she curses again.
“God, I hate you!”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
“You’re a creep,” she groans, squeezing my fingers as her pussy starts quivering.
“You’re a tease.”
“You’re a filthy Santiagopendejo!”
“And you’remine!”
Ripping my fingers away, I spin her back around, smashing our mouths together to drown out her next insult. I taste peaches and cream, relief and desperation, before shouts and heavy footsteps in the parking lot outside send us spiraling back to earth.
Shit.
Tearing my mouth from hers, I slam my hand down in its place. “Don’t make a fucking sound. I mean it, Lola. There’s a fine line between the two factions of this war, and we’re slow-dancing on the edge of it.”
I think fast. I have exactly sixty seconds before Santi Carrera sees what I did to his second-in-command and starts redecorating her apartment in my blood.
There’s a stairwell at the end of her hallway. It leads to the side of the building where my car is parked. I hear Lola’s silent question in my head, and my mind is made up.
Wherever I’m going, she’s coming too.
Chapter Seventeen
Sam
If looks could kill,Lola would have sent me to hell and back a couple of times over by now.
She’s in the passenger’s seat of my Bugatti, her hands tied to the Jesus handle above her head. I can’t tell if she’s madder at me for kidnapping her or at herself for coming all over my fingers as her brother was storming the stairs. We made it out with seconds to spare, and now we’re speeding down the freeway and into the eye of the storm.
Not knowing Santiago’s intentions toward Lola pushed my obsession into a wasteland of uncertainty.And then she hit me with that sexy-as-fuck floor show.
In that moment, ambition, lust,Santiago…all that other stuff ceased to exist. There’s only her to drown in now, and what a great death it promises to be.
We drive for five hours straight, kissing the coastline all the way up to New England. At two a.m., I see a derelict road sign for some roach motel a couple of miles shy of Newport, Rhode Island.
Pulling into the parking lot, I kill the engine.
“Are you going to play nice, Lola?” Turning to her, I trail a finger down one flawless cheek, feeling a surge of hope when she doesn’t unleash a string of Spanish insults at me.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she whispers, looking vulnerable and so fucking beautiful, I want to kiss all her doubt and hesitation away.
She’s wrong. I know exactly what I’ve done. By taking her, I haven’t just declared a new war on the Carreras, I’ve declared war on my own side too. We’re on the run from the two biggest criminal organizations in the world, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
I think I need a drink to process it, though.
