Page 88 of Lourdes & the Mafia
Ramiel spent a few more moments with us, wrapped around me from behind while Lorenzo pressed against me from the front, before Ramiel untangled himself from me and declared he had business to take care of.
Now it’s just me and Lorenzo.
While I miss Ramiel’s warmth, I need this time with Lorenzo after what we did. What I did with Ramiel was intimate as well, but we didn’t actually have sex. And I need this time with Lorenzo to…
To get my head on straight.
And he’s a good cuddler.
Such a good cuddler.
His fingers push aside my curls, one hand wrapped around my waist. His legs are thrown over my own, keeping me pinned to the bed.
Between us, I can feel his erection, hard and pulsing against my stomach.
As if we didn’t just fuck.
As if he didn’t just find his release inside me.
Never met a man who got hard right after finding his release.
I guess demons are just built different.
“Lourdes?”
I hum, my fingernails tracing a pattern against his muscular chest.
He rolls me to my back, moving on top of me and smiling down. “I want to take you on a date.”
I blink. “A… date?”
“A date,” he repeats.
“Isn’t a date supposed to come before hopping in bed together?”
He chuckles. “We do things backwards in the Underworld. Even time works differently here. Weeks in the human world can mean mere hours here, and yet the days are longer.”
“¿Que?” I squeak.
“Why do you think you feel so strongly when knowing us so little time? We transcend human time. You feel like you’ve known us a lifetime. It may as well be.”
I wriggle beneath him. “Wait, you mean days have passed back home?” My heart begins to pound in my chest.
“I am sure, yes.”
“Joder, joder, joder.” Panic starts to set in my chest. I wriggle again, trying to sit up.
And the pain hits.
I fall back to the mattress, feeling my eyes roll to the back of my head as images around me disappear and new scenery takes its place.
A compound I’m familiar with comes into view, the smell of smoke and booze overpowering. I catch flashes of leather and a blue logo over the breast.
The Kraken Motorcycle Club compound.
“Where is she?!”
The voice screeches and it’s one I’m as familiar with as my own name.
