Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“If you wanted a virgin—”
“I want information about the woman I’m paying for.” His hand captured her nape, fingers closing around her hair, restraining her as he breathed his threatening words against her lips. “We can go round and round, but eventually, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”
“No one touched me tonight.”
“But Vera—”
“Is a goddamn liar. They raped the girl on the hook instead.”
An anguished look stole across his handsome face. Didn’t he know that any show of emotion would get him killed?
He didn’t belong here. Which begged the question… Who the hell was he?
“How many times have they forced you to fight?” His hands held her so firmly against him her neck smarted.
“I don’t know. Maybe a dozen.”
“You’ve never lost.”
“You know the rules. If I lose, I’m dead.”
“How do you rig every fight?”
“Shoestring and fishing line in my pocket make good garrotes. Same with a belt. Then there’s the stolen switchblade I buried in the dirt. A hidden nail file works well in the eye socket. Sometimes, I’m just lucky.”
Damn lucky she was still alive.
He released her and shifted down her body. “I want the names of every man who raped you.”
For what reason? To avenge her?
Just like that, she was a wishful, simple-minded teenager again. Oh, that pathetic girl.
The cynical, realistic woman knew better. He simply wanted to know the state of her used-up pussy before he shoved his dick in it.
“Their names,” he said.
“Marco, Omar, Miguel, and Alejandro.” She turned her head, refusing to look at him.
The cartel brothers had been passing her between them for almost three years. They never fucked her at the same time, but they shared her, nonetheless.
John was so quiet she thought he would push her away with disgust. She waited, hoping he would. Concussion or not, she just wanted to sleep.
When she finally dared a sideways glance, he was ready with one of those ice-cold expressions.
“Hector’s sons kept you to themselves?”
“Until tonight.”
Maybe they were finally done with her. Maybe John was, too.
“Are you going to send me back to them?” she asked.
“Should I?”
“Don’t care.”
His jaw turned rigid. “You watched them butcher a girl.”
“Still don’t care.” She knew what she was getting with the cartel.
This guy had a mouth on him. Full, pillowed lips that would wrench ungodly screams until he wore her out. Screams of pain were one thing. They fueled her hatred and kept her focused. But she feared they would be screams of pleasure. Then she would only hate herself.
“Roll over.” He shifted lower, straddling her knees.
So we’re doing this.
Go directly to anal. Do not pass go.
Her stomach hardened. “I want tequila first.”
“No.” He smacked her thigh so hard it sent shock waves down her leg.
Was this a battle worth fighting? Unfortunately, no. Sex from behind was impersonal and would be a thousand times easier than looking this man in the eyes.
She flipped over gingerly and tried to relax her sphincter. There were worse things than being plowed in the ass.
Like watching a girl get her foot sawed off.
Tomas passed a tube of ointment to John, and she focused on her breathing. In. Out. In—
A lubed finger pressed against her rectum. “They fuck you here?”
“Every time.” She clenched, unbidden. “Use a condom.”
“I’m clean.”
“They’re not. Use a fucking condom.”
She didn’t have an STD, but she couldn’t trust John’s claim about himself. Not that he’d listen to her demand.
He adjusted his weight on the backs of her legs. A wet squirt belched from the tube, and she held her breath.
Make it hurt.
Make me want to gut you.
His hands came down on her buttocks, soft and sticky and warm. Oh, God. She tensed. Not from pain. No, his touch was pure heaven.
The sensual slide of palms, the hypnotic rhythm of his caress, and the sinful friction of skin on skin made her pulse sing and belly quiver.
Talented fingers kneaded her flesh, working antibiotic ointment—not lube—into her welts. Trickles of bliss crept up from her toes, melting her joints and turning her bones to sludge.
She’d never had a massage but imagined this one exceeded every touch ever set upon the human body. She felt heavy, hot, and under attack. He lay siege to her senses, wrecking her ability to think as his hands parted ways, dividing and conquering the length of her.
His touch was everywhere, gliding over curves and wrapping around achy muscles. Each caress imparted authority, ordering her flesh to heat, commanding her nerve endings to dance, and teaching her body to crave.
He knew where to stroke her, how much pressure to use, and precisely which spots would make her sigh. And sigh she did, open-mouthed and collecting drool. Never had she felt this relaxed.
Until he lowered his head and curled his tongue along her spine.
CHAPTER 10
“What are you doing?” Her blood spun hot at the shocking, wet caress along her back.