by Olivia Fox
“Turn it up,” I said, reclining on the mattress and humming with satisfaction.
Tony laid me flat by turning the wand to the strongest setting and pushing more firmly than I would have ever done, leaning into it with his elbow, and I begged him to continue with a tortured groan.
“You’re going to come for me, Daphne.” He switched back and forth between the highest power and the varied pulsing rhythms, shoving it against me. “Come hard on your toy.”
He slid two fingers inside me and started caressing the spot he knew could make me orgasm all by itself. With the vibrator torturing my clit, sensation ripped through me, a tumbling wave that rocked along with the sound of the real live ocean outside, crashing and splashing all over the shore.
He covered my mouth with his to swallow every one of my whimpers and moans, even my private thoughts. The ones I couldn’t share with him.
Thoughts of how he ruled me and had since the first day he walked me home from high school. A wish he didn’t hold the key to my heart.
His kiss made me hope for the impossible; we’d get out of this alive.
My sister would be okay.
And yes, Tony Drago would continue to punish, fuck, and take care of me until the day I was ready to lie down and die.
16
Antonio
After taking good care of my girl until she lay spent, like a limp noodle, out of breath on the mattress, we walked down the white sandy beach under the indigo night sky and took a seat to watch the waves lap the shore beneath the moonlight.
“Fucking gorgeous.” I was referring to Daphne and the view.
The iguanas were another matter.
“They wouldn’t bother me if they were always slow.” I pointed to the cold lizards chilling on the patio under the stars. “It’s the short bolts of speed I can do without.” I was trying to bring a smile to Daphne’s lips after she’d asked me why her sister would double-cross the Sinaloa Cartel.
She repeatedly scrubbed her hand over her face and bounced her foot on her knee, signs she was still thinking about her. ”What are you thinking about, baby?”
“Maggie never made it easy,” she said and dabbed the inner corner of her eye.
“I’m surprised to hear you say such a thing.” I rubbed her back. “You never discussed it with me. Never complained.”
“No point. It wouldn’t have solved anything. After Mom died, I thought it best to keep my head down, forging ahead until I went to college. If I allowed myself to get distracted by her antics, I’d have never left town,” she stated.
“I know what it cost you. But many people would have said goodbye to Maggie when she sold those paintings out from under you. They were the only real mementos you had of your mother, from times when things were still good.”
Before Daphne’s dad died, her mom gained notoriety for her paintings.
The artwork Maggie sold out from under her sister would have gone a long way towards covering college tuition and books.
Instead, she bought a souped-up car and a new wardrobe.
Since learning she was now bribing the Sinaloa Cartel for cash, I needed no further proof she’d stop at nothing to get what she thought she deserved, even if it meant taking money from hands with blood all over them. The same hands she let touch her in bed.
The tears in Daphne’s eyes killed me. Her sister was a constant black cloud in her life, leaving wreckage behind and expecting her younger sister to pick up the pieces.
There’d be no thank you once my baby finished doing damage control. Never was.
“This should be a dream come true. This view, sitting oceanside with a beautiful girl like you. Instead, I’m looking around every corner, hoping they don’t see us before we find them.” Someday, I’d take her to a resort for a real vacation.
“Sorry, Tony.” Daphne wiped her nose. “I never meant to put you in danger. It was naïve thinking we’d recover Maggie without pissing anybody off.”
“She never fails to disappoint. Just when you think you’ve seen the worst of it, she lets you know things could get a lot worse,” I said.
“Did Octavio have more information about my sister?” Her breath hitched as she twisted her hair around her finger.
I prayed someone would deliver me from having to tell her, but there was no way around it. I took a deep breath before saying, ”Octavio said she’s pregnant.”
She flinched upon hearing the last word, and the fear was raw on her face. “Are you saying my sister has not only double-crossed the Sinaloa Cartel, but she’s now carrying the underboss’s child?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
“God help me for saying it, but it may be the only thing saving her from becoming dead meat.”
“Which is why Maximilio is demanding a paternity test. And thus, your sister’s attempt to run away from him. Suspicious much?” I asked.
The fear returned to her face, and she seemed unable to move. “Daphne?”
She turned toward me and terror shone from her eyes like twin candles of fright. It pained me to see her so afraid. I’d witnessed it before when trying to reckon with the chaos Maggie dragged with her everywhere.
“What is she thinking?” she asked.
“Same as always, baby girl, she’s just moving fast enough to stay one step ahead of trouble, but make no mistake, what she leaves in her wake is a dangerous swath of destruction. No way you’re going to be a part of it.”
“I have to find her, Tony. She’s in real danger now.”
“Maggie got herself into that predicament!” I had nothing but contempt and disdain for her sister’s antics.
Until I saw the desperate tears falling from Daphne’s eyes.
“Oh God, baby. Don’t cry.” I pulled her to me and rubbed her back. “Please, please, it’s going to be okay.” I’d never seen her use crying as a bargaining tool. If she ever did, she’d lay me flat in any argument.
I couldn’t handle it.
“But, but, what about the baby…” Defeated, she put her face in her hands and wept.
“Sh, it’s okay. We’ll find her. Don’t worry.” Just like that, I realized we were going to follow Octavio’s lead after all.
Time to get thee to a nunnery.
He told me the convent was the superhighway of information in this part of Mexico, and the sisters within would guide us towards Maggie. Through them, we’d find out Maximilio’s whereabouts and try to keep him from killing Daphne’s sister before her child was born.
If she was even pregnant.
The ruthless, Mexican gangster had to be asking himself the same question.
Was she telling the truth?
Maximilio couldn’t afford to trust anyone, and he’d be demanding proof.
17
Antonio
“What is this place?” she asked as we pulled into a lower parking lot, bordered by prickly pear cactus, which led to a field of the stuff beneath a cathedral which was perched atop a large rock, overlooking everything. An old limestone wall surrounded the church and the nunnery.
I followed Daphne up the stone steps that extended between the short, bright-yellow painted walls on either side, admiring the way her hips swung left to right with every stair she climbed.
If I wasn’t careful, the sight of her sweet ass was going to give me an erection on sacred ground.
There was an arched walkway at the top of the stairs which showcased a statue of the Virgin Mary tucked into an alcove in the yellow plaster wall, wearing a blue cape and a spray of roses laid at her feet.
“How did you discover this place?” Daphne asked me.
“Octavio gave me the lead. He said we should ask for Señora Cuca.”
“Is it just me? Or is it an irreverent name for a nun?”
“I think it’s a nickname,” I answered.
“Well, let’s hope Cuca appreciates our offering.” She held up a bag full of thick woolen socks we brought with us across the border, following Octavio’s advice. It
was hot as hell in Mexico but the convent lacked central heating, and it got cold as the frozen tundra within the thick plaster walls at night.
At the top of the stairs sat a woman with a pixie cut, wearing coveralls, chewing on a cigarillo—or small cigar. Her stool rocked back on two legs, leaning against the wall in the shade of the walkway.
“Señora Cuca?”
“¿Si?” She rattled off a string of Spanish. I understood a word or two.
Daphne surprised me, “She wants to know if you are the American sent by Octavio.”
I nodded and stood there, dumbfounded, while they conversed back and forth.
Because I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The conversation went on forever, ending with Señora Cuca cracking up over something Daphne said. She dropped all four legs of the stool to the floor and reached over to pat me on the shoulder until a fierce smoker’s hack wracked her body.
We let it settle down, and she dabbed at her mouth with a hankie. With surprising agility, she hopped off her seat and walked into the church, returning with a package wrapped in brown paper and twine, handing it to Daphne, who said her goodbyes and thanked the nun.
Heading down the stairs, back to the car, I said, “You’re fluent in Spanish? You didn’t think to mention this important little detail to me before?”
“I’m full of surprises. You’re going to have to accept the fact that you’re the brawn in this operation, Tex.” She reached over and patted me, much like Señora Cuca did. “Let’s go into town and catch a late lunch. I’m famished.”
Daphne led me into the restaurant which was located down a small side street. “This place is so charming,” she said.
Rough-hewn wood covered the ceiling, gray-blue paint coated the walls, and light fixtures hung from turquoise-colored chains with tiny pink lamp shades blooming out of their chandeliers. A huge, antique wooden bar classed up the joint, and a server came over to seat us.
“Is it too soon for a margarita?” she asked.
“Not at all,” I told her. “Unless you’ve got plans to take off on some kind of adventure that demands sobriety this evening.”
“I don’t think so. Cuca mentioned it will be a day or two before we have news.”
“Things move slowly around here. It’s as if we’re living in 1920.”
“We’re relying on the convent grapevine, which moves at its own pace. She had information your friend Octavio wasn’t privy to. I don’t know what to think.”
“What is it?”
“Word on Mother Superior Street is the Jaliscos know she’s with child. Or at least she claims to be.”
“That’s not good.” If Maggie carried Maximilio’s child, his heir would be a threat to the rival gang. One wrong move could cost her life.
The server came and took our order, and Daphne ordered clam ceviche. “I don’t know what’s more dangerous, baby girl. Hunting for your sister or eating raw shellfish. I gotta hand it to you, you’re brave as hell.”
“I love ceviche. It’s like Mexican sushi.”
“I’ll stick with my fish tacos, thanks. And this right here.” I raised my hibiscus margarita to her. “Salud.”
“To your health,” she echoed, her fingertips roaming my arm.
This waiting game to find her sister was killing me. At least I got to spend it with her. I’d take evading the bad guys with Daphne any day over someone else’s idea of a perfect date. Having her, even on the worst of days, filled me with pleasure.
18
Daphne
I turned back and his smile was pure male, and he was tiger-stalking me. “Slow down there, gorgeous,” he called out.
He and I were like moon and stars. Peanut butter and jelly. I’d always loved him.
Yes, loved.
Pursuing my sister who was captive to dangerous men, stripped life bare except for what mattered.
Tony mattered.
He’d dropped everything and traveled to Mexico with me, for God’s sake, and found a replacement for me to cover my shifts at the bookstore.
Not to mention the fact that he was smoking hot.
I looked over my shoulder and saw him watching me with an intent stare. The raw power of my attraction to him disturbed me. “Come on, don’t play. Let’s walk on the beach.”
It wasn’t every day a girl got to stroll on foreign shores with an Italian god, and I planned to enjoy it. He grabbed my hand, and touching him, leaning against his side, under the crook of his arm, comforted me.
“I’m grateful for your help.”
“I’d never let you do this on your own, Daphne.”
“Let me?”
“You heard correctly.” My body went toasty at his bossy tone.
“I’m a big girl now and can do what I want.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His eyes grew fiery, and I took a step backward, bumping into a palm tree.
His heavy male body pinned me to the trunk, and I opened my mouth to him. Our mouths met, tongues probing, tasting desire and tequila as a flame of hunger kicked up between my legs. ”You’ll do as I say.,” he said.
“You’re not the boss of me!” I clamped down on the margarita glass with my fingers.
One hand on each of my shoulders, he held me against the tree. “Watch it, young lady.” His breath whispered over my lips. He pulled my tank top away from my bare chest and blew warm air over my nipples. “If you don’t follow my orders, I’ll have to get rough.”
In the parlance of modern, independent female times, his macho, aggressive ways should have pissed me off, but they made me want to lie down at his feet. My body belonged to him now, and I needed him to overpower me, to force me to submit.
Just thinking about it made a delicious shudder shoot through me.
“You cold?” He held me with his eyes.
“No. The thought of you getting rough. Obeying you. It gave me a little shiver.”
“Because you like it? Or because you’re scared?” His bold gaze raked my skin, promising pleasure. “Or both?”
“I love it,” I said, ducking under his arm and heading for the beach.
We ordered a light supper from room service and sat on our private patio looking out over the ocean.
“Hey, I never showed you my package from Señora Cuca.” I walked into the bedroom where I’d stashed it and returned to where Tony leaned up against the wall like a divine being just flown in from Rome.
“She says I can get into any place wearing this.” I withdrew the blue habit and white wimple in my size. “We just have to wait for her to give the location of my sister, and I’ll put this on.”
Pure hunger was in his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Sister Daphne? It’s so hot.” His words vibrated through me.
Tilting my jaw and scratching my cheek, I gave him an inquisitive look.
“Oh, yeah? Sister Daphne? Does this mean you fantasized about the nuns at Saint Agnes?” I asked, perplexed.
He jerked back. “Bite your tongue. Sister Donna? She’d make a guy’s dick retract like a Sumo wrestler’s balls.”
“Then what turned you on?”
“Once again, my little wren, it looks like I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”
There began the story of how I wound up dressed as a nun in a Mexican luxury suite. As it happened, there was a disguise for Tony too — a cassock, a long black robe worn by Catholic priests.
He held my modest, body concealing blue frock up for me, “Put it on.” His eyes caressed me with lusting, invisible fingers before he helped me pull the rough fabric over my head. It was like a thousand tiny punishments scraped and scratched my overly sensitive skin.
The out-of-place rose petals strewn on our bed in the shape of a heart were a strange contrast to our curious game of dress-up. “What shall we do with these?” I waved at the flowers, aware of the wimple of my headdress cutting into my brow.
“Let me gather them, sister. I’ll set them to the side.” It
was odd seeing Tony in his priest garb, he was still the same beautiful man, his body thick with muscle, only now he had an air of holiness which I recognized from growing up with men of the cloth.
“If you’ll take this side of the bed, I’ll remain on mine. You have nothing to fear from me,” he said, patting “my side.” The thing was, he was underestimating my role-playing game. No priest worth his salt would sleep in the same room as a woman.
Let alone a bride of Christ.
“But, Father. In the same quarters? It isn’t right.” To make my point, I took the corners of my headdress and wrapped them around my body, shrouding myself further from this horny priest’s view.
I stomped off to the adjoining bathroom and removed my headdress, hanging it on the back of the door, and brushed my teeth. The wooden comb felt great against my scalp after wearing the constricting wimple.
I returned to my side of the bed and Tony said, “Better we sleep in our clothes. For propriety’s sake.”
“Agreed, Father.”
He returned from getting ready for bed and surprised me by sitting down next to me.
“It strikes me you haven’t been as pious, Sister Daphne, as when you first came to the convent.”
“What do you mean?”
“I see the way you ogle the gardener while he works in the flower garden of the nunnery. As if your mouth wants to worship at his altar, taking him in with devout desire.”
“No, Father, I swear,” I said, uncertain if I should confess it was he himself who was the object of my lust.
“If you make a vow to God, you’d best see it through.” The fires of hell stoked the passion in his twisted grin, and he shoved my still-clothed body backward on the bed, pinning my arms to the mattress, his hard length pressed against me like a threatening possibility.
“Father, please. You can’t touch me this way! I have a vow of chastity, and so do you!”
“Who said anything about fucking you? Your wicked mind is on cock, and it’s time to purge your evil thoughts.” He used my wrists to drag me out of bed and marched me over to the wall until my nose was up against it.