by Olivia Fox
Fair enough, I had my head in the God damned clouds, and that’s when the Sinaloans made their move. Say what you will about those gangsters, they had cajones the size of Texas. One had his hand over my mouth, gun pointed at my spine, while frog marching me to the boat dock—his meathead friend watching his back.
He needn’t have bothered. Carlos was waiting in line to order our ice cream cones, still standing there when the goon’s cabin cruiser sped by.
I kneed the gangster in charge of watching me and he went down grunting.
“Carlos! Carlos, help me!” I yelled as loudly as I could. Unsure if he heard. I watched as the boat driver now headed towards me, the fierceness of his anger blazing like an oven in his eyes.
We stopped out in the bay, and the boat bobbed on the swells, making standing up a challenge.
Goon number two got closer, and I prepared myself to fight, but a large swell knocked me off balance, and I took a step backward.
The hoodlum took advantage and launched his beefy body at me, hitting me hard and strong and knocking the wind out of me so I couldn’t speak. Lying flat on my back with the oaf pinning me down with his weight, I was helpless.
The gorilla was furious, while he covered my mouth, his breath as hot as a beast’s against my ear, “What’s keeping me from raping you right here and right now for what you did to my friend? Or should I make you suck me off in front of him? We’ll take turns once he’s recovered.”
Instead of being afraid, the only thing I could think was Oh, this dumbass is going down.
Except he wasn’t.
A dumb ass, that is.
He wrapped one hand around my throat and started to squeeze. I couldn’t pry his fingers off my neck, his grip was much too strong.
Instead, I used my manicured talons, made so especially for the wedding, and dug into the tender flesh of his groin and twisted.
Now both of my abductors were rolling on the boat floor, and I took advantage,
Massaging the pain away from my neck, I frantically looked under seats and in the cabin for some kind of weapon with which to defend myself.
Got it.
A flare gun.
A signal pistol used for illuminating ocean waters in the dark. In this case it would do nicely as an emergency weapon.
“I’m not your fucking hostage you two dolts!”
They both raised their hands to surrender positions, recognizing a pissed off female when they saw one.
“You shouldn’t have treated me as such.” I placed one foot on top of the dirty-talker’s penis, “And you. I’m sure your mother taught you better manners.” I started applying pressure to that vulnerable place.
“You’re right!” he said. “I was wrong. There’s ten thousand dollars cash in the back. Take it. Take it, please, just go.”
“I don’t want your money,” I said.
I’m not proud of it but being hijacked really pissed me off.
So I stomped.
The large and looming brute gripped his wounded package, and rolled around on the ground, moaning.
Slamming my shoe on his chest, I made sure he looked me in the eye, “I. Want. Your. Pain.”
His companion stared at me, terror in his eyes, and honestly, I almost felt sorry for him but was distracted by the sound of another boat coming up behind us.
Drago.
He cried out as he idled his engine and came up beside the boat, “You had me scared shitless, gorgeous, but I see I needn’t have worried. Looks like you can take care of yourself.” I was never so glad to hear someone’s voice as his.
And now that it was all over, I started trembling.
“Hey.” I sounded calmer than I felt. “I was just going to flare these guys in the face. You want to watch?”
“That’s okay. I think they’ve learned their lesson.”
“Are you sure I can’t flare him in the face. He wasn’t very nice to me.” I pointed my weapon at the offender.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“What if I just break his nose a little?” I asked, holding the sole of my foot over the nasty man’s face.
“Please, no. We won’t bother you again. I swear we didn’t know that you two were together, Señor Drago.”
“Do you think we should let them go? We could just kill them and throw them over the side.” I said to Carlos.
“Come down here, Gabriela.” It was his stern voice, the one that did sinful things to my ovaries.
I obeyed and let him hold me closely to his chest for a good long while before we drove off. He took the wheel and I sat on his lap, needing his comfort, in spite of refusing to be a damsel in distress.
“You just put two barbarians out of commission. What do you have to say for yourself?” Carlos inquired.
“Oops?” I said, and leaned back against my husband’s chest, headed towards the shore.
Back at our hotel, Carlos made a call.
It was the kind of call familiar to me from my childhood. One I’d heard my father make a hundred times.
Just vague enough so you had no idea what was really going on, but serious enough in tone to know it was something important.
Important, and most likely deadly.
The harbor just off the Gualala shore. I tied them up before we drove off, now you take care of it.” He snarled his orders into the phone, and I’ll be damned if his tone didn’t make me hot.
Maybe it wasn’t the fact that he was a dangerous man that did it. I was in my sexual prime. Perhaps it was normal for my panties to be wet twenty-four seven?
Carlos hung up, and I walked over to him, begging a kiss, knowing his strength could relieve the lingering unease after being kidnapped, and almost sexually assaulted.
His mouth covered mine, inhaling my sighs until I rubbed up against him, squirming as though to get inside.
To have him inside me.
“I see living on the edge turns you on. Does my hot little wife need to be fucked?” His body radiated raw and primal strength.
I drew in my breath and pulled away, “You’re my daddy. You’re not supposed to give me anything but orders.”
Scrubbing his jaw with his hand, he replied, “I see. Then… I order you to take off your panties.”
24
Carlos
She bent over to drag her panties to the floor, stood up and stared at me.
Her skin had the flawless allure of satin and I traced the delicate lines of her hip bones before swiping the nectar between her legs with my too-large-for-her fingers.
Everything about her was soft and sensual, made more so by the juxtaposition of my thick muscled body marked by the scars of war.
It made me want to encase her in glass and put her on a high shelf, where nothing could touch her. But then, I couldn’t soak my palm with her juices, letting her hump my hand while she whispered my name.
My real name.
“Daddy.”
I licked her drenched excitement off my fingers. “Bad men get you excited; I see.” I dragged my hand through her folds again, and pulled back, saturated with her sweet arousal. “Such a good girl. You’re nice and wet for me. Now lick it off.”
The heat of her mouth around my fingers did dangerous things to my dick, and I shoved my jeans to my thighs, undressing in a hurry.
“I'll flay the skin off of any man who tries to touch you, Gabriela.” I took her lips with my own, and the sharp need of her kiss made my cock even more swollen.
My men called me “level-headed.”
Said they appreciated the fact that I didn’t take risks with their lives.
Wasn’t ruled by my temper like so many other men in the business.
But right now, recalling those thugs driving their boat away with my prize—reason didn’t play into it.
The blood lust that burned in my brain gnawed at my urge to kill, and morphed into lust for her pussy. I simply had to have her in my mouth.
I got on my knees in front of her, “Step your feet apart, gorgeou
s. Sink that angel pussy onto my lips.”
Bright eyes glittered from her dark and lovely face, and when she stepped her feet apart I smelled her arousal.
I tongued her clit, and she exhaled with a moan.
“Let it go, baby. You’re safe with me now.” I worked two fingers inside of her while worrying her with my tongue and teeth.
“Oh… God. You’re going to make me…” her voice was thick and slow, driving me to squeeze her slippery nub between my fingers with one hand, still going at it with my mouth and fucking her with my fingers until she began to twist her hips. Her back arched, shoulders shoved against the wall, and she rode my face like the champion jockey she was.
Tight.
Coiled.
Fearless.
Her eyes locked on mine, her expression startled, and she began to squeeze around my hand.
“No you don’t. On your knees on the bed. I’m going to fuck this angel pussy deep and hard from behind.”
She weaved as she walked, as intoxicated from having my mouth on her as I was from devouring her sweet slit. Nothing got my dick more ready to fuck than her flavor on my tongue.
Delicious.
“Put your forehead on the mattress, ass in the air, and pull your lips apart for me,” I said. “I’m not coming until you see stars.”
Gabriela was more beautiful naked than the most precious painting on any museum wall. Her pussy glistened, inviting me, daring me to plunge right in.
She turned me pure animal.
My hand rang out against her buttocks leaving a splash of pink on her caramel-colored skin, and a remnant sting on my palm.
No way I could wait any longer. I was a slave to my urges, and the thundering need to be inside her. No woman ever made me feel this way.
So soon.
We hardly knew each other, and yet I knew we were right together. There was no remorse, no hesitation when her father posed the marriage to me.
Only rightness.
I lined the tip of my dick up with the sexy slit of her pussy, “You ready?” I said, my voice sounded strangled with the effort it took not to take her by surprise.
“Yes, daddy. I love it when you grind your cock in me. I need to feel all of it.” Her hips gestured at me with a tempting sway, and I couldn’t hold back.
She was so small, it would be painful to thrust my way inside if not for her wetness.
And hot.
God, so hot.
My balls cranked down as soon as I completed one stroke, in and out, taking her for a ride unlike any other. “Is that what you needed baby? You needed daddy to pound that tight little pussy?”
No words came out of her mouth, but the way she met my erection thrust for thrust, and the high-pitched keening as she pressed closer, told me she needed more.
I gave it to her, snapping my hips forward, shoving my thickness into the heated core of her body.
“Your cock is huge.” She urged me to pound her harder and I grabbed her hips, lifting her up onto my throbbing erection, bouncing into her pussy from below and hitting a spot even sweeter than Florentine Torrone. “Fuck me deep, daddy. I want to feel you come inside me.”
I thought I might pass out from pleasure, and while pumping hard and fast barely managed to get the words out, “I need to explode soon, baby. Give daddy your orgasm so I can fill you up with my cum.”
Her pink lips swallowed up my cock and clung to it when I pulled out. The sight of her pussy gripping me made me wild with need, and I wanted to tell her all the filthy things I’d do to her.
“Daddy’s going to breed you.” I released her hips and slid both hands forward to cup her full breasts, pinching and plucking at her nipples while jackhammering towards my desperate climax, her body bouncing off mine in a beautiful, sexual display of jiggling flesh and flexing muscles.
“Yeah, daddy. Give me every last drop. I’m going to come so hard.” She twisted circles around my cock with her pussy and I about lost it.
Every time we fucked it was better than the last. My mind was more blown every time. When her orgasm hit her full force, my cock blew as well. I bucked my seed into her, thrusting deep, wishing that my spurting cum could plant a whole herd of Dragos inside her womb.
For now, that was not to be.
I lay beside her, breathing hard, realized I couldn’t go back to the way things were.
Being with her changed everything.
Gabriela made me lose control.
25
Gabriela
A flutter of anticipation set off in my belly as I walked Prancer to the track.
The sight of his eager, pricked up ears reassured me in the saddle. Two days before the Sonoma fair, and finally, I got to ride again.
Even as early as ten a.m., the hot sun beat down on my skin as I approached the track, and a line of sweat trickled down the center of my back.
“Wait up, Gabriela!” A familiar voice behind me cried out.
“Matías! What are you doing here?” I pivoted in the saddle, resting my hand on Prancer’s hindquarters and shiny, black coat, and turned to see my friend with a wide grin on his face.
“Same as you. I came to win.” He said and we entered the oval-shaped dirt track surrounded by its white fence.
“That why you’re training when the sun is out, like me?” I asked.
“Sonoma’s a far cry from Humboldt. Got to acclimate them some. But your biggest challenge on Sunday?” He left the question hanging in the air along with the flies that buzzed around our heads.
“What’s that?” I asked, taking a huge breath of air which smelled like fresh cut grass.
“Frankie Detroit.” He collected his reins and lifted his diminutive butt up off the saddle. “Meanest son of a bitch-jockey you ever met. And the horse he rides, totally fitting—Lucifer.” My friend shuddered dramatically, sending a corresponding chill up my spine.
“What do I watch out for during the race?” I asked.
“Just keep your distance. He’ll do anything from run interference by knocking into Prancer with that devil of his, steal your whip, or try to force you off your racing line. Best advice. Stay away.”
My Drago would kick anyone’s ass who so much as tried to harm one hair on my head.
Little did I know it wasn’t another jockey that would fuck me up.
It was my own damned self.
Both horses tossed their heads and pawed at the ground when we held them back at our makeshift starting line. The tiered grandstand area was totally empty except for Carlos who insisted on coming to watch me train. He raised his hand in acknowledgement and I nodded at him.
He believed in this horse as much as I did, and I wanted to make him proud.
“On three?” Matías asked next to me, bringing his goggles down from his helmet to cover his eyes.
My own goggles snapped into place, and we coiled our bodies over our horse’s manes, bunching up to hang on for the lunge we’d have to ride out once our conditioning run began.
“Three!” Matías sputtered his final count down and my chest floated to the sky. I was back in the saddle again, the place where I belonged.
The huff of Prancer’s breath was like a steam engine beneath me, overwhelming any other sound, and his powerful legs bit into the dirt, pulling him forward at a speed that flattened the goggles against my face. He wasn’t even running full out.
He was nice and warm from our session in the round pen, muscles loose, and ready to eat up the track and spit it out.
Still, I held him back, letting Matías have the inside corner. Teasing Prancer with the sight of the other horse’s powerfully muscled back end, kicking up its hooves in front, until it crossed over the finish line ahead of us.
Prancer needed to want it.
If he wasn’t challenged, couldn’t sense the race being yanked out from under him, he never tried as hard.
Horses run to escape threats.
Prancer’s biggest threat was losing, and I let it sink in long and slow, tha
t defeat was a distinct possibility.
Matías slowed to a trot ahead of me, after crossing the finish line ahead of Prancer, his t-shirt darkened by his sweat. We came to a walk. “Not feeling your oats today?” he asked.
“Wanted to give him a chance to warm up a little more,” I said.
“In this heat? I’m about to melt like a popsicle and slide off this saddle,” he said.
“Just one more run?” I asked.
“Alright, let’s walk the track once more first.”
I agreed and waved to Carlos in the stands. He gave me a thumbs up and my heart hammered in response, a hyper-awareness filtering through every part of my body.
He was such a handsome man and he was all mine.
“Looks like you have an admirer.” Matías noticed as we rounded the first curve at a fast walk. “Some fine specimen you’ve got for a husband.”
Dramatically, he put the back of his hand against his forehead, “Oh to be loved by a Drago. I bet his cock is magnificent.”
I laughed and squinted into the sun’s glare, momentarily blinded.
I’ll never know if it was the flags being raised center field, and the snapping sound of them flapping in the breeze, or the dull roar of the water truck as it came onto the track behind us, prepping the course.
Perhaps a combination of both.
Whatever the case, Prancer was threatened, and I was too relaxed in the saddle to prevent him from bolting.
Years of riding trained me to keep just the tip of my toes in the stirrup to avoid being dragged from the stirrups, underneath a bolting horse, and I rolled right off his back.
I tried to scream, “Prancer, wait!” But with the wind knocked out of me, I sounded like a mummy. The words stayed in my head, speech was impossible. I couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck.” It was Carlos, at my side. A million feelings went through me all at once.