by Melissa Jane
Closing my eyes, I relished the feeling of freedom I’d thought I would never again experience.
A few minutes passed and my flushed cheeks from the warm bath tingled. My body responded to him before I even knew for sure he was there.
“You look fucking beautiful when you do that.”
For a moment, I kept my eyes closed enjoying how his accented gravelly voice made my nipples harden and thighs clench. When I opened them, I met his broody intense stare, lips slightly turned.
“Hi,” I barely whispered.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he advanced forward, a determined look in his eye. Breaking the surface of the water, he hooked his arms underneath me in the bath and lifted me out. Water gushed over the floor and his clothing became saturated. But he didn’t care. I recognized that look. It was one that had made me beautifully weak on many occasions. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I let him carry me to the bed where he placed me down underneath him. Instinctively my legs fell to the side, so he could rest between my thighs. I was naked, wanting, and severely turned on. I watched as he removed his wet shirt, skin glistening. The wound on his chest was healing nicely, his broad shoulders having their desired effect.
Unzipping his pants, his cock sprung free and before I could blink he moved between my thighs again, pushing himself deep inside.
I cried out, the sensation overcoming me.
“I need to be inside you, cariña,” he groaned and I shared his urgency.
Before I could respond his lips claimed mine, thrusts deepening. Gripping his hair, I held him close, my hips raising up to meet his. Sucking my nipple into his mouth, he nibbled, my core clenching around his hard cock. I didn’t know how long I could last. I had dreamed of this moment since our last time together, my desire for this perfect stranger, knowing no bounds. When his lips trailed from my breasts to my neck, I could take no more. The roughness of his cheek, his demanding mouth, and his insatiable hunger to claim me sent me over the edge. I threw my hands back, fingers knotting into the pillow behind me. My back arched, my cry filling the room, Hunter deepening his thrusts as I came around him.
When the shuddering stopped and his lips gently kissed mine, he increased his tempo, plowing into me hard and fast. His hand gripped between my neck and shoulder holding me perfectly still while he took me with an urgent desire. Kissing me hard, he sucked my bottom lip, teeth gently grazing as he came deep inside me. His thrusting continued slowly as though he couldn’t bear for it to stop.
Tenderly he kissed my lips, thumbs gently working circles on my temples. I relished the moment. I absorbed every second, forever imprinting it on my brain. Preparing myself for what was coming next.
***
Hunter held me close, our naked bodies pressed together on top of the damp sheet. He kissed my closed eyelids and I roused, fatigue close to overcoming me completely. His fingers grazed over my back and my body tingled with the sensation.
“Who are you really?” I asked, my voice husky from exhaustion.
He kissed my nose buying time. “Someone who you can’t be around right now.”
My eyes widened meeting his. From the bathroom light they glistened, a sadness evident. “And why is that?”
He had a history of avoiding this question and I knew it was because of his safety. That didn’t stop me from wanting to know.
“Cariña, when you do what I do for a living you have a permanent target on your head. In my case, my target is the size of Mexico.” His lips kissed mine and I felt him stir. “I’ve put you in danger once before, and for that I will be forever sorry. But I won’t let it happen again.”
He moved to the side of the bed and began dressing, not once taking his focus off me.
I swallowed hard hearing the remorse in his voice. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
He nodded, jaw twitching. I could tell he didn’t want to. He was forcing himself to complete the mission he’d started. To seek justice for those who suffered at the hands of Los Santos cartel.
“Where are you going?”
“Not far.”
“What does that even mean? Across state? International?”
“Luis Santos, he was gone by the time I returned.” Noticing the fear in my eyes, he quickly added, “I don’t want you worrying. He won’t hurt you. And after everything that went down, he will be long gone, I can assure you of that.”
I could hear my heart pounding and I should have known better than to ask the next question. “What are you going to do?”
“Find him.”
“And then what?”
“When my business is finished and I know it’s safe, I will return. Hopefully, lead a normal life.” The smile in his eyes made my stomach nervous. A good kind of nervous.
He took a step forward cupping my cheeks drawing me to his mouth. His lips moved against mine and I became jelly in his hands.
“I will be close, cariña. Out of sight, but close. You never need to fear anyone causing you harm.” He kissed me deeply, a sad farewell kiss that tore my heart to shreds. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready for the possibility of never seeing my perfect stranger again.
“You have taught me many things Nina Cross.” His forehead rested against mine. “You brought color into a world when everything seemed lost to darkness. You made me feel alive when I was surrounded by death.” He took my hand in his and placed it over his heart. “I’ve been won over by a young, extremely beautiful, rookie agent who never once compromised her morals.”
My throat tightened, tears slipping down my face.
“You were always more than just a face in the crowd, Nina.”
“Don’t let their world consume you,” I barely managed. “You need to come back.” I touched his cheek tenderly as he kissed my lips. He lingered, tasting me and I in return. We didn’t know if we would see each other again. We barely made it out alive the last time. But this was him. This was my perfect stranger.
Pulling away, he picked up his bag and hooked it over his shoulder.
“Wait!” I called and he stopped on the threshold, turning his broody face, the one I’d fallen in love with. “Tell me your real name, please.”
He smiled, gently, his eyes playing a montage of our time together.
“Antonio. My name is Antonio.”
To be continued…
Los Santos Cartel Story series:
The Perfect Stranger (Book 2)
The White Rabbit (Book 3)
Read through for the Prologues of upcoming books in the series.
THE PERFECT STRANGER (Book 2)
Prologue
The wind blew her long hair and she pulled her jacket tighter around her neck fighting the arctic frost freezing the city. She moved with the elegant grace I remembered and her beauty was still blatantly obvious to everyone but her. The last time I saw her, she had been naked beneath me. I watched as she weaved in and out of the New York crowded streets, my vantage point four floors above street level.
She paused, making people with places to go abruptly walk around her. Her head dropped slightly before she slowly turned, wisps of dark chocolate hair caressing her delicate features. She looked for the eyes watching her. Scanning the street, her beautiful brows creased together as she came up empty, wishing for answers.
She could feel me. I wanted to feel her.
She was perfection. I was a man with a kill list.
She deserved a knight. I had been her devil.
She didn’t need someone like me in her life.
But I couldn’t stop myself.
She was my kryptonite.
Nina Cross was my destruction as much I was hers.
THE WHITE RABBIT (Book 3)
Prologue
I saw him.
Between each flash of the iridescent strobe light my nightmare revealed itself. Each time he appeared, his sadistic smile that promised me a world of hurt grew wide across his handsome face.
I thought I had escaped him. I thought I w
as safe.
Yet, here Evan Jacobs stood, halfway across the room, confident and in control surrounded by unsuspecting club goers, his piercing eyes never breaking from mine.
I wasn’t moving, yet I was sweating profusely, my heart rate tripling in speed. I needed to run, I needed to hide from the man who was now stalking toward me, rapidly closing the space.
I had loved him once. He was my husband.
He was also the one set out to kill me.
Books already available:
LITTLE DOLL (Bittersweet Series, Book 1)
Prologue
“How long do you think this gringa will last?” The heavy Mexican accent invaded my throbbing head. “I give her two days.”
“That’s two days longer than your mama, puto,” said another man, his snide remark encouraging sniggers from the others.
“Eh, fuck you puto! My mama is a saint, don’t talk about her like that.” Still bitter over the insult, the first man fired off a rapid string of Spanish insults which only incited more jeering and laughter from the others.
“As if I would date your mama, bro. I got some hot mamasita rolling around my bed every night showing off her moves and sexy body.”
“Oh yeah, puto?” The offended man sounded skeptical. “Who? What’s her name?”
“You know her,” the other said, antagonistically.
“Don’t game me, bro. Who is it? I bet it’s that regordete chica from the east barrio.”
“Nah, bro. My girl, she not fat. Curves to die for, you know what I’m sayin’? Smooth skin, ripe plump breasts...”
“Mierda, puto. You couldn’t pull anyone, even regordete.”
“True bro, ask your sister.”
“My sister?”
There was a brief pause while the man slowly comprehended the words then the air erupted once again. “The fuck you talk ‘bout my family like that? Watch your back, culo!” the insulted man threatened. Clearly, he was not entertained.
“Your wife does that for me.” The response brought more snorting and mocking from the group of morons surrounding me.
“You’re dead to me, bro!”
Of course, I couldn’t see who these men were – not that I cared to. I was living in a blackened world courtesy of a hood over my head, its itchy fabric grating against my sweaty, irritated skin. A noxious smell – a combination of stale alcohol, urine, and sweat – filled my nostrils and burned my lungs with each breath.
While the men around me continued their crude banter, insulting each member of the others family, I tried in vain to ease the relentless pounding in my head. The restraints around my wrists and ankles prevented any movement. Pins and needles ran a vicious circuit through my limbs and I hated myself for bringing the aggravated sensations to life.
The vehicle took a sudden swerve to the right, causing my body to roll twice on the floor and onto the feet of my captives.
“Eh, what the fuck, coño! Keep it on the road before you kill us all.”
“Fuck you!” sounded a pissed off voice from the front.
“No, fuck you, puto. How fucking hard is it to drive?”
“Get the hell off me,” said the same irate voice. A vicious booted kick smashed with precision into my back between ribs and my restrained hands, sending me rolling off the man’s foot. The unexpected assault left me gasping and coughing desperately for air and in the background above the noise of the engine, I could hear someone tell me to shut up.
Heat radiated through the floor of the van, causing sweat to layer and drip down my body. My mouth was parched, leaving me practically begging my saliva glands to produce some moisture yet my tongue remained as dry as desert soil. After a few moments of intense concentration, I deduced the range of heavily-accented voices belonged to at least four men who surrounded me plus one or two in the front.
Abruptly, the conversation came to a halt and I could feel their curious gazes on me. My heart pounded painfully in my chest, a dull ache seizing my body. Too afraid to move again in case my attacker felt compelled to deliver another blow, I remained perfectly still while trying to send my mind back to what I had been doing before this nightmare began.
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LITTLE DOLL(Bittersweet Series, Book 1)
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In the mood for something lighter?
TEQUILA NIGHTS is a contemporary Romance/comedy.
PROLOGUE
A penis.
That’s how this whole debacle started.
Granted, it was classically beautiful and attached to a spectacular looking man who wore an even more spectacular smile.
But that there was the problem.
When the penis broke from its statue stillness and moved across the studio toward me—smile in tow—I knew I was in for a world of pain.
Good, pleasurable pain.
CHAPTER 1
There was a buzz outside the studio while we waited for the Professor to arrive. Murmurs, whispers, all carrying an excited edge. Dropping my shoulder bag to my feet I stared over the balcony and took in the city view. My art classes always fell early evening so catching the sun disappearing behind the skyline of buildings was always a stunning sight.
As the banter continued behind me breaking the spell, I honed my senses into what they were all saying. Through the fits of giggles, I couldn’t quite piece the puzzle together and I doubted they were even following themselves.
“Have you heard?” Marge approached from behind, her own voice suggestive.
I met her excited gaze and noticed a new sparkle in her usually tired eyes. She was twenty years older than me and a self-proclaimed lonely spinster, so to see her in such a tizz only made me smile.
“No, I only just arrived. What’s happening?”
“Word has it we’re in for a treat.” Marge looked coy, winking behind her glasses as she said the word ‘treat.’
“I’m not following, Marge.”
“Professor Lindsay was seen talking to a rather finely sculptured man downstairs. We know she always walks up with the models.”
If what Marge was saying was indeed correct, we were in for a treat. Our still-life drawing Professor placed great emphasis on the extremes. The technical difficulty of drawing skeletal forms or the beauty of line with excessive curves. There was a little gray area which often meant we either had life models with protruding bones or who were morbidly obese. Rarely was there anything in between and most commonly they were women. Tonight it seemed, was our lucky night.
Movement behind Marge caught my attention. It was Professor Lindsay and the model in question, as they exited the elevator on the sixth-floor balcony we were all standing on. They were on the other end at least a hundred yards away and in the twilight it was difficult to make out any features. Entering the door furthest away, they both disappeared, the murmurs and whispers on the balcony now of hot anticipation.
***
Anyone would think we were all sex starved.
Maybe we were.
On the average Monday night, we would stagger in mustering all the enthusiasm we could manage for a beginning of the week class. Tonight? I witnessed hormonally imbalanced, undersexed, ravenous women bulldoze their way into the studio vying fo
r prime positioning.
Marge had been there one second, gone the next, leaving her unfinished sentence about her dogs eczema patch suddenly cut short when she heard the doors open. Abandoned, I waited and watched in amusement as the hysteria suddenly died off and the women feigned their shy composure. Being the last to enter I took my solo walk past the solitary, gown covered figure positioned on the center box. Despite keeping my eyes glued to my station, I could feel myself blush. It was ridiculous. I wasn’t sex starved. I had BOB and he was very accommodating and entertained me on many a lonely night. I could only reason that the hype from the other women was rubbing off on me.
Placing my bag between the easel feet, I retrieved my sketching kit and peered over my shoulder to Marge. She was rolling back and forth on her heels and toes like she was a horse at the gate-busting to get out, her energy so unlike her ‘norm.’ Still, she managed to give another wink, her face turning a darker shade of red.
Professor Lindsay’s shrill voice filtered through the connecting room, her conversation with the phone coming to an abrupt end. “Ladies, ladies, ladies,” she addressed us all, an unmistakable glimmer in her eyes revealing her own excitement. God. There was so much wrong with this situation.
Everyone remained abnormally quiet, apparently too nervous to voice their approval of the only man in the room.
“We’re late to start,” the Professor continued. “But I can sense the anticipation in the class, so please prepare yourselves while Leo undresses.” I know I wasn’t the only one who heard her voice falter at the last word. When she smiled suggestively at Leo, I could see her teeth stained with a burgundy hue. Was she drunk?
Despite the instruction to prepare no one moved a muscle. Except for me. Well, it was a half attempt. I moved slowly with one eye locked on the movement in the middle of the room. No way was I being the only one to miss out on the grand reveal. When he stood, I got to see his face for the first time. Chiseled and tanned with large, dark but engaging eyes. He looked to be Spanish, maybe South American and with cheekbones I could lick for days. Thinking of doing just that, I found my mouth to be dry. Parched like a seven-year drought. Without any water, I moved my cheeks to energize my saliva glands. Leo stood strong and confident, a born natural at stripping his clothes off to a group of panting women. Untying the white belt with deliciously capable hands, the sides of the gown gaped open and so did my mouth.