Dubious: The Loan Shark Duet (Book 1)

by Charmaine Pauls

  “Goddamn, Valentina. This isn’t an act of kindness or a favor. The reason you’re here is because I wanted you from the moment I first saw you, and a second from now I’m going to fuck you like I’ve been wanting to for a very long time, so you better tell me if you’re having second thoughts.”

  “It’s not that.” She sounds ashamed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Wait…” If she’s not a virgin, but she doesn’t know what to do? A cold feeling of rage unfurls in my gut. Bitterness fills my mouth. The truth lodges like a stake in my heart. “You were raped.”

  “Yes,” she whispers, “but it was a long time ago.”

  The pace of my breathing quickens, changing direction. I go from turned on to raving mad. Fucking furious. I’ll kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands, peel his skin from his body, and cut his muscles from his bones. Forcing back my emotions, I let go of my cock, easing up to cup her cheek.

  Calmly, so as not to frighten her with the force of my anger, I ask, “Only once?” while holding my breath for the answer.

  “Only once.”

  “When?”

  She turns her head to the side.

  I won’t let it go. I need to know. “Look at me.”

  She obeys, her eyes begging me not to push, but the more she holds back, the more uneasy I get.

  I brush my thumb over her cheek. “When?”

  She purses her lips and stares at me with big eyes, as if I’m going to judge her. “I was thirteen.”

  When I lay my hands on that motherfucker he’s going to suffer. There’s only one question left to ask. “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She’s not lying. She doesn’t blink or look away, and her pupils don’t dilate. She was a random victim. I’ll find and kill him for her. If she wants to, I’ll give her the gun and let her shoot him herself. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make the bastard pay.

  I kiss her lips. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know.”

  I’m glad she told me. This will require a different skill and attitude. Technically, she may not be a virgin, but physically, emotionally, and mentally she’s the virgin I took her for.

  Easing over her body, I cup her jaw and hold her in place for my kiss, bruising our lips together. She gasps into my mouth, but lets me take control. As she can’t move her jaw, I’m the one nipping, sucking, and molding my lips around hers, taking and giving and making the moment mine. After a while, she starts fighting me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down for a deeper kiss, her tongue tangling with mine in an urgency that sets me ablaze. I shift my palm from her jaw to her neck, squeezing with dominant control. She embraces the touch, arching up into my hand. I pin her to the mattress with that commanding hold while I shift to her nipples, starting a slow seduction of tongue and teeth on every erogenous zone of her body. I nip the insides of her elbows and bite into the flesh where her pussy meets her thigh. I drag my tongue over the insides of her legs and dig my fingers into her ass, pulling the curvy flesh apart so I can lick down her crack to her pussy. By the time I’ve kissed my way from her feet to her mound, her legs are wrapped around me, and she’s sliding her wet sex over my cock, seeking the friction that will bring her release.

  “I want you,” she whispers, breathing beauty into my room. “I want you, Gabriel. Please.”

  A low groan vibrates in my chest. She’s begging me. She wants me like no other woman has wanted me before––not for my money or protection, but to ease the need I so carefully planted and nurtured inside of her. Her pleasure is mine, and I’m keeping it forever.

  “Oh, God, please.” She digs her nails into my back. “Fuck me, already.”

  We’re both out of control. I need to be lucid, or I risk hurting her, but she has me by the balls––literally––dragging her sharp nails from my sac up my ass and sending me way beyond sanity.

  I grip my shaft and squeeze the root hard, praying the bite of pain will keep me within reason. Pushing up on one arm, I pull myself from the vice of her thighs and part her legs with my knee. When she’s wide and open, I take only a second to enjoy the sight before I lodge the head of my cock in her pussy. Her lips spread wide around my girth, stretching to accommodate all of me. I have precious little control left.

  “Look at me,” I demand.

  She opens her eyes. They’re hazy with desire and smoky with need, but they’re focused on me. I rest my elbows on the mattress so I can cup her face between my hands, needing to catch her expressions like a prayer between my palms. The movement shoves me another inch into her. She gasps, and her eyes widen. She’s tight and hot, her unused channel already pushing to expel the foreign object lodged in her entrance. I push deeper, feeling her like a velvet fist around me. I’m big, and she’s fragile, small. Her slickness helps, but it’s like pushing into a narrow chamber of hot, melting lava. The deeper I go, the more she squirms. I see it all in her face––the shock, pain, trust, and all-consuming need.

  Sweat beads on my brow and torso. My skin is on fire. Her breaths explode from her chest.

  “Gabriel…”

  It’s a plea for mercy. It’s moving too slow. I can drag out the discomfort or make it hurt hard and quick before fucking it all better. Pulling back until only the head of my cock is held in place by the stretching muscle in her opening, I hold on to her face tightly and drive home. Tearing through feminine tissue, I bury myself inside her body as far as I can go. It’s the moment I’ve been dreaming of, of hearing her sounds, seeing her surrender, inhaling the scent of our sex, and feeling her body stretch for my cock. She’s shaking, her fingers digging into my hips.

  “It’s almost over, beautiful. It won’t hurt for long.” I kiss her jaw and move, taking her with long, careful strokes until her body surrenders just like her mind, her tight channel embracing my dick rather than pushing it out.

  Her moans turn to panting. It’s music to my ears. When she throws her head back, I let go of her face, holding only her eyes. I play with her body, petting her breasts and clit as I stroke deeper and faster, taking everything she can give, everything that makes Valentina a woman. I knead and massage until she’s soft and pliant in my arms. She molds like wet, earthy clay under my touch, until her hips start moving to the rhythm of my fingers on her clit.

  And then it’s over.

  She breaks.

  Her body sucks me deeper, catching my cock in a trap of painful ecstasy. Her pupils dilate like shooting stars, and her gaze flies away from me like a comet as she comes and leaves a burning trail in my soul. In this moment, she can ask me anything, and I will bust my balls to give it. I’ll fetch her the moon and the stars, if that’s what she wants, but she only says, “Hold me,” and I give her what she desires.

  * * *

  Valentina

  Gabriel’s arms are safe around me. He’s given me uncountable orgasms, but this one was different. This one was deeper and more intense, stirring the buried emotions I haven’t had the courage to look at for so long. After my assault, I shied away from men. The event prevented me from exploring my sexuality. I was afraid to go down that road in the fear of uprooting everything I experienced that awful night, but what I shared with Gabriel was nothing like that. It was a carnal, guilt-free, and necessary need. He took my freedom and made my body a slave to his, but right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. This is where I belong. This is where he belongs. As much as he took me, I took a part of him, too. I took something of him for myself, and I’ll always keep it in my heart. I feel connected to him as I lie in his embrace, enjoying the afterglow of my orgasm. Now that I’ve had him inside me, I’m hungrier than ever for more. I’m starving for information that goes beyond the sex we share. I want to know why his beautiful physique is broken. I want to know everything about him.

  I slide my hand down his body to trace the scar on his knee. Maybe he’ll tell me tonight. “How did this happen?”

  “Got my kneecap shot away by one of o
ur rivals,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “And this?” I stroke his hip.

  “Baseball bat.”

  “And this?” As I’m about to cup his cheek, he catches my hand.

  “Shrapnel. Explosion. A debtor tried to blow us up with the building where he was laundering the money he stole from us.”

  “Did he survive?”

  He gives me a forced smile. “What do you think?”

  “Have you ever considered having it fixed?” I ask as gently as I can.

  He replies in a cold voice. “This is fixed.”

  Horror, not because of the ugliness, but because of the sadness, invades me. How did he look before, if this is after?

  He utters a small sigh. “My bones were crushed. Underneath the skin, there’s mostly metal. The risk of the muscles collapsing with more plastic surgery is too high.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist, holding him tight to me. Saying his mask of pain doesn’t bother me will only sound frivolous, even if it’s true.

  I rest my cheek on his chest. “Your foot?”

  All of his muscles go tense. It takes him several seconds before he relaxes under me again. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to tell me, he says, “My mother shot me.”

  I barely manage to swallow my gasp. “Why?”

  His tone is flat. “When I turned twelve, she gave me a gun and told me to shoot a man. I couldn’t.”

  A lump in my throat restricts my speaking. I can’t imagine the kind of childhood he had. A part of me relates to that and understands. There’s quiet accord between us as we hold and comfort each other, two damaged people with different scars.

  * * *

  It’s still dark when Gabriel wakes me with a kiss on the mouth. I stretch, feeling the roughness of his loving in the tenderness between my legs, even if he’s been as gentle as I guess he can be.

  “Good morning.” He nips my bottom lip.

  His cock is hard against my hip, a reminder of last night and of what I can have again.

  “Gabriel.” My voice is breathy.

  He chuckles. “If I weren’t so concerned about not letting you sleep enough, I would’ve been buried between your thighs an hour ago.”

  I shiver at the thought, desire making me wet.

  A shadow creeps into his eyes. “You have to go. Carly will be up soon.”

  It’s a logical comment, but it hurts, and that’s a surprise. Maybe it’s because creeping down the dark hallway like I have something to hide, like what I did with Gabriel belongs to the shadows, kills the emotional upsurge of last night.

  “You’re right.” I sit up, clutching the sheet to my breasts.

  Groping around under the sheets, I find my nightgown and underwear and pull them on. As I swing my feet off the bed, he grabs my arm. I pause, but I don’t look back at him. I’m scared he’ll see what I feel in my eyes. That I care.

  He kisses my shoulder and brushes his lips up the curve of my neck to my ear. When he releases me, I take it as my cue to leave. I close his bedroom door quietly behind me and glance down the hallway to make sure it’s clear before I sneak back to my room. The room looks empty and cold. Out of nowhere, I have an attack of inexplicable loneliness, followed by a bout of guilt because Oscar is sleeping alone on my pillow.

  I pick him up and hug him to my chest. “Poor baby. I’m sorry I left you all alone last night.”

  He purrs and rubs his face against my jaw, not halfway as unsettled as I am.

  * * *

  Gabriel

  There’s not much information in the country Anton can’t lay his hands on, so when he tells me Lambert Roos’ phone records have been wiped, I know the rat I smelled is real. I order Anton to dig into Lambert’s history, present and past, and to flag anything suspicious that comes up, especially pertaining to the Haynes family. Lambert did business with Marvin. I want to know why he stopped brokering the car cloning business after Marvin’s accident. I also want to know who Valentina’s rapist is, but I’ll have to get more information from her, a delicate situation I don’t look forward to. I already checked the police records. The family didn’t report her rape. My own research produced nothing helpful.

  The remainder of my time is dedicated to preparing for tonight’s dinner meeting. Despite her protests, I ship Carly off to Sylvia for the weekend. I don’t want her around for the dinner party, not with the guests Magda invited. We’ll be catering for the Ferreira drug cartel men, Jeremy, the owner, and his son and future heir, Diogo. It’s tough enough stomaching the political pawns Magda likes to entertain. I don’t like hosting drug thugs in our home, but Magda is wheeling a deal to open a new financing franchise in Westdene, the heart of Jeremy’s territory.

  From the minute they walk through the door, I dislike them. Jeremy has the close-set eyes of a crocodile who acts asleep to snatch his non-suspecting prey. He grabs my hand in a jovial shake, treating me like his long-lost son, while Diogo, a smooth, handsome man in his late twenties, gives me a measuring look that tells me he finds me too short, not in the literal sense, of course. He may be ten years younger than me and blessed with a whole body, but I have years of experience over him and a darkness he can’t begin to understand.

  They kiss Magda’s hand and accept the cocktails and hors d’oeuvres she offers in the lounge. Their chitchat and pretense at civility irritate me. If it was up to me, I would’ve cut through the bullshit and gotten to the point. We want exclusivity in their area. They want our money. Simple. We pay a kickback, and no other loan sharks get in. A deal also guarantees that we don’t fuck with them, and they don’t kill our men.

  Magda navigates through a whole family tree of questions about their wives, kids, grandmothers, and whatnot before she finally announces dinner is served. The tux I’m wearing for the occasion, these affairs being sordidly formal, is too hot. I hook a finger between my neck and the collar of my evening shirt and tug. The bowtie gives marginally, but I only breathe easier when Valentina walks into the room in her somber black dress and hair pulled back in a neat bun in the nape of her neck.

  I watch her unabashedly as she serves our starters. The curve of her neck is long and elegant. Her fingers are slender, but they serve with efficient and sure movements, not spilling a drop of the gazpacho soup. A smell of raspberry fills my nostrils as she brushes past me, the fabric of her dress touching my chair. She’s present in all of my senses, even in my thoughts with a memory of how her body surrendered to mine last night. My cock hardens. It’s a good thing we’re seated.

  It’s hard to tear my attention away from her, but I need to concentrate on the negotiation and the subtle nuances of the conversation. I’m good at reading body language. I may not say much, but if our partners try to fuck us over, I’m always the first to get the hunch. With difficulty, I return my attention to the people seated at the opposite side of the table, but as I lift my eyes, I notice the way Diogo stares at Valentina. Anger explodes in my body and courses through my veins. The only thing that prevents me from reaching over the table and drowning him in his bowl of soup is that Valentina leaves the room, cutting his ogling short. I can’t wait for this night to be over.

  Halfway through the main meal, we come to an agreement. The minute we shake hands on the deal, Magda’s tenseness evaporates. She becomes the engaging hostess she’s known for, drawing Jeremy into a friendly argument about the opposing rugby teams they support. Diogo asks for directions to the bathroom and excuses himself.

  The skin between my shoulder blades pinches. I push back my chair. “Excuse me. I’m going to check on dessert.”

  Magda shoots me a look, but I’m blind to the annoyance in her eyes. My soles are quiet in the carpeted hallway. In the entrance to the kitchen, I come to an abrupt halt. Valentina has her back pushed against the wall and a kitchen knife aimed at Diogo.

  12

  Gabriel

  The knife in Valentina’s hand makes me see images that will haunt me forever. A million scenarios pop into my head. The thou
ght of Valentina hurt or Diogo’s hands on her, pulls me from reason into a state of madness. In a flash, I pounce on Diogo, throwing him on the floor. I slam his face into the tiles and pin him down with my knees, my fists pounding into his ribs. The sounds of his strangled grunts and bone cracking aren’t enough. I want him to cough up blood until his lungs drown in it.

  “Gabriel!”

  Valentina’s voice pierces the ugly bubble of my rage. The piece of shit under me is struggling for his life. Slowly, I return to the distant part of humanity inside me, the little that’s left in my soul. Magda and Jeremy come running into the room, probably alarmed by Valentina’s scream.

  “What in God’s name?” Magda grabs my arm and tries to pull me off the man sprawled out on the floor.

  I shake her off, but it’s Valentina’s round, fearful eyes that beckon me to let the scumbag go.

  Getting to my feet, I adjust my jacket. “Get up, you son of a bitch.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Jeremy takes Diogo by his shoulders to help him to his feet.

  Pulling him up is a struggle. It looks like he has trouble breathing. I must’ve knocked the wind out of him and broken a few ribs. His nose is bleeding from the blow on the tiles.

  Magda flutters around him like a hen. “Gabriel! Are you out of your mind?”

  I jab a finger at Diogo. “If you put a finger on her, asshole, you’re dead.”

  Magda and Jeremy turn their heads toward Valentina. She’s still standing with her back against the wall, her body trembling and her eyes fixed on Diogo.

  I take the knife from her hand and leave it on the counter. Lowering my head, I put us on eye level. “Look at me.” Once I have her undivided attention, I ask, “Did he touch you?”

  “No,” she whispers.

  Magda starts speaking, but I cut her short. “What did he do?”

  “He wanted to–to…”

  She doesn’t have to say it. I know men like Diogo. I know the things they want to do. I turn to Diogo with cold calculation. “If I didn’t walk in here, what were you going to do?”