by Max Henry
Sully turns the Escalade into the parking lot for the mall and brings the car to a stop. He twists in his seat and looks at me over his shoulder. “Four hours. I’m risking my neck leaving you alone, so don’t do anything stupid. Understood?”
I hold up my phone, showing him the time on the screen. “Four hours. Noted.”
My legs bop impatiently as Sully gets out and opens my door. “I’ll be back in this exact spot to get you. If I can’t get a space close by, I’ll double park, so make sure you’re here.”
I nod, rocking in my seat with my purse on my lap, willing him to get out of the damn way and let me out. He steps aside and I leap into a quick walk, waving him off over my shoulder. My legs ache with the need to run, but I don’t want him to get too suspicious. There’s nothing off about me being eager—it’s been three months since I’ve been anywhere alone. But running? Yeah, it’s not the Black Friday sales.
The doors to the elevator open, and I walk inside, turning in time to see Sully back out of the park. As soon as the doors slide shut, I have my phone awake and a message to King underway.
I’m here.
I’d let him know last night what mall I’d be at. The display illuminates, my heartbeat quickens as it does. Besides Mama, he’s the only other thing that helps me get up each morning. Life under Carlos’s oppression is hard—too hard some days.
On my way.
He said he’d wait nearby so he didn’t get spotted. The elevator doors open, and I step out into the street, finding a bench to sit on while I scroll through to Mama’s number and hit dial. It rings. And rings. And rings some more before the telco disconnects.
I swallow down the rising sickness.
Something’s wrong. I know it.
If only I had another way to reach her. I ring anybody official, and questions will be asked about my hasty marriage after Papa’s death, and who I’m married to. I can’t afford to draw that kind of attention to Carlos and mess things up.
Where are we meeting?
I sit and wait for King to reply, aware that he’s unable to while he rides. He’ll be here soon, with me. Relief hits me so hard that I fight back the urge to cry. I’ve been living minute to minute in this lie that I’m doing okay for too long, and the stress is taking its toll on my mental health. I’m not okay. I’m married to a drug lord to save Mama from drug lords. Go figure . . .
I lose myself watching the people walk by, looking at what they wear, which stores the bags they carry are from, and imagine what each of their lives must be like. Women with children, businessmen, businesswomen—they all have somewhere to go, a life to live.
I wonder what they think when they see me? What do they think my story is?
The rumble of a motorcycle grows and echoes off the shop-fronts, snapping me from my daydream. My heartbeat is a soft whoosh in my ears as I spin around and watch him pull up on the side of the road behind me. King backs the bike in, head down as he watches the back wheel. He kicks the stand out, removes his helmet, and turns to look over his shoulder at me before he dismounts.
“Hey, baby.” He grins and steps toward me as I stand from the bench and move toward him also.
“Hey.” I lean in with my hands on his chest for stability and give him a chaste kiss. “I wasn’t sure if you’d get in touch.”
He smirks, eyeing me head to toe. “Jesus, woman. You think I’d ever be able to say no to you?”
“Probably has the same likelihood of me being able to stay away from you, huh?” I move a hand to his shoulder, sweeping it over the rise of his traps. “You look good.”
“You look fuckin’ amazing.” He bends quickly and catches the hem of my dress with his fingers, flicking it up before letting it billow back to my legs. “I like this.”
Anybody else and I would have slapped them to the ground for that, but with King? I’m wondering why I wore panties.
He tips his head to the side and scratches at his neck. “You want to do this here, or somewhere else?”
“Here, of course,” I sass. “I’ve got a thing for exhibitionism.”
He smiles and nods to the bike. “You know what I mean. Get on before I make what you said true.”
We ride out of town, and my heart soars when he pulls into the same cabins we’d stayed at last time. He even manages to get us the same room number. It’s nothing special; a two-room cabin set out amongst nine others just like it, but in a world where not much is just for us, it’s ours. It’s one of the few places that I don’t have memories of Carlos.
With a kick from King’s boot, the door is shut and I’m left staring down the only man in my life who has been able to make my legs literally buckle with a look alone. His dark blond hair is ruffled from riding and falls in messy sections over his forehead. The lengths draw my gaze down to his intense green eyes that watch me do a slow take of him. I swallow as his full lips tip up on one side.
His eyes roam over my body, and of all the things to think about, I realize I’m still wearing the plain wedding band Carlos made me put on. I clasp my hands behind my back, not ready to tell him just yet, and wriggle it off, throwing it to the carpeted living area with a flick of my wrist. Must remember to look for it later.
“What was that?”
Damn it. “What?”
“Did you just throw something behind you?” He marches around me, making the tiny cabin look like a shoebox with his size.
“No.” I catch him by the sides of his cut and try to tug his hard body to mine. It’s like trying to move a rock.
“I saw something land over here.” He stoops down and picks up the damn ring, holding it between his thick fingers. “What’s this?”
“Do we have to talk about it now?” I snap. Selfish as it is, I wanted to spend time with him first, time without something as problematic as this ruining the mood.
“Yes, we do.” He holds it out before him. “Why did you throw it away?”
The way he looked at me a second before, I was ready to skip straight to the bedroom. Now? He’s making me mad at him, not that any of this is his fault. My anger toward him is unjustified, but I can’t stop the way I feel—I need an outlet, and unfortunately he’s the closest one.
“I didn’t want you seeing it.”
“Is it . . .” He turns it over in his palm. “Is it a wedding ring?”
“Bravo.” I stomp past him and slump into the only armchair, my hands jammed between my knees.
“You tied the knot then?” He cocks one eyebrow at me. It’s the sexiest thing at the worst time.
“Yes.” I feel like a teenager admitting to the sheriff that I tagged the side of the local hall.
His back finds the wall, and he lifts both eyebrows as he checks the ring out. I launch from the chair, annoyed that he’s managed to ruin the mood, or perhaps that Carlos has ruined it without even being here, and try to take the ring from him.
“Uh-uh.” He closes his fist around it and holds it over his head. “Tell me why the fuck you went through with it.”
“I don’t see what difference it makes.” I jump, trying to get it from him, but my hands keep slipping off his wrist, failing to get him to even move. His belt buckle and the studs on his leather cuff scratch at my flesh as I throw myself against him, doing what I can to wrestle his hand down.
“It matters to me,” he growls. “I’m tryin’ to understand this whole thing. You said you don’t love him, so why do it?”
I sigh, shoulders slumping as I quit my struggle against him. “I’m married to the asshole so I don’t get deported.”
King’s brow pinches and he throws the gold band across the other side of the room as though the act of touching it disgusts him. In a way, I understand. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d leave it off as well.
I gasp as he wraps his huge hands around my upper arms and holds me firm. He looks hurt. “If you were that fuckin’ desperate to stay here, I would have done it.” He lets me go with a shove and storms the three steps it takes him to
cross the room. “Why him?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
He lets out a bitter laugh and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling with his back to me. “Yeah, right. So his money and status had nothin’ to do with it?”
“Is that what you think of me?” I look around and grab the closest thing—a stack of tourism pamphlets—and throw them at him.
They hit his back with a dull thwap before skittering to the floor and slowly fanning out over the carpet. He turns around to face me, brow tight. Whoops. “You fuckin’ throw shit at me again and I will fuckin’ tie your hands behind your back until we’re done. Got it?”
Yes, sir. Why the hell does that sound so appealing? I look around for something else to throw when he closes the gap between us and then bends a little to level our gaze. Lines pinch around the sides of his eyes as he looks over my face. “Why didn’t you have a choice, Elena?”
His question makes me second-guess everything I’ve done. Could I have got away if I tried a little harder? I didn’t even run when we got out of the car the night Papa died. I never risked it to know if I would have stood a chance at escaping.
I just took Carlos’s threats as gospel and assumed I couldn’t.
“Mama, she lives in Cuba still.” I drop my gaze to the floor. “She’s in trouble, and I can’t get her here without help. He said he’d pay for her to fly to America.”
“If you married him?”
I nod, burying my face in my hands. “He says something about another way I can be useful to him, another reason to keep me around, but he won’t tell me what.”
King lets out a heavy breath. His hands gently circle my wrists and he forces me to show my face. “Is your mama on her way then?”
“No. He won’t talk about her—shuts me down every time I ask. I don’t really understand what he’s trying to do with me.” Now that the fight has gone, I’m tired. All I want to do is lie down, but King’s hands on my wrists keep me upright. I slump against his hold anyway, hoping he’ll let me go.
He picks me up instead, and guides my legs around his hips. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I rest my head on his shoulder and let him carry me over to the armchair. He sits carefully on the edge, giving me space for my legs that are still wrapped behind him.
“We can talk more about it later,” he says quietly, stroking a firm hand over the back of my head. “For now, I just want to enjoy being able to touch you again.”
My heart breaks. He’s so perfect, and yet he’ll never truly be mine.
“I feel safe with you,” I whisper, tightening my hold. “I feel like this is all there should be.”
“It could be.”
A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “Yeah, right. In what world?”
“Ours.”
I wish it were so easy. But everything comes with a price. I’m never going to have much more than this, right here.
And it hurts.
“I have four hours,” I say. “Sully will be waiting for me at the mall.” I glance across to where my purse lies. “It’s probably closer to three hours once we take off the time to get back.”
“Then we have three hours,” he says, guiding my head off his shoulder, “where I get to give you a break for a few minutes here and there.”
Three hours. I’d take three minutes of time alone with him if that was all I was offered.
I lean back, taking his face in my hands and stroking my palms over his cheeks. “Show me what it could be like. Can we pretend? Spend the whole time in bed like this is our lazy Sunday?”
“Sounds perfect.” His lips twitch up in a small smile, and I trace the movement with my thumb.
His breath catches as I lean forward and place my lips hesitantly on his. The soft lengths of his beard tickle my chin. I move my lips slowly over his, feeling the tempo of his warm breath increase as I do. We kissed before, but this is so different. Before was in the heat of passion, stealing what we could in case there was only the one time. But now, I have the time to show him how deeply he affects me. He closes his eyes and mimics my movements, gently pinching my bottom lip between his. I shuffle about as we repeat the tender touch, allowing him to tug my dress from underneath me so he can roam his hands up the inside over my back.
The moment is slow, and thoughtful. Each path of my hands over his shoulders, chest, and arms is done with precision. I’m mind-mapping my perfect man. Committing him to memory. Saving some for later.
“Take these off and sit back down.” King tugs the side of my panties, leaning back to give me room to get up.
His eyes track me as I stand and shimmy the lace down my thighs and over my knees, and then kick them aside. His tattooed hands move in his lap at the same time to unbuckle his belt. I watch the thick veins move over his forearms as he tugs on the leather strap and pulls the belt free of the buckle. The dome on his jeans pops with a flick of his thumb, and he follows it up by tugging the zipper down.
The man isn’t wearing any boxers. He’s going commando underneath all that denim and leather. Save me . . . I’m surely going to die—my heart can’t handle those kind of surprises right now.
“Get.” He pats his thigh with a heavy hand as he scoots back in the seat.
I scrunch my dress out of the way, climb on his lap, and lower myself down. A hiss escapes between his teeth as the heat of my flesh meets his.
“Jesus, baby. Stay like that. Give me a minute.” His eyes close and he tips his head back on the seat, groaning.
The sound vibrating from his chest causes a rush between my legs. His hips rock slowly, sliding his stiff length through my wet heat, the head pressing as it passes over my tight bundle of nerves. I place both hands on his shoulders to steady myself as the wave of pleasure rips the strength from my muscles. I rock my hips in unison, using the way my knees are braced against the arms of the chair to push myself down harder.
“I’ve been wantin’ your pussy so fuckin’ bad,” he says, placing both hands on my hips to push us together even harder. “I’ve been wantin’ all of you again.”
Our tempo picks up, the rocking growing frantic. The familiar numbness builds in my thighs. “It’s too good,” I moan. The head of his cock bruises my clit, pressing so damn hard.
I could take more.
“That’s it,” he coaxes. “Show me how much you like it.” King slips a thumb onto my nub and rubs hard circles as I pant and grind over his length. If this is how amazing he feels without penetration, what the hell am I in for later?
Bliss—that’s what.
“Tell me when you’re about to come. Don’t you dare come sittin’ over my cock.” His gaze is fixed to his thumb and the frantic movements of my hips.
I’m so close, so deliriously happy. Do I tell him, or do I just ride this out? It’s too good to waste. “I’m close,” I pant. “Oh my God, so close.”
His hands bruise my hips as he grips hard and hoists me up so I’m left squatting, my feet jammed between the cushion and the armrests. My jaw drops as I watch this wide and muscular man writhe and wriggle beneath me with effortless grace so his head is now where his lap used to be.
King braces himself on bent legs, reaches up and takes hold of my hips once more to slam my throbbing pussy down on his face. Holy . . . I come. I fucking explode over him like nothing else as his tongue flicks crazily across my over-worked nerves. The high starts to fade when he inserts two fingers, stoking the fire, and sends me shaking onto another level.
The things he can do.
And we have three hours.
With a satisfied groan, he lifts me off his face. I’m shaking as I grapple for something to steady myself on so he can scoot up the chair again. “Still the sweetest thing I’ve tasted.” His beard glistens with the evidence of my arousal.
I run my palm over his face, wiping the remnants away.
“Ready?” He places his hands over my hips again and guides me down.
I lose focus and cry out as his length fills and stretches me. He s
tarts out slow, easing out and in again, before he builds to the same frantic pace as before. His arms cord, the muscles working hard as he lifts me on each down stroke, dropping me hard as he thrusts up. It’s raw, anger filled, and deserved.
My head pulls back with a twist of his wrist in my hair, and he yanks harder as he comes, still guiding me with the other hand nestled in the small of my back. My inner muscles clench in response, putting pressure on his pulsing cock. He groans between gritted teeth, and gives me a few last pumps before pulling me forward so my head rests on his chest.
“Three hours,” he says with a sigh. “You’re either goin’ to kill me in that time, or have me fuckin’ fit by the end of it.”
TWENTY-FIVE
King
She lay silently on me after we’d finished in the chair, not saying a thing, but not letting go either. The moment was perfect—a glimpse of what lazy Sundays could be like in another life. Her eyes closed, and for a moment there I was pretty sure she fell asleep. Only when it got too hot to be pressed so intimately together did we give in and move to the bedroom.
“Tell me what kind of trouble your mother is in.” I twist my fingers through her dark hair as we lie on the bed. “Is it money?”
“In a way.” Her hand reaches out and she lays a palm over the ink on my pec. “I only know what Carlos has told me.”
“Your mother didn’t tell you abut the trouble herself, then?” I ask.
She pulls her hand away, flexing her fingers in and out of a fist. “I can’t get hold of her. I’ve tried calling, so many times.” Her brow furrows, her eyes glazed.
“And you’re worried about her?” I gently place a hand over hers to trap it against my chest again.
“My head tells me what my heart doesn’t want to believe.”
“Which is?”
“She’s dead. That they’ve already caught up to her and I’m too late.” Elena tries to pull away and roll to the other side of the bed, but I’m not having a bar of it. Just because she’s always dealt with shit like this alone before doesn’t mean she still has to.