You’re so big, she screams. I want more.
I give up the spanking because I need both hands to hold her hips for my furious rutting. I pant and grip tighter. I wrench her body flush against mine and she rides me, reverse-cowboy-style. The ocean water tickles our knees, and I have one hand feverishly working her clit while the other clamps her torso to me.
Her head twists around and we kiss in a savage meeting of teeth and tongues. I work her harder and she creams all over me again and again.
My breath comes out in tiny irregular gasps and the thick head of my cock pulses beneath my hand.
A scratch against the rock has me flicking my eyes open.
She’s awake and her big eyes are round with emotion. Wonder? Disgust? Confusion?
I can’t read it because lust has clouded my vision. I don’t close my eyes, though, and recapture the beach, her ass, her screams because real Ava is better than dream Ava even if she’s across the fire from me. Even if she’s fucking terrified of my beast.
Shit, who can blame her? I’d be terrified if I was a girl, even a big-hipped beauty like Ava.
She can’t take me. No one can.
I rub myself roughly knowing that this is the only pleasure I’ll know, other than a one-time hand job that might come my way if I open my wallet. I can pay for that. I can pay for a mouth or even two. But I’ll never feel anyone’s cunt walls around my cock, especially not the angel across from me.
But I use her anyway. She stares at me and I stare right back, rubbing and tugging and imagining her rising from her bed and coming over to me and taking me all in from tip to root.
“It’s just a hand job,” I grit out in a perverse echo of her earlier words.
Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. “Why don’t you let me help you?”
“Because I want it too much.” I can’t keep the honesty back, not when her luminous eyes follow my every movement. And then as the orgasm winds all my nerves and tendons tight, I close my eyes and explode in my hands. For all the buildup, the release is less than satisfying.
When I look across the fire, she’s on her knees. A chill hits me.
Now that she’s had me in her hands, this half-baked satisfaction is all that’s left for me. Anger fills me up and then drains away as quickly as it came. How is this her fault? It’s a curse.
My madre told me this when I was ten and my cock was the size of a beer bottle. I was given a girl breaker. That’s what she called it because I only lived to hurt women. I was the devil’s spawn, she said. My mother was violated and she became pregnant but the baby girl was eaten by the baby boy in the womb. When I grew older, I was the image of her rapist and my cock was the instrument of the devil.
She tried to beat the demon out of me but it didn’t work. I had to take a life before I believed.
“How’d you kill the girl?” she asks, breaking into my reverie.
I use the sand again to clean myself up and shove my used cock down my pants in hopes that it will forget about sex.
“You’re pretty hard up if you want to hear snuff stories before you go to bed,” I mock.
Instead of getting upset, she tilts her head and inspects me. “You’re pretty hot when you’re angry.”
Whether she said it to cool my jets or make me laugh, I’m not sure, but it works. I start laughing and she cracks a smile in response. Jesus, this girl.
I suppose she deserves an answer. It could even serve as a warning and then maybe she’d stop looking at me like I had something worthwhile to give her. Public service announcement: Big dick can kill. Also, I’m an asshole.
I lean back on my not very comfortable rock and start talking. “When I was fifteen, an older girl asked me to prom. I was stoked. She had heard a rumor about my size and wanted to find out if it was true. I’d only made out with a couple other girls and both had run away when we got to the heavy petting stage, but this girl had experience and was tired of her pencil-dick teenage lovers.”
“Her words or yours?”
“Hers. That’s how she asked me out. ‘Hey, Rafael, the word on the street is you have a monster in your pants. How about you let me pop your cherry after prom. The pencil dicks I’ve been dating couldn’t find the G-spot if it was a map in Quake.’ Prom was three weeks away and I followed her like a puppy. We made out a few times leading up to the event and so she felt me up under my pants, under my shorts. She knew what she was getting into and I figured—given her experience—that she’d know if I was too big. When she didn’t call off the date, I figured we were good to go. Prom night comes. It’s pretty much a blur because I’m just a walking hard-on at this point.”
Ava laughs. “I can’t believe she made such a production out of this.”
I shrug. “I rented a hotel room, we took our clothes off, and Godzilla pops out. When she sees it, her excitement level drops to about a five and she’s at maybe two when I get the condom on. But she wasn’t going big game hunting in the north without returning with her bagged and tagged trophy, so she opened her legs and told me to put it in.”
“For an experienced girl, it doesn’t sound like either of you did much prep,” she observed.
“I was fifteen and a virgin. I didn’t know what foreplay was. I figured that was feeling her up under her clothes, which I had done. And she seemed excited enough.”
“So did you pull out a knife and stab her? Shoot her in the head when she didn’t come? I mean, how do you get from prom night to morgue?”
“I breached her. She died. End of story.”
She makes a face. She wants more. She wants to hear the whole gory thing. About the fountain of blood. The way her brothers mutilated me in retaliation for touching their sister. The way that my mother viewed me as a curse and crossed herself a dozen times whenever I came near. But all she needs to know is that the only way I can protect her is to keep my fucking hands off her.
“Breached? Like you didn’t even go all the way in?” I nod. “I don’t think you can kill someone with your penis,” she frowns. “She died right there? Right in front of you?”
I grimace. “No, she died two days later. But there was a lot of blood.” I close my eyes trying to forget, but the vision of that girl and the blood between her legs and around my dick is painted on the back of my lids. I pop my eyes open and stare at her. Better. Much better.
“Was she having her period?”
“Can we stop talking about it?”
“I guess, but I still don’t think you killed her.” I open my mouth to recite the facts again but she holds up her good hand. “No, I get that you believe you did. I doubt medical science would back you up.”
“I tried to have sex with her. She bled horribly. She died two days later.” Her brothers took me out and beat me within an inch of my life and I was grateful for each blow. “Those are the facts.”
She reaches out and her hand lands on my knee. I jump because I didn’t realize she was so close. “Is celibacy your atonement? Because I’m sure you didn’t kill that girl.”
I turn on my side, away from her sympathy and the soft light in her eyes. I can’t have that. “I’m sure I did.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RAFAEL
It takes a long time to get to sleep but eventually I will myself into some sort of suspended consciousness. The next morning, the jungle wakes at dawn as the night predators give way to the day ones.
Ava is sleeping. Half her body is coated with mud. Her hand and wrist are still swollen and there are scratches and insect bites on much of her exposed skin. Her hair is matted and wound together in such a state that there could be birds nesting in there. I’ve never seen anyone so fucking beautiful, so fucking desirable.
I want to scoop her up and bathe her in the warm rain until she is nothing but milk white skin highlighted by rosy flashes of arousal. My pants are tight but I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I will always be aroused when she’s near. Hell, when she leaves I’ll probably be aroused by the thought of her.
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Outside I gather more kindling and throw it at the mouth of the cave. If we have to, we’ll return here, but staying another night would mean that we’ve made no progress getting out of the jungle. And we need to go. Ava’s hand needs medical attention and I need to figure out how I’m going to negotiate with Uncle Sam to get Davidson back without the information.
Placing the water bottle along with two pieces of grilled snake meat on a rock near the fire, I head north to see if I can find any more pieces of wreckage. The first twenty minutes yield nothing but pupunha fruit. We could roast these tonight. The sweetness of the fruit would be tasty after the dry, rubbery snake. I fill my pockets and move on.
To the left there’s a gap in the foliage, as if someone or something jumped into the middle and didn’t leave. I poke around with my bamboo stick but nothing moves. A machete would be good about now.
A busy brown and gold pattern not known to be found in the Amazon catches my eye. With slow and measured movements, I gently push the brush aside. Under a branch, the purse lies looking almost showroom perfect. The branch undulates and the green markings of an emerald tree boa appear.
He’s not going to like me disturbing his resting spot. It’s possible I can tug the purse out from under the branch without disturbing the boa. Possible, but not likely.
What the hell, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I bring my bamboo stick down slowly until the brush falls back into place. The leather handle of the purse is still visible through the palm fronds and ferns. Like it’s a game of Operation, I slide the stick forward until it just kisses the edge of the loop. A few flicks and I have the handle caught on the end. The bag scratches on the ground but the branch above it doesn’t budge.
“You’ll thank me for this later,” I tell the snake. His tongue comes out in disagreement, but he makes no moves from his resting spot. I inch the purse out one agonizing tug at a time until it’s finally at my feet. I pick it up and flip it over. The bottom is bare. This is the real deal, not the fake we’d mocked up.
The sun’s position indicates I’ve been gone for about forty minutes. That’s too long to leave Ava alone. Sticking the bag under my arm, I hurry back. I find her crouching behind a rock about thirty feet from the entrance.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, hunkering down by her side.
Her tense muscles relax slightly but she remains alert. “Some guy went into the cave while I was using the facilities.”
“Pissing?”
She frowns but nods her head. Apparently we can be in the jungle but we can’t talk about shitting and pissing.
I reach down and tug on the leather belt she has wrapped around her wrist. Smart girl. Always so smart. Reluctantly she releases the buckle and I take up the knife. We both know I’m better with it but even beyond that I get anxious without a weapon. I hate not having a gun or a bigger blade than one that fits inside my belt. Still, I can gut someone with this.
Placing the bag between us, I tap the top, motioning for Ava to sit down.
“What’s he look like? Native? Other?”
“Other. I think . . . I think it might be Afonso. He had a gun and big knife.” She stretches her hands about three feet apart.
“A fair fight, then.” I tighten the belt around my hand.
“What about that?” She points upward. Sitting on top of the mouth of the cave is a puma and she looks hungry. “If someone is in there, why not just let the cat eat him?”
“Bloodthirsty, I like it.” I nod in approval. “But if we want anything on him, like his gun or his knife, the puma might take it into the tree with her and then we have to kill the puma. We don’t want to do that.”
“No, no.” She looks horrified. “No killing the puma.”
I don’t tell her that it’s more likely the puma kills us than we kill the puma with my three-inch blade and a handbag.
First things first. Afonso and the puma can wait.
I reach in and pull out the folders.
“How long did you watch me?” she asks as I scan the contents.
“A while.”
“And in hired gun terms, what does that equal?”
“Long enough to know your favorite morning drink is milk and sugar with two drops of coffee. Is that like flavored milk?”
She punches me lightly on the arm.
The folders reveal nothing. It is just a bunch of emails and transcriptions of phone calls. It’s innocuous stuff but I can see that it implies that there’s more and better or more dangerous shit where this came from.
Behind me, the puma shifts. She hears something. We’ll have to think about this later. I flip the folders shut and pull the pupunha fruit from my pocket. The small plum-sized fruits are hard and perfect for throwing. I rise and whip three in quick succession across into the jungle underbrush. A bird flies out and the puma leaps forward to investigate.
As the puma leaves, I take off at a run, ordering Ava to stay by the bag. The resulting noise has the intended effect and Afonso sticks his neck out of the cave. I launch myself forward straight into his chest. He flies back with a thud.
I have the element of surprise on my side and I’m able to knock one weapon out of his hands. The gun goes skittering to the side.
His other hand grips a machete tight. He must have found that in the plane wreckage. One of the businessmen must have been preparing for a jungle jaunt and packed it in his stored luggage. I want it.
A fist hits me in the damaged eye, and my vision blurs enough so that I almost don’t see the blade slicing toward my face.
I kick out blindly and hear a grunt. There’s a crack and then a cry of pain.
I roll to the left and the blade crashes into the dirt.
“Where is it?” Afonso snarls.
I stay low to the ground, crouching as he circles me.
“Outside.” There’s no point in pretending I don’t have it. His eyes flicker toward the opening and I use that minute distraction to leap forward. My momentum drives us backward. He slices down with the blade and I feel it cut into my skin but I don’t stop. I keep moving until his back slams into the rock wall of the cavern. If I die in here, Ava won’t make it. Afonso will find her. He’ll rape her and then he’ll leave her broken body to the animals.
I fall back and drive him forward again. The blade cuts deeper. I feel the warm river of blood spilling down the valley of my spine.
I have little time. If the blade hits a spinal nerve, I’m done for. I power forward, driving my shoulder under his blade hand.
He cries out and with my free hand, I bring up my belt knife and stab it forward and twist. The scream of pain he releases could be heard at the basin of the Amazon. I pull out the knife and drive it again, just to get him to shut the hell up.
His body goes limp beneath mine. Taking two steps back, I fall on my knees. My vision is blurred but his face is a macabre mask. Where his eye once sat, there is only a bloody hole. Beneath it is another stab mark, jagged and round where I turned the knife as hard as I could. I shove his face into the dirt and yell for Ava.
My back feels like it’s on fire but I ignore it as I pat Afonso’s pockets. He’s got a ton of shit in them. Energy packs that look suspiciously like they came from my Boy Scout bag.
Ava stumbles in.
“Check his pack.”
“Your back,” she protests.
“No, supply check first. Any medical supplies?”
I try to stand but when I see black spots instead of Ava and the cave, I drop back to my knees. Blood loss is making me dizzy.
I stagger over to the fire and flick the blade into the coals. Then I grab the gun and check it. No more bullets. Figures. I toss it aside again.
“There’s a tinfoily blanket thing, a prescription bottle full of something. Pain pills?” She sounded hopeful.
“Water purifying tablets.” She sighs in disappointment and I can’t help agreeing with that sentiment. I could use an oxycodone or ten. “A flat plastic thingy. There’s also about ten
energy supplements.”
No rope. No MREs. No lighters. Apparently he found the Boy Scout bag but some stuff had fallen out. The blanket, energy bars, and water purifying tablets were good, though. Very good.
“The plastic thing is a bladder to hold the water and the purification tablets. Are there still embers in the fire?”
“Yes.”
I think I see her stab at it. “I want you to go out to the mouth of the cave. There’s some kindling there. Throw it on the fire. Go over to Afonso’s body. Don’t look at his face but pull off his pants. Wipe down my wound and when it’s clean you’re going to put the hot knife to my skin.”
She sucks in a horrified breath. “I’m not doing that.”
I grab her hand. “You do that or I’ll die.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AVA
Every time I turn around, it seems like things are migrating from bad to worse. A girl can’t even take a pee without someone hijacking her cave. Now, Mendoza’s been stabbed and I feel as if we’ve hit rock bottom on the shit-scale of “things that could go wrong.”
Of course, I shouldn’t say that. Another plane could always crash into the jungle, this time on top of us.
“Then again, that might be a lucky break,” I mutter to myself. Then I shake the thought away. I don’t want to die. I want to live, and it seems like every time we catch a break, something else screws us over.
“More . . . wood on the fire,” Mendoza tells me, stopping my frantic train of thoughts. The wound looks as clean as I’m going to get it. “Make it good and hot.”
“All right,” I say faintly. I push the blade into the coals a little deeper, and add more wood and more leafy debris. I blow on the fire, and the flames leap up. “You tell me when it’s hot enough, okay?”
“When it’s red hot,” he says, unwinding the belt from around his wrist. He bites down on it, and a shiver goes up my spine. Oh God, oh God, this is going to suck.
Moments pass, and Mendoza groans quietly. I know he’s got to be in a lot of pain. I want to wring my hands, but my mangled pinky and swollen wrist make me settle for squeezing my index finger, over and over again.
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