“You can use my being your sub to do that? Yes, of course you can.” She shook her head. “I even had that thought myself.” Then something new occurred to her. “Word would get back to Torres that you’ve ‘tamed’ me, wouldn’t it?”
Ramón’s smile was so soft she nearly missed it. “I think in the end I will be the one who’s tamed, pequeña. But essentially, yes. We’ll only go to the Lyon’s Den. In a few days, when you’re ready. When we’re ready. It might mean we’d have to scene, there, in public. I know you know what that means.”
“Yes. Daisy has been very informative.” Marcia reached her hand out, and Ramón took it. She held his left hand in her right and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. Then she reached her left hand up and nearly sighed when Clint took it. “I’m not going to go off half-cocked. I just needed to do something. I needed to feel I was standing up for myself because I never have. You say you’re going to limit my participation in your investigation to only Christopher’s club? That suits me just fine. I don’t need to see that bastard face to face. I just need to know that I’ve stopped letting things go, that I stopped reacting and finally took a stand, for me.”
“No one will doubt that. Perhaps, in the end, when we have him in a cage, I can arrange for you to face him, if you need to then.”
“We’ll see. I hope I can become strong enough to be that woman—to look him in the eye and tell him to go fuck himself. Getting to that point would be a victory, wouldn’t it?”
“It would.” Clint squeezed her hand. “Darlin’, you have no idea just how strong you already are. It’ll be our duty, and our pleasure, to show you.”
She inhaled a shaky breath and then let it go. “Thank you. Both of you. For…accepting me as I am.”
“You’re welcome. Now it’s time you were in bed.”
“I don’t want to sleep alone.” Never a woman to claim what she wanted, she kind of surprised herself with that bold declaration.
“We weren’t going to let you.” Ramón brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he got to his feet and reached down. She’d always considered herself a substantial woman, but he lifted her so easily!
“There’s a king-sized bed in my room. Clint tells me the beds in the homes in Lusty are much larger than that, even. But this one will do us for the time being. You’ll sleep between us, whenever possible, from now on.”
Marcia held on as Ramón carried her to bed. And while it had never been anything she’d ever even fantasized about, becoming the filling in a man sandwich sounded wonderful right then.
Especially when the men involved were her two, brand-new very sexy and very alpha Doms.
Chapter 6
Marcia awoke toasty warm, cocooned, and rested. She almost couldn’t believe how soundly she’d slept. No dark images had intruded on her sleep. No dreams had chased her into the cold wakefulness of the pre-dawn hours. A soft breeze caressed her breasts, and she smiled.
More breath-warmed air stroked her nipples into hardened points. She opened her eyes to encounter two sleep-ruffled, macho-looking men directing their breath over her bared breasts.
“Good morning, pequeña. How do you feel?” Ramón reached up and gently stroked her cheek.
“I feel good. That was the best sleep ever.”
“That’s good to hear. Your breasts appear to be very sensitive, darlin’.” Clint leaned over her, drew closer, and blew another stream of air over her left breast. Ramón gave the same attention to her right breast.
No doubt about it. A shiver worked its way through her, and her nipples tightened even more in response to the almost ethereal caresses.
“I never knew they were. Perhaps they just like attention from the two of you.” Marcia felt positively lighthearted. Perhaps it was the sleep, but more likely the unburdening of her soul the night before was the root of this feeling. She’d let these two men see what she’d shown no one else, and they still accepted her. They still wanted her.
Marcia was beginning to believe in miracles.
“Do you like having your nipples sucked?” Clint’s question added to the light shiver of arousal coating her flesh.
“I don’t know.” Honesty was easier to achieve this morning. Perhaps she’d had her allotment of embarrassment for the time being.
“Then let’s find out.” He spoke those words so that the moist heat of them bathed her nipple. Then he used his tongue to circle the tiny tip before he drew it into his mouth.
Oh, the heat, the wet, the thrill! As he suckled strongly, Marcia gasped, surprised by the quiver in her clit, by the way her pussy grew damp and her hips rolled. Every inch of her body vibrated with want. She felt the excitement racing through every vein, tingling every nerve ending. Without thinking, she flexed her pelvic floor muscles and felt the contraction deep inside, a contraction that just made her hotter and hornier.
Clint lifted his mouth from her left breast, and then Ramón sucked her right nipple hard and deep.
Clint’s hand traveled down her body. Then his fingers traced a light pattern over her slit and delved between her labia. “You’re so wet, darlin’.”
Marcia whimpered because his fingers, right there, were exciting her beyond anything she’d ever believed existed.
Ramón lifted his mouth from her breast and then leaned forward. His lips were just a breath away from hers, and Marcia’s heart began to pound. He combed his fingers through her hair, anchored her head, and covered her mouth with his own. This kiss was everything she’d once dreamt a kiss could be. Hot, wet, searing, the kiss made her feel as if Ramón was drinking her down, and she was returning the favor.
His tongue danced and dipped against hers, engaging hers in a rhythm both sultry and sleek. His flavor fed her, excited her, and lifted her to new heights of pleasure. She whimpered when he gently weaned his lips from hers. His gaze, passion-hot, branded her soul.
She’d been fucked but knew nothing of passion or intimacy. Until now.
“We’re going to make you fly, pequeña.” He used one finger to stroke her bottom lip. “Will you fly for us?”
There it was, the question she’d needed, and the one she dreaded. Could she fly? “I don’t know how. I don’t know if I can.”
“All you have to do, darlin’, is feel.”
Clint’s words drew her attention. He used a finger on her chin to turn her head more completely toward him. Ramón latched onto her right nipple again, and then Clint lowered his head and kissed her.
His mouth suckled hers as surely as Ramón’s suckled her breast. Clint’s taste filled her, and the heat of his kiss, along with the heat of his body, became her heat.
Their tongues dueled, a sweet thrust and parry that enthralled her, quenching and thirsting at the same time, making her need more, and still more.
Ramón kissed a trail down her body, his hands stroking and caressing, his fingers pinching and searching and then delving.
Clint drank her moan of pleasure. He cupped her face with one hand, and Marcia felt captured. It was a thrilling new dimension to the kiss, and Marcia did something she didn’t know she could.
She willingly surrendered to these two men.
Ramón spread her legs and put his mouth on her pussy. Arousal became a hungry flame that consumed every part of her. With one lover’s mouth on hers, the other’s on her pussy, Marcia gave in to the excitement, the spiraling thrill of electric shocks that crackled and burned through her.
Ramón’s tongue delved inside her, over and over until she pressed her body against his face. Then his tongue swirled around her clit as his fingers plumbed her, working in and out, stroking the upper wall of her channel.
When he captured her clit and sucked, Marcia’s climax exploded. Wave after wave of the most stunning erotic pleasure washed over and through her, stealing her breath, numbing her reason. On and on it went as stars burst behind her closed eyelids. She didn’t know if she would be able to survive so much stimulation. If this was the end, she’d die sated
and complete.
Clint raised his mouth then placed a small kiss on her cheek. “Breathe, darlin’.” His grin was the sweetest thing, ever.
Ramón didn’t speak. He just placed a tender kiss on the inside of her thigh. She looked down her naked body and into his smiling eyes.
“Wow.” So that’s what all the excitement’s about. Myriad thoughts and emotions raced through her head, and so many images swamped her she couldn’t sort them all out. Neither of her lovers seemed overly concerned when, one by one, her tears fled her body, escaping their years-long imprisonment.
Ramón pushed himself up until he lay beside her once more. “Can you tell us?”
She didn’t think. The words just flooded out on her river of tears. “I thought I was broken inside.” That had been the underlying fear, the fear she’d been too afraid to acknowledge, even to herself. “When I never felt anything, I assumed it was because I couldn’t, that I wasn’t capable.”
She’d barely admitted that fear to herself. It was the relief that swamped her in the aftermath of her orgasm, which brought tears, tears that cleansed. These two men had already done something miraculous.
That horrible fear had been slain by her Doms.
“You were never broken, darlin’. Just a little roughed up by life.”
“Fortunately, mi ángel, we have the cure. You’re our submissive, now.”
“Which means helping you to heal is both our duty—and our privilege.”
Each man placed a sweet kiss on her lips then subtly cocooned her even more securely between them.
Yes, miracles really do exist. It was the happiest moment of Marcia’s life.
* * * *
Sore, shattered, and shamed, Consuela Lopez trembled with fear in the corner of the shabby, filthy room. Two mattresses, stained and bare of linens, took up space on the floor near the center. A table and a couple of chairs provided the only real furniture in the room. The place smelled like garbage—human garbage.
Hiding and shaking in the corner where she’d crawled from one of the mattresses, she now felt like garbage.
How could this have happened? How could everything have gone so wrong? Her brother Miguel had promised her that his friend, Luis Ortiz, was going to take her to America and she would have a job and a nice house to live in. If she worked hard and obeyed the rules, before long she would be living the American Dream. She could go to school and work and make a good life, a good future. She dreamt she’d be able to send for her younger brothers and sisters and make a home for them.
At nineteen, Consuela wasn’t afraid of hard work because she’d worked hard all her life. She’d agreed to go with Luis mostly because she knew that would help Miguel. She was the one closest to his age. She was old enough to work, and he still had their fifteen year-old sister, Verónica María, to help him with the little ones. He had done his best to look after the family after Mama had died. Now he would have one less mouth to feed. And she’d promised to send money back to him even though he hadn’t asked her to do so.
Luis had taken her to a village an hour away from her home outside of Morelos. There, she’d been loaded into the truck with so many others—mostly women. As the drive lengthened, and her thoughts settled, it occurred to her it was strange that her brother hadn’t demanded she send money back to him, to help with the family.
Now, many hours later, she thought she understood why. Wherever it was she would end up, whatever it was she would be doing, living the American Dream clearly wasn’t going to be an option for her. Miguel had lied to her. Luis had lied to her.
She’d been sold. She’d been sold into slavery.
The men who’d brought them to this house were all getting drunk, and she could only hope that they forgot she was there. They were partying, boasting about the money that would soon be theirs when they unloaded the latest cargo of whores.
That was all she was now—a whore.
Most of the other women in the truck had been her age. But there had also been younger girls, some little more than babies, as well. They’d stopped at a house in a town close to the border with America and been led inside, and then down, into a tunnel carved and scrabbled out of the dirt.
She’d crossed herself as she’d been pushed down and then made to walk, stooped over and forever, it seemed, in the dark. Then, they’d risen again, into another building, and finally outside once more. Several vehicles waited, and the large group she was in had been split up, the women and girls loaded like cattle into the vans lined up like taxis. Consuela had no idea where she was, where she was going, or where the others had been sent. She did know she was now in the United States.
Hours later, when they’d stopped in front of this small house, she’d heard the men say they were in Brandy, Texas. Some of the women and all the younger girls she’d been in the truck with were locked into one of the rooms down a short hall. Only she and three other women had been left unbound. It turned out not to be a blessing when she learned what she and the other three—all, she guessed, slightly older than her—were about to face.
She didn’t know who the other women were, but their reaction to the agenda differed from hers. She didn’t begrudge them their attitude. They were letting whoever wanted them to have them and were tossing back shots of alcohol in between the men they took into their bodies.
Consuela couldn’t do any of that. Until an hour before, she’d been a virgin. Now she was terrified and sore and wanted nothing more than to escape this living hell. She looked down at what had been her best dress—the light cotton with blue flowers she’d made in the spring. This dress always made her feel better when she wore it and was the prettiest thing she’d ever owned.
She’d donned the dress that morning, naively hoping to make the best first impression. Now, dirty and torn and blood-splattered, the dress was a statement to her stupidity, to her brother’s betrayal, and to her own shame.
During the drive, the men in charge had warned them about the American federales who roamed the streets with their guns and their vicious attack dogs. They must do as they were told, their guards ordered, to avoid being captured. Capture by the gringos would bring certain death.
They would not be safe, the men had warned, until the next day, when they were farther from the border and given over to their new masters.
Consuela didn’t believe any of it now because she knew the base of it—that she was going to find a happy life in the land of milk and honey—had been a lie. She had to escape. She would rather be dead than live a life of slavery.
One of the men got to his feet and spotted her. He grinned, and Consuela felt everything within her freeze. He took a step toward her, and she braced herself.
He was halted by one of the other women when she reached up and stroked the ridge in his pants.
“Is that for me, handsome?”
He looked down and smiled at the woman on her knees before him. “Sí. It is for your mouth, whore.”
The woman reached up and unfastened his pants. “You don’t want that other one. She is nearly unconscious. A woman who does not appreciate your magnificent cock is not one for you to bother with.” Then she looked over her shoulder and met Consuela’s gaze.
Consuela nodded. She didn’t know why the woman was helping her, but she took the cue and pretended to close her eyes, letting her head loll to the side.
She had never seen anything like what that woman did next to the man, but the sight nearly made her gag. She closed her eyes in earnest and waited, listening to the sounds of laughter and lust, of the increasingly slurred words of the men and the moans and groans from the other women—not all of them sounds of pleasure. She waited, and she prayed as she had never prayed before that she would be left alone.
Consuela must have drifted off because she jumped when someone shook her shoulder. It was the woman who’d helped her.
“They are all sleeping off their party. We must leave, now.”
Consuela blinked the sleep from her eyes. Sh
e ached everywhere but pushed the pain aside. “What is your name?”
“I’m Pilar.”
“Thank you, Pilar. I’m Consuela. You’ve saved me. What about the others?” The two other women who’d been forced to “party” were also unconscious. Consuela thought about that room down the hall that was locked that held the women and girls who had escaped being used.
“There is no time. Two of the guards just left to put gas in the van. The others are drunk. We go now, or we stay captive forever.”
Consuela rose on unsteady feet. She looked around and knew Pilar spoke the truth. She would escape, she would remember the house, and she would get help. They were close to a river. She could smell it when they pushed her inside this small building. There would be other clues, too. She would go up to those federales and she would surrender, and she would tell them about this house.
She would tell them about Miguel and Luis and the little ones who’d been taken.
Consuela moved carefully with Pilar toward the door, taking quiet footsteps, stepping over sleeping bodies. She prayed she woke no one. Pilar looked down at Consuela’s dress. She shook her head, and when Consuela looked down at herself, she understood.
The material barely covered her and presented a wordless testimony to her shame.
They paused at the door, and Pilar turned the lock. She turned the knob and began to pull. The old hinges screamed, and Consuela felt her heart drop. The sound of a male groan galvanized them both. Pilar swore and yanked the door open. They stepped out onto the small porch and were caught in the beam of returning headlights.
“We must split up. Run, and may God keep you!”
There was no time for good-bye. Terror exploded, and Consuela ran, down the steps, away from the house and away from the van, running as fast as she could, heading left, toward the river. The pain between her legs brought a wetness she knew was blood, but still, she ran. Shouts behind her just pushed her farther, faster, as sobs of terror and sobs of prayer tore from her soul.
Somehow, she knew she was nearly at the water because the air grew more pungent. She hit a field and ran faster as a shot exploded and then another. She felt a push as if something had slammed into her bringing a growing sting in her shoulder. She tripped from the force of the blow. Falling forward, she lost her footing and tumbled down a small hill.
Avenging Angel [Tales from the Lyon's Den 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 6