Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  Parting my folds, he slid one inside. “You’re drenched for me, mi amor.”

  I moaned a response, the sound filling the silent car.

  “Sí, tell me how much you want me.” He pumped his finger, and I grabbed the headrest, arching my back with a shudder. I was close—one push and I’d tumble over the cliff.

  “I want you,” I begged. “Please, Matty...” As his name crossed my lips, I came so hard I thought I stopped breathing for a minute. Once I found my voice, I cursed, shaking and dazed with desire.

  “Look at me,” he ordered. Opening my eyes, I found him poised above me licking his fingers with a lethal glint in his eyes. “You taste as sweet as I remember. I wonder if you feel just as sweet too.”

  “Oh, God...”

  “Do you remember our first time, Star?” he asked, wedging himself between my thighs. “You were a virgin and so tight you made me come harder than I’ve ever come in my life. I wonder if you can do it again?”

  His wicked words made me delirious. “For God’s sake, will you just fuck me?”

  A violent look passed over his face. Hooking a leg around each arm, he forced my vulnerability while looming over me like a phoenix rising from the ashes of our combined destruction. “Do you know what else I remember about that night?”

  Unable to speak, I shook my head.

  “I remember how loud you screamed.” His nostrils flared, and he slammed into me with one deep thrust until I did just what he wanted.

  I screamed.

  His possession was rough, and my cries pierced the night as he pulled out and drove right back in. Fuck, I’d forgotten how huge he was.

  “That’s it,” he growled, his hips driving into me with a chaotic pace. “That’s the scream I remember. Give me everything that’s mine.”

  I couldn’t have stopped the wave from crashing down on me even if I’d tried. I was too far gone, and he was buried too deep, his thrusts too punishing. I was paying for a sin he thought I committed, but by the time I trembled through another orgasm, I didn’t give a damn.

  “Fuck!” Mateo ground his pelvis against mine as his cock jerked inside me.

  At first, neither of us moved; we were too preoccupied with trying to catch our breath. Finally, I released my death grip on the back of the seat, and Mateo released his on the back of my legs.

  Tell me you love me.

  We were still joined when he froze. “Shit, Leighton, are you on birth control?”

  “No.”

  Tell me you love me.

  “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, pulling out and tucking himself back into his pants. Kneeling on the end of the seat, he palmed his forehead. “I never...I mean, I always use a condom. You don’t have to worry...Christ, I’m such a fucking idiot. Are we in the danger zone?”

  I scrunched my eyebrows together. “The danger zone?”

  “Your cycle,” he said, retrieving my shorts and panties from the floorboard and handing them to me. “Is there a threat?”

  “Oh, no.” My entire body stiffened. “There’s no threat.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I sighed. “There’s no threat because I can’t get pregnant.” I didn’t want to have this conversation sitting half-naked in a parking lot, but I could see he wasn’t going to let it go. Gritting my teeth, I choked out the truth. “I had some complications a few years ago and lost my ovaries. It’s fine.”

  He tossed his head back, blowing all the air out of his lungs in relief. “Oh, thank God. We dodged a bullet then.”

  A familiar ache pierced my chest, but I hid it behind a familiar fake smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we sure did.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leighton

  Oh, my head.

  Bright sunlight poured through the broken blinds when I opened my eyes the next morning. Rolling over, I blinked it away and stretched while running a hand through my matted hair. I was never much of a drinker, and now I remembered why.

  “Fuck me,” I groaned.

  A blast of air hit my bare legs as someone jerked the blankets down, and a rough hand slid down my naked ass from behind. “Well, I assumed you got enough after the first four times, but if you’re offering, I’m sure as hell not turning it down.” Mateo sank his teeth into my shoulder and dipped his fingers in between my legs.

  My back arched, pushing against his hand for more. I hated my body for responding so eagerly to his touch, but in one night, I’d become hopelessly addicted, consumed with wanting him. Craving what little he gave me and figuring out how to bargain for more.

  Not that he’d left me unsatisfied last night. Quite the opposite, actually.

  After what happened in the parking lot, I should’ve made him take me to Brody’s apartment. Instead, I said nothing when he drove right past the exit. I knew where we were headed, and I didn’t care. As much as I wanted to tell myself I wouldn’t allow anything like that to happen again, it was pointless. Heat already pooled low in my stomach at the thought of being with him again. I could spout all the sanctimonious bullshit I wanted. It wouldn’t change the fact I had no restraint when it came to him.

  So even after all my pep talks and empty promises to myself, we barely made it through the door before Mateo had me bent over the couch, fucking me like a savage from behind. Eventually, we made it to the bedroom, where he took me two more times. Once on the dresser and then again breaking the blinds when he shoved my back against the window.

  He always was a bit of an exhibitionist.

  “I think we should slow down,” I choked out, trying to regain some sanity.

  “I told you last night to be sure because once I touched you, I wouldn’t stop.” Adding a second finger, he slowly pumped them, drawing a tortured groan from my throat. “You should know I don’t make idle threats, Leighton.”

  And the way he commanded my body proved it.

  He also told me last night we’d dodged a bullet. The words still stung, but I shut my mind off, pushing any feeling but the one between my legs out of my head. It was fine. I’d let down my defenses last night and said things I shouldn’t have as well. I could do this. For the time I had left in Houston, I could have meaningless sex with a man who knew my body better than anyone. I could accept it for the insignificant act it was.

  Which would’ve been fine. If it were insignificant.

  Mateo’s full lips curved into an immoral smile against my shoulder. “Roll over.”

  “No,” I said, fisting the sheets to keep myself from giving in and sliding underneath him. “Just like this.” Realizing how cold I sounded, I let go of the sheet with one arm and draped it behind me, running my fingers through his tousled hair. “Please.”

  Hooking his arm around my top leg, he hitched it up and positioned himself at my entrance. “‘Please.’ Yeah, I could get used to that. Say it again.”

  “Please.” The word came out sounding more like a prayer than a request. Maybe it was. A prayer for strength. For vindication.

  He tightened his hold, his hips shifting. “Déjame entrar, Leighton.”

  He didn’t have to tell me to let him in. I already had. That was the problem.

  My emotions went into overdrive, causing my heart to pound and my ears to ring.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. Hold on a minute.”

  I was confused and more than heated when Mateo’s warmth left me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him roll over and grab his ringing cell phone from his nightstand.

  Okay, so the ringing wasn’t in my ears.

  “This better be fucking important,” he growled. I pulled the sheet over me as I watched the lover in him disappear and the cartel underboss take over. “You did? Only one? What’s his name? Look, I can’t talk right now. No, don’t fucking text it to me. Are you stupid? Hold on, I’ll write it down.” Looking over his shoulder, Mateo made the signal for a pen.

  I glanced around and having no idea where anything was in this place, I swiped my shorts off the floor and handed him the tiny red lipstick
I kept in the pocket.

  He raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he quickly cleared his throat, taking it from my hands and grabbing a discarded fast food napkin from the floor. “Okay, go ahead.”

  I stared as he listened intently to whoever was on the other line. After scribbling a series of letters and numbers, Mateo hung up without saying goodbye, Ruby Red #3 bleeding into the stark white napkin.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  He tossed his phone and the napkin onto the bed and rolled his neck. “I’m going to have to take a raincheck on round five.”

  “Yeah, sure. I understand.” I lowered my lashes and curled into myself, wishing I could disappear.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “That,” he said, pointing to the white knuckled grip I had on the sheet. “Don’t shut down on me just because I have to do my job.”

  “Your job?” I snorted. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

  “I’m going to chalk your tone up to the stress you’ve been under and let it go.” Mateo reached for my neck and pulled me against him, kissing me long and hard. By the time he pulled away, I was ready to beg him to stay. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I shouldn’t be long.” Giving me one last kiss, he slid off the bed and walked naked toward the bathroom, his hard cock bobbing under its own weight.

  I sat there long after I heard the water turn on. I should’ve probably used the opportunity to get dressed in privacy, but it required too much effort, and I preferred to pull the covers over my head and hide from my own foolish hope.

  I didn’t know why I thought we’d spend the day together. I wasn’t on the schedule at Caliente until three o’clock, and it wasn’t like he had regular office hours. We also weren’t a couple. Just because he gave me his body, it didn’t mean he owed me anything else.

  Less than twenty minutes later, after quickly dressing and mumbling another hollow apology, Mateo left. Dragging myself out of bed, I threw on the uniform I loathed and stopped suddenly, listening to a sound I hadn’t heard since driving to Luis’s.

  Silence.

  I was alone.

  Alone in the place Mateo was staying in. With all of his things.

  Alex’s warning from yesterday wailed in my head like a siren.

  “Next time, I want something on Cortes.”

  If I didn’t give it to him, he’d go to drastic measures to get it. My reasoning was skewed, but I rationalized if I controlled the information, I controlled the damage. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself I wasn’t betraying the man I was sleeping with. I was helping him.

  I went for the obvious culprit first—his duffel bag. Mateo was a light packer, which made sense. When all you wore was a stalker’s uniform, there was no need for heavy packing. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I unzipped it, tearing through it with renewed vigor. Of course, I found nothing. I honestly had no idea what I thought would be in there. A smoking gun? A shipment of drugs?

  This was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.

  Annoyed, I pushed my heel out and kicked the bag across the room. That was when I saw it. The bag had been sitting on top of a crumpled pair of jeans. I recognized them as the black pair he’d worn the night he brought me here, but that wasn’t what caught my eye. It was the picture sticking out of the back pocket. Leaning forward, I pulled it out and held it close.

  I knew it in an instant. The white dress. The building in the background.

  The image before me blurred as tears and memories drowned me, dragging me back in time. The smiling face staring back at me looked familiar yet so foreign. Maybe because she was a version of me that no longer existed.

  Crushing the picture against my chest, I openly wept for the innocent girl in the picture. I wept for the plans she made that would never happen. But mostly, I wept for the memory I thought I was the only one who remembered.

  * * *

  April – Four Years Ago

  The first thing I noticed as I stumbled up the hill was the slow, steady beat of music. I froze, and Matty’s fingers fumbled with the blindfold. Once it dropped, I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  His soft chuckle fluttered against my ear. “It’s your senior prom, Star. You shouldn’t miss it.”

  My heart pounded. No one could see me here with him. It was too risky.

  “I told you, I don’t care. I hate this place and the people in it.”

  “That may be true, but you don’t have to go inside to attend it. Besides, do you think I’d let you go with anyone else? When I said you were mine, I meant it.”

  “What are you talking—” I spun around to face him, squinting as a bright flash blinded me. “Did you just take my picture?”

  “I’m preserving the moment.”

  I prepared to launch into a lengthy protest, but my words lodged in my throat at the sight of him. Gone was his usual T-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket, and in place stood a man I didn’t recognize. Tailored black pants covered his long, muscular legs and met a somewhat wrinkled white button up shirt in the middle. A loose-fitting jacket covered it all, cinched with a black and gray striped tie.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He didn’t answer me, stepping forward with a secret smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Dance with me,” he said, offering his hand.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I like this song, and we may never get to dance like this again.”

  “Matty, what are you talking about? I’m only eighteen. Are you saying that—”

  He rolled his eyes and grabbed my waist, pulling me into him. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much? I said I like this song. Don’t ruin it for me.”

  So we danced outside of my high school—him in a second-hand suit, and me in a simple white sundress. We danced with his hands holding me tightly, and my head nestled in the crook of his neck.

  The night was perfect. He was perfect.

  He’d done all the right things and said all the right words. Even though some of them would prove to be truer than he realized.

  We never did dance like that again.

  * * *

  Present Day

  I glanced down at the tear-stained photo crumpled in my hand. If I closed my eyes and listened, I could still hear the song in my head—the melody like a knife slowly cutting my heart out piece by piece. Back then, we were just a couple of reckless kids who thought love was enough.

  Love was never enough. Not in my world and definitely not in his.

  I have to get out of here.

  Tucking the picture back into his pants pocket, I stood up and scanned the room for my car keys. However, I could look all I wanted, and it wouldn’t make a difference. I’d never find them.

  Because my keys were at Caliente. Along with my car.

  “Shit!” Falling backward onto the bed, I let out a groan. Mateo drove me home last night, and now I was trapped in this cartel owned whorehouse like a kept woman—just waiting for him to come back and offer me a rescheduled fuck.

  As much as I didn’t want to, I was going to have to call for reinforcements. Rolling over, I pushed onto my elbows and reached toward the nightstand for my...

  “Fuck!”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Muffling my screams against the comforter, I pounded my fists against the mattress until I eventually collapsed.

  This was why alcohol was bad for you. Nine shots of vodka and a snap decision may have very well tipped the first domino in my destruction.

  My phone wasn’t here because it was in the pocket of Swenson’s trench coat, which currently lay crumpled in the floorboard of Mateo’s Tahoe.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mateo

  Fucking red lipstick.

  Committing the address my informant had g
iven to me to memory, I balled up the napkin and flung it across the Tahoe. All I needed was a pen and she gave me lipstick. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate on torturing information out of some asshole when all I could think about was her perfect red lips wrapped around my dick?

  The image conjured a thought that had consumed me for over twelve hours now. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I replayed the overwhelming memory of feeling her again in that parking lot. She’d screamed, and the minute her muscles clenched around my throbbing cock, I knew she was still mine. Luis may have tainted her, but he hadn’t changed her. They didn’t have what we had. If they had, it wouldn’t have felt like coming home.

  Grabbing my phone from the passenger’s seat, I cursed and dialed. Thinking of Leighton had already put me on edge, so I was amped up to an eleven by the time he answered.

  “You on your way?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Someone’s grumpy today.”

  “Fuck you.” Making the left onto Turner Street, a row of two-story plain brick buildings sat in front of me. Hector Diaz’s neighborhood reminded me of the shithole Luis lived in back in San Marcos.

  Fuck, how bad did these idiotas suck at selling?

  My informant found out the identity of one of the numbers on Luis’s phone. Hector Diaz. I made some calls and discovered Diaz was a low-level Carrera seller, trying to work his way up the ranks. Since he’d been with us for six years and he was still working the streets, the chances of that happening were about the same as Luis rising from the dead.

  “Well, enjoy your time with Diaz,” he huffed. “I’m still working on the other number. Either it’s not one of ours or no one’s talking.”