El Diablo (The Devil): The Good Ol' Boys Spin Off

by M. Robinson

  Were they talking about me? Maybe all of this was getting to him too?

  I made my way toward the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror for a few minutes, trying to control the overpowering emotions reeling in my core. I took a deep breath, making my way back outside, looking for Martinez. I hadn’t seen him for a while. Come to think about it, I hadn’t seen Austin or Dylan either.

  “I just don’t think I can do it,” I heard Martinez say down the hallway out of nowhere.

  My feet moved of their own accord, standing outside the adjacent door.

  “It’s your only choice,” Dylan remarked.

  “It is what it is, Martinez,” Austin asserted. “She will—”

  The front door slammed open.

  “Where is she? Mia, where the fuck are you?! I know you’re here!” a man with a deep southern accent barged in the house, hollering.

  I ran past the office door where Martinez and the boys were discussing something that didn’t sound right, toward the commotion in the living room. A broad, muscular, tall man covered in tattoos, wearing a leather vest, was striding toward Mia. It all happened so quickly. No one had time to intervene. My eyes couldn’t move fast enough as the man barreled through the guests, trying to get right up into Mia’s face. Her dark brown eyes were wide and anxious.

  “Creed!” Mia screeched, trying to back away.

  The man didn’t falter, grabbing her arm, holding her in place. We all stood there in shock, watching in horror as the scene played out. Creed got right up in Mia’s face, hovering above her with a menacing glare. She cowered back.

  “I found this in the trash,” he gritted through a clenched jaw and threw something at her.

  My mouth dropped open. It was a pregnancy test.

  “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?! You wanted this!” he roared, pulling her closer to him by her arm.

  “I… no… I didn’t! I swear!” Mia stuttered, fervently shaking her head.

  I gasped.

  “Look me in the goddamn eyes and tell me you didn’t plan this.”

  “No! Of cour—”

  Lucas, her dad, was over to them in three strides, hearing the commotion from outside. Austin, Dylan, Jacob, and Martinez not far behind him. My heart pounded in my chest, I swear I stopped breathing.

  Lucas got right up in between them without giving it a second thought. “Back the fuck up if you know what’s good for you. And get the fuck out of this house,” Lucas snarled, eyeing him up and down with a threatening regard.

  Creed scoffed, matching his stare. “Fuck you! Now you want to be all protective? You’re too late. Your fifteen-year-old daughter went and got herself knocked up. Congratu-fucking-lations, Grandpa.” He pushed him. Lucas barely wavered, ready to strike back.

  “Creed! Enough!” All eyes flew to Martinez who was casually walking over to them. Creed’s eyes narrowed in recognition, jerking back stunned he was there.

  They knew each other?

  “This isn’t the time or the place. There are women and children present.”

  Creed scowled. “Since when the fuck do you care about any of that?”

  “Since this is my niece’s home. And her kids are my blood. Me and your club have never had any problems, if you want to keep it this way, I suggest you take your ass outside and walk away.”

  Creed took a look around, finally realizing Martinez was right. Seemingly pissed that his temper outweighed anything else. Creed stepped back, looking over at Mia again.

  “This ain’t over.” He nodded at her.

  He turned and walked out the door. The roar of a motorcycle rumbled around the living room moments later.

  “Mia,” her mom Alex coaxed, standing in front of her. Oh my God! Is it true? You’re pregnant?” Mia stood there frozen in place. “I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend? And now this? What were you thinking? You got yourself wrapped with an MC? How old is that guy? He has to be in his late twenties. Alex’s eyes filled with tears as she brought her shaking hand up to her mouth. Lucas stood there with rage in his eyes, hands in fists at his side. His friends ready to hold him back.

  Mia’s glossy eyes wandered around the room, mortified, overwhelmed not knowing what to say. “It’s not his. It’s his younger brother’s. I’m so sorry, Mama,” she whispered, running out the backdoor.

  I stood there speechless, my heart breaking for all of them. Knowing this wasn’t the end of their problems.

  It was only the beginning.

  There was a shift in our relationship after the christening, and not in a good way. In the last three months, Martinez started working more and more, coming home less. Sometimes he’d stay gone for days at a time, not telling me where he was going, or when he’d be back. Leaving me alone in the penthouse, worried if he was dead or alive. He’d always check in with me, but it still wasn’t the same. The loving man I’d spent the last three years with slowly faded away. Leaving behind the man I ran away from all those years ago. He didn’t touch me as often, barely touching me at all. I missed the way his hands felt all over my body. The way only he could ever make me feel.

  I missed him.

  Most of all I missed his arms around me when I slept. He never held me anymore, saying he was too busy and needed to work. We didn’t laugh together. I couldn’t remember the last time he smiled. His eyes were once again cold, dark, and soulless. The exact same haunting glare he wore in my nightmares. I didn’t know what was happening, every day it was something different. I couldn’t keep up with the rollercoaster of emotions anymore. It was as if he was trying to push me away again, deliberately shutting me out of his life. I thought all of that was behind us, not having the strength to relive it again.

  Was it too much introducing me to his family?

  Did it become too real for him?

  Was he having second thoughts now? About me? About us?

  As the days went on, more insecurities came forward, making themselves known. Creeping out at all hours of the day and night. Not allowing me to rest for one goddamn second. Dancing didn’t even calm me the way it used to, no longer my escape. I didn’t even recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror anymore. I was losing myself to self-doubt and uncertainties.

  Did he not love me anymore? Was there someone else?

  Question after question sent me on a downward spiral. I refused to believe any of it was true, trying to ease my overly active mind the only way I could. Making up reasons and excuses for his distant behavior, sometimes it worked, but most of the time it didn’t.

  I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling his presence, his scent all around me. I slid my hand along the sheet, searching for him. Assuming he was lying next to me. His side of the bed was cold, like it had been for months. Rolling over I opened my eyes, coming face to face with him, sitting in the armchair in our room. A bottle of whiskey in his hand.

  I sat up, taking the silk sheet with me. Covering my bare breasts. “Hey, what are doing over there?” I asked, I hadn’t seen him in two days.

  “Watching over you,” he simply stated in a cold and detached tone. Not looking me in the eyes.

  I lovingly smiled, trying to break through his icy demeanor. “Alejandro, come to bed,” I coaxed, patting the spot next to me.

  “No.” He took a swig of the bottle. I couldn’t help but notice it was already half empty.

  I frowned. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

  “I should have never gone back for you. You were happy. I was in the past, forgotten. I should have stayed away.”

  “What?” His statement slapping me in the face. “I wasn’t happy. I’ve never been happy without you. Look at me, why are you saying that?”

  “You were safe.”

  “I’m—”

  “From me,” he added.

  I stepped off the bed. “Alej—”

  “Don’t.”

  Stopping me dead in my tracks, I shuddered. “I love you,” I stated, needing him to hear it. “My life bel
ongs to you.”

  “Did it belong to me when you were spreading your legs for Will? It didn’t belong to me when you were fucking him. Getting down on your knees like a fucking whore. Did you ever think about me when he was devouring your pussy? Wishing a real man was giving you what you craved?”

  I gasped, jerking back.

  “Sometimes the truth hurts, baby,” he snidely remarked, taking another swig from the bottle.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Not yet. But getting there.” Two more swigs. “What’s wrong, cariño? I’m here, aren’t I? Don’t you want me to touch you? Kiss you? Fuck you like my little whore? That's all you wanted since you met me, I wasn't fucking stupid. You were desperate to feel loved, because Mommy wasn't there. So, here I am... What can my cock make you forget tonight?”

  Tears began to stream down my face, hurt by his verbal abuse.

  “Aww, here comes the water works. Did I hurt your feelings, baby?” he mocked.

  “Why are you being so cruel? What the hell is going on?”

  “I was never your savior, little girl. I’m your fucking demise. Have been since day one.”

  “You’re trying to push me away again! I’m not going to let you! This is bullshit! Enough! Just tell me what the fuck is going on! I can help—”

  He furiously stood, knocking the chair over. Chucking the bottle of whiskey across the room. “When are you going to fucking realize I’m not good for you!?” he screamed.

  I jolted out of my skin when it shattered against the wall. “Leave! Now! Go drown your fucking demons in another bottle! I’m not scared of you, Martinez!” I shouted right back.

  He was over to me in two strides, backing me onto the bed. His face inches away from mine, his body looming over me. The smell of whiskey and cigars assaulted my senses.

  “I would shut you the fuck up. But my goddamn zipper’s stuck.”

  “You fucking bastard!” I went to push him away, but he grabbed both my wrists. Pinning them above my head.

  “Is this what you want?" he viciously chuckled, breathing against my lips. “I bet if I touched your pussy right now, you’d be fucking wet. For me. That’s what’s fucked up about us, Lexi. I’ve made you crave every side of me. You love the heartless El Diablo as much as you love your precious Alejandro,” he crudely ridiculed, roughly letting me go. Freeing me in more ways than one.

  He backed away, taking one last look at me laying there. And left.

  I tossed and turned all night, restless and dazed. The hurricane of emotions lingered in the room, in the air, in my fucking soul.

  Long after he left, his words still pounded in my head, over and over again. Not letting up until sleep finally took over. When I woke up the next morning the shattered bottle had been cleaned up as if it never existed. Another figment of my imagination, an illusion I knew I didn’t create. My tear-soaked pillow was my evidence. I got up, going about my normal routine. Eating breakfast by myself, like I had the last few months. Anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop, knowing last night was just the start of whatever he was planning.

  But why?

  It didn’t matter how many times I racked my brain for answers. Nothing made sense. Nothing was right. For the next few days I went on with my life in a blur, just going through the motions. The hours and days blended together. Still no word from him. No apology, no remorse.

  Nothing but silence.

  I went to bed alone again, contemplating sleeping in my old room so I wouldn’t have to smell him. Feel him all around me. But I didn’t, knowing it was no use. The man was already engrained in my heart. His scent helped me sleep in his absence. I dreamt of the way his strong arms felt around me. Engulfing me in nothing but his warm body, the weight of him on top of me. The reassuring words he always spoke in my ear.

  “Cariño,” I heard him whisper. I swear it felt so real, so true, so consuming, like he was right there with me. I didn’t want to wake up. I felt his lips on my neck, softly kissing, making his way up to my mouth. “Mi amor, lo siento, perdóname por todo. Eres mi vida. Siempre recuerdalo. No importa lo qué pase. Eres mía, cariño,” he rasped against my ear in Spanish.

  When did I learn Spanish?

  “Wake up, Lexi. Open those beautiful eyes for me.”

  I stirred, fluttering my eyes open. Blinking away the sleepy haze, trying to focus. My eyes adjusting to the light cascading off the moon from the sliding glass doors.

  “Alejandro?” I sleepily asked.

  “You’re so beautiful. Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?” He gazed down at me with a look I couldn’t quite read.

  “I was just dreaming about you.”

  “That wasn’t a dream. I’m here. I’ve been here.”

  His eyes held so much emotion. His sincere expression was almost hard to follow. I had always been so in tune with what his eyes shared with me, and at that moment, all I could see was pain. My heart ached seeing him broken. I missed his smile, his laugh, his love. It was as if he was torn with what he was feeling, his mind wreaking havoc in a way I’d never seen before. I could physically feel his pained glare on my face as he was laying on top of me. Feeling it so much more than I could have ever imagined. Almost like I could touch it.

  “Cariño, stop thinking. Just feel me.” He placed my hand over his heart. “Be here with me, just me and you,” he whispered, sensing my apprehension.

  He watched as I started tracing the outline of his heart that was beating a mile a minute, just for me. Caressing the side of my cheeks with the back of his fingers as we stared into each other’s souls, seeing our truth, our love. He softly pecked my lips, kissing me for the first time in what seemed like forever. Teasing me with the tip of his tongue, outlining my mouth. My tongue sought out his, and our kiss quickly turned passionate, moving on its own accord, taking what the other needed. There was something agonizing about the way we devoured each other’s mouths.

  It was urgent.

  Demanding.

  Burning with fire.

  We couldn’t get enough of one another, wanting more. Wanting everything. Trying to become one person, kissing as if our lives depended on it. His fingers glided down to my breasts, caressing them lightly, grazing around my nipples, cupping and kneading them in the palm his hand.

  “Alejandro,” I moaned, in a voice I didn’t recognize.

  Our bodies moved like they were made for each other. He tenderly kissed all over my face, along my jawline, my forehead, and on the tip of my nose. Placing his cock at my entrance, staring me in the eyes, waiting for me to tell him it was all right.

  They did.

  He rested his elbows on the sides of my face with my whole body lying beneath him. Slowly easing inside of me, grabbing me by the chin to once again claim my mouth. It started off slow, but his movements became urgent and more demanding. My eyes widened in pleasure, my back arching off the bed, letting him lap at my neck and breasts, nipping, sucking, licking. Leaving tiny marks in his wake. I didn’t want to move, I wanted to enjoy the sensation of his cock inside me.

  “You feel me inside you?” he groaned, reading my mind. Making his way back up to my mouth.

  “Yes…” I breathed out.

  My arms reached around, pressing him tight against my body, wanting to feel his entire weight on top of me. His warmth consumed me as he took his time hitting all the right spots. His back muscles flexed with every thrust. Every push and pull. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  I needed him.

  I wanted him.

  I loved him.

  He leaned his forehead on mine, looking deep into my core. Our mouths were parted, still touching, both of us panting profusely, trying to feel each and every sensation of our skin on skin contact. His one hand snaked around to cup my ass, guiding my hips, angling them, making me take every last inch of his cock. He thrust in and out of me, going slow, cherishing me, making me feel safe, secured, and loved. Everything I ever wanted from him, he was willingly giving to me.
<
br />   He wasn't fucking me.

  He was making love to me. Taking his time to feel every last inch of me. Memorizing my body. My need. My love. His heady movements were almost as pained as the glare in his eyes. I wanted to fight him off. I wanted to yell at him and tell him to stop. I wanted anything but this.

  I couldn't.

  All I felt was his heart over mine. His kisses deep within the depths of my soul, his strong hands and muscular body consuming me in ways I've never experienced before. I never thought possible. His once cold and icy demeanor were replaced with nothing but heat. It radiated off of him, absorbing into my skin. I felt him everywhere and all at once. For the first time...

  He was mine.

  I felt it in every last breath from his lips, every last beat of his heart, every single fiber of his being. The good and bad. Heaven and Hell. Every part of him. I took what I could get. Every last ounce of him. Even though I knew in my heart.

  He was only saying goodbye.

  My body betrayed my emotions. I started to come apart, clawing, gripping, moaning, panting, “Please, please, please,” begging for I don’t know what. Climaxing all around his cock.

  Lifting my leg, he put all his weight on his right knee, using the other for more momentum to thrust in and out of me. Faster, harder, deeper. I didn’t want him to stop, terrified of what would happen when he did. There would be a price to pay, knowing my pleasure would only lead to his pain in the end. He was right about one thing. He wasn’t my savior. Tonight would lead to the demise of my heart when this was over, when he was done showing me his love. His torment. His demons.

  “Lexi,” he growled from within his chest, releasing his come deep inside of me. Shaking, kissing me passionately. Until I felt him become hard again, making love to me all night long.