I agreed the Desalmados needed Sheriff Bernard in our corner. With the Soldados back on the rise, things were about to get heavy. We needed the police department to look the other way when it came to our business, but come down with both feet on anyone who sought to get in our way. We needed Luís Mendoza unable to breathe without the Sheriff’s department crawling all over him.
I didn’t want to use Mia but knew if it came down to it, El Tuerto wasn’t above ordering me to take advantage of our relationship to put the squeeze on her father. That would be the end of us, I knew it. That wasn’t acceptable to me, but I didn’t know how I’d find a way in with Bernard otherwise. I wasn’t the kind of guy Mia could bring home to mom and dad to gain their approval, and I would have a chance at persuading him reasonably. Sure, I dressed nicely, could clearly afford to take care of their daughter, but there was no mistaking who and what I was. Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t have a rap sheet. While I’d managed to skate under the radar for most of my adult life, my past wasn’t without a black spot or two. Mostly small-time burglaries and petty theft from when I was a halcon, but there were a few assault charges from my sicario days as well. I knew if I had a daughter and she brought home a man, I’d be up his ass with a microscope. I was sure with Mia’s father’s resources, he’d be no different.
“You’re a good subject,” she said out of nowhere, interrupting my thoughts. “You’ve hardly moved at all, though you could get rid of that scowl. What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing important, just some issues with the club. I’m sure my manager will sort things out.”
“Then stop worrying about it and think happy thoughts.”
As if it were that simple. Mia was so sweet, I doubt she worried about much in her life. Though I knew the men she’d been involved with had let her down, she was still with me, trying one more time. She was brave to risk her heart, especially with someone with such a questionable lifestyle. I didn’t have that kind of luxury. My world was too dangerous. I needed to keep my head, so I wasn’t distracted or slip up, but I needed to know more about her. I needed to know everything.
“Why did you choose to be an artist?” I asked, curious to see what she was doing.
“I don’t think anyone actually chooses to be an artist. The muse chooses them,” she replied, still working in broad strokes across the canvas with her charcoal. “I was blessed with certain talents and always loved to draw. My mother encouraged me to develop my skills, enrolling me in any art class she could find for my age group as I grew. It was only natural to move into paints when I got older, but I still draw for my own pleasure. I always have a sketchbook on hand.”
“I think it’s amazing what you can create with your hands. How do you decide what you want to paint?”
“Again, I don’t think it’s something I actually choose. If I see something or someone who inspires me, I have to follow through. It’s a compulsion, really,” she replied, peeking around the canvas at me. “The world is filled with so many fascinating things. It could be the simple colors in a clear summer sky or the dimples in the cheeks of a child. I’ve even seen a grasshopper that sparked my interest. There’s beauty in everything, Dantes. You just have to have your eyes open to see it.”
“Are you saying I don’t have an eye for beauty?” I asked playfully. “Because I see something impossibly beautiful right now.”
I rose from the futon and wandered over to her canvas. She scanned my naked body, interest sparkling in her eyes. Her natural innocence had aroused my hunger, and I couldn’t resist the urge to have her. It was heady to see the same carnal interest reflected on her face.
“Go sit back down,” she ordered before biting her lower lip. “I’m not done yet, and you can’t see until I am.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t peek,” I replied as I took the charcoal from her fingertips and set it down on the lip of the easel. My cock was quickly rising, insisting I claim her body again. “Come here.”
She took the hand I offered, letting me lead her down the stairs to her living room. I wasn’t about to take her on that stupid futon again. I’d noticed a rather comfortable looking chair in her living area that would work nicely.
I spun her around to face me and backed her up to the chair’s arm, taking her cheeks in both hands and kissing her deeply. I wanted her to have some idea of the depth of my passion for her, so I poured as much of it into the kiss as I could. I was trying so hard to hold back, but there was a driving need pushing me forward. If I didn’t get a grip, I’d get tangled in a bigger knot than I already was.
Shoving away all negative thoughts, I turned her back around.
“Bend over the arm of the chair, Mami,” I said, running my hand down her spine, gently pushing her forward. Sometime after she woke, she’d put that sexy silk nightie back on. I’d enjoyed watching her in it as she busied herself, making the coffee, but now, it was just in my way.
I took the hem in both hands and tore the material right up the back. She gasped as she heard the fabric rip, but I felt the tremor run through her body.
“Don’t worry, Preciosa. I’ll buy you a new one,” I said as I palmed her firm, round ass. “I’ll buy you twenty of them. Now hold on tight. I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’d swear I hate you.”
She shivered again, but being the good girl she was, she did what I told her. I slapped her ass hard twice, once on each fleshy cheek, admiring the way her pale skin instantly pinked. She hissed through her teeth, so I smoothed my hand over her ass, soothing the smarting skin. She moaned softly.
“You like that, baby? You like it when I spank you?”
“I-I… no one’s ever done that to me before.” The statement pleased me, my chest filling with pride. I’d give her as many firsts as I could. I spread her cheeks wide with my palms and stared down at the tight little rosebud between them. Fuck, even her asshole was beautiful. I ran a fingertip over it, watching it tighten in response.
“What about here?” I asked, tracing the rim. “Has anyone fucked this pretty little ass?”
“N-no,” she whispered hoarsely. “Are you going to?”
Fuck, there it was, that sweetness again. She hadn’t objected or shown any uncertainty. She left it all up to me, fully accepting I owned her body. I took my thumb and pressed it against her puckered hole, teasing her.
“No. It’s not my thing. I just wanted to know if it was untouched,” I replied, adding pressure, just to test her response. She responded with an uncomfortable squirm that made me chuckle.
I reached down to check her readiness, finding her drenched. So much so, there was a slick coating of juices spread across her thighs. It was my undoing. I grabbed ahold of her hips, hiking them up higher, and thrust my cock in deep without warning.
7
Mia
I screamed as soon as he pushed his thick, meaty shaft into me. I bucked involuntarily, my body’s reaction to the sudden invasion. I was rewarded with harsh pop on my ass.
“Don’t try to move away, Mia. Stay still and take your papi’s cock.”
I’d never had anyone refer to themselves as my daddy before—I thought I’d find it creepy if they did—but hearing it in Spanish made my pussy contract tightly around him. I thought his accent was sexy, but when he spoke in his own language, it drove me wild.
“Tell me more,” I panted as he sawed in and out of me.
“What? Tell you what, preciosa?”
“That. Talk to me in Spanish,” I said breathlessly.
“Ah, princessa. Me encanta como gimes cuando te lo meto.”
I shuddered hard. I had no idea what he said, but I couldn’t help the spasm that rippled through my pussy.
“Oh, you do like it, don’t you?” he whispered hoarsely, the surprise registering in his voice. “¿Quieres te de más duro, bebe? Do you want it harder?”
I moaned loudly. I found it really didn’t matter what he said. He could have been asking me to scrub the floor, and it would send me to the edge. He
picked up speed as he wound his fist in my hair, pulling until my back arched and my ass was lifted high, spanking me in earnest.
“Disfrutalo mami,” he purred. “Yo sé que te gusta que te lo hunda. I know you like it when I sink my dick in your tight little pussy.”
It obviously excited him as much as it did me. I felt him thicken inside me, swelling until his dick was like a steel rod, beating against my cervix. The bite of pain mixed with the pleasure of him filling me made my knees knock. I felt my body tense, a sure sign I was about to come, as soft whimpers fell from my lips.
“More, Papi, more,” I sighed softly. I didn’t know what I did, but Dantes roared and thrust in hard, his body rigid as he exploded inside me. He remained buried deep as I felt every forceful jerk of his cock while he came in long spurts. Dantes panted hard, moaning as his hips bucked with the force of his climax. Finally, I felt him relax, exhaling heavily as he laid his torso over my back.
“Fuck, Mia. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let go before getting you there, but you sent me straight to heaven, calling me Papi in that sweet little voice.”
I smiled to myself, feeling like I suddenly had all the power in the world. I now knew exactly how to make Dantes as weak as he made me.
We enjoyed the next several days, indulging in each other. Dantes had to leave every night to check in with his managers at The Pink Pistol, but he was never gone for more than a few hours. Things had been running smoothly, a fact that surprised him since working with a staff full of dancers usually had no shortage of drama. If there were any, Oscar had handled it.
I loved the closeness we were carefully cultivating, even if it was at a dizzying speed, but Christmas was quickly approaching, and I wanted to find just the right gift. To do that, I needed to get away from him for a while to do serious shopping. As lovely as it was, spending day after day naked and lost in each other, finding the “right” gift was crucial. I wanted to surprise him, but I wasn’t clever or cunning enough to figure out a way to convince him to let me leave his side without spilling the beans. I decided to just be straightforward one morning over coffee.
“Dantes,” I began as I poured a cup of the dark brown liquid into his cup. “I need to go out for a while today.”
“Nonsense,” he said, standing and coming behind me to wrap his arms around my middle and nip lightly at my earlobe. “What do you need? I can have anything you wish delivered at the drop of a hat.”
“I need to go shopping for Christmas,” I said, ducking my head and trying to wiggle out of his arms. His responding chuckle was deep and rich as his arms tightened around me, and he began to suck my neck.
“Just tell me what you want and who you want it delivered to, preciosa. I will make it happen,” he replied absently as he kissed his way down to my bare shoulder.
“You! You, Dantes. I need to buy your gifts. I can’t very well have you shopping for your own,” I exclaimed as he lifted me into his arms and kissed the tip of my nose.
“You’re the only gift I need,” he said as he carried me up the stairs to my loft, which was now even more cramped than it had been, to begin with. Our first day alone, Dantes wanted to take me back to his place, he hated my futon so much. I dug my heels in, determined to finish my painting of him. Not content to endure another second on the stiff mattress, he made a few calls and arranged to have a bed exactly like his delivered the same day. Whoever handled the transaction had been thoughtful enough to include thousand thread-count sheets. I probably couldn’t go wrong using the same person as a personal shopper if Dantes’ wouldn’t let me out of his sight, but I really hoped to convince him to let me go.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s important for me to get you something. Something that will remind you of me when we’re apart.”
“I couldn’t have you on my mind anymore if I tried. You consume nearly every waking thought I have, and most of the non-waking ones, too.” Plopping me down on the mattress, he crawled next to me.
“Please, Dantes? It would mean a lot to me.”
“I can never refuse when you ask so nicely,” he replied, reaching out and pulling me onto his chest. “There’s just one thing I need you to do for me first.
“Oh, and what’s that?” I asked, my head cocked to the side, mirth bubbling up inside. I already knew Dantes well enough to know what he wanted. He grinned at me as he rested his hand on top of my head, and applied gentle pressure until I slid down, a wicked smile hovering on my lips.
As I wandered through the high-end shopping center, I finally came to understand frustration went with the age-old question of what to buy for a man who already had everything. I traipsed in and out of stores, one after the other, always coming up empty-handed. At first, I thought a nice shirt or maybe even a sweater, but then laughed, trying to imagine Dantes in anything other than one of his bespoke suits.
I thought about a nice piece of jewelry, maybe a bracelet he could always wear, but again, but I imagined it would likely get hung up on the French cuffs of his dress shirts and be more of a nuisance than anything. I thought about new cufflinks since he always wore the same diamond and onyx pair, then assumed they held some special significance for him; otherwise, he’d have plenty of others to choose from. He certainly could afford them.
Undaunted, I wandered into a jewelry store, hoping to find some inspiration. A kind-looking gentleman approached me, ready to make a sale.
“Good afternoon,” he said with a gentle smile and a soothing voice that helped to calm my increasing frustration. “I’m Frederick. May I help you find something?”
“God, I hope so,” I replied, the desperation seeping in around the edges of my voice. “I’m trying to find a gift for my boyfriend, but I’m coming up short. I want it to be special, but we haven’t been together very long, so I don’t want to go overboard. You know what I mean?”
“Absolutely. A ring might be skating that line, then,” he replied thoughtfully. “Though there’s always a signet ring to consider.”
“Hmm. Maybe. Any other ideas? I already thought of and decided against cufflinks or a bracelet.”
“I should probably learn more about him before making any serious recommendations. What sort of man is he?”
“Conventional yet unconventional. He’s an enigma,” I replied with a chuckle. “He’s a business owner, a night club. He’s always in a suit, but he doesn’t sit behind a desk all day.”
“A watch, perhaps? Always a good choice for the man on the go,” Frederick offered.
“Let’s have a look at some,” I replied as he led the way to a brightly lit display case. Taking two trays holding gleaming timepieces, he laid them before me for my inspection. I was instantly overwhelmed. Each was beautiful, ranging from the sleekest, minimalist design to clunky, thick-linked wristbands that looked like they would weigh down even the brawniest man’s arm. I nibbled on my lower lip as I considered each one until something in the adjacent case caught my eye.
“Do you think I could look at some of the fountain pens over there?” I asked, liking the idea even more as I considered it. It was a classy gift, a statement acknowledging he preferred the finer things in life, without getting too personal.
Frederick and I moved to the case in question, where he pulled up several slender boxes. These couldn’t even be described as mere pens, but truly writing instruments—gorgeous, glistening gold and silver pens, gleaming tortoiseshell, blue lacquer. It was hard to know which would be best until my eyes fell on a smooth, simple, titanium pen. It looked like it would suit Dantes to a T. It was unobtrusive and classic, yet something that would still catch the eye when used. I had to have it.
“This one,” I said, picking up the box. “This is perfect.”
“An excellent choice,” Frederick said with a nod. “Would you like to have it inscribed with something special?”
“I can do that?” I asked, delighted I might be able to add a small personal flare to the gift.
“Absolutely. It’ll only tak
e a day for our jeweler to do it. You can pick it up tomorrow evening.”
I didn’t know how I’d get Dantes to let me out of his sight for the second night in a row, but I’d figure something out. I was hardly a prisoner, after all. I filled out the slip Frederick gave me to indicate what I’d like engraved on the cap of the pen. I chose the day my life had changed completely—the date we met.
“How do you celebrate Christmas?” Dantes asked me, a few days later, while he was modeling for me as I worked on his painting.
“Same as everyone, I guess. I go to my parents’ house first thing Christmas morning with everyone’s gifts. We open presents, then have an enormous breakfast my mom makes. Pancakes, waffles, egg and bacon casserole—you name it, she’ll make it. Then we spend the whole day snacking until we have an enormous prime rib for dinner, and we all end up in a food coma,” I replied with a smile. It was gluttony at its worst, but I loved our tradition. “How about you?”
“Well, it’s just my father and me here in the States, now, but there’s another man who’s been like a father to me. Miguel. He’s the one who took me in after my mother died and my father was no use to anyone. I usually spend the day with him and his family. Venezuelan tradition involves lots of family, lots of food.”
“It sounds lovely,” I said, cleaning my brushes as I finished for the day.
“Would you like to come with me? We begin celebrating mid-month with church services every morning, but our main celebration is on Christmas Eve, so it shouldn’t interfere with your traditional plans. I know I’m late asking, with it being just two days away.”
“I’d love to go. I want to meet your family and friends. Will your father be there?”
“More than likely, he’ll be passed out in the corner somewhere. He drinks himself into a stupor every year. I don’t know why El—I mean Miguel—continues to invite him.”
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 121